The Doorstep

Pulling up to the house, my heart raced. I could feel that familiar tingle run up my spine, while my broken and battered tennis shoes carried me to her doorstep. I took a deep breath, the air was wet and cool, smelling strongly of pine. One hand grasped a plate of freshly baked cookies, while the other shakily reached for the doorbell. ‘Stop shaking’ I chided myself ‘it’s not like this is the first time you have done this.’ My finger pressed up against the button and a small chime rang out, echoing through the tiny cove, and slightly calming my nerves. My heart jumped as the doorknob clicked and her shining face greeted me, her flowing brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was wearing an old t-shirt whose logo had faded from the many times it had been washed. Her eyes lightened when she recognized me, and beckoning with one hand she asked me to enter. As I did I slightly bowed my head, more out of habit, but slightly out of respect. “What are you doing here, not that I don’t want you here, it’s just kinda strange that you showed up…” she trailed off when she looked up into my famous half smile. Raising my hands I simply said “Cookie?” Lifting them from my hands, she set them on her table. Then, rising on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her and there we stood for what felt like eternity. Without warning her father walked thought the doorway that lead to the hall (where I suspect he had been hiding) and cleared his thought. Out of instinct we pulled away and stood stock still as if to not draw attention to ourselves. He passed through to the kitchen and then out of site, my eyes following him leave before making a move. Turning back to me she spoke formally but with a mischievous grin on her face. “I have to go, my family is waiting for me.” “Well, see you later” I spoke with the same formality, but still had to smile. Opening the door I stepped outside, she followed suite and we had a quick hug before I left for my car. As soon as I heard the door shut behind me I could not help but skip down the road, clicking my heals once or twice. 

The Bench

We sat on a bench that we found in the desert, its old paint peeling, watching the cloud move past. A slight breeze drifted past, bringing with it the smell of the dusty planes. The powdery clouds drifted past lazily, forming themselves into shapes that can’t be recognized. “What does that one look like?” she said turning her face to look at me, her eyes twinkling. “A cloud” I said looking down at her and smiling mischievously. “Come on,” she said punching me in the arm “you’re not even trying.” “I am too. Do you even know what a cloud is supposed to look like?” “No” she answered eager to debate “Well I do. So there” For good measure I stuck out my tongue.  She followed suit, and before long we were laughing and giggling like school children. As I stood to escort her back to the car my foot caught on a root protruding from the dusty soil, I fell, face first into a bush. Still sitting on the old bench gales of laughter shook her body. I can still taste the small green leaves and embarrassment, while her tinkling laughter still rings in my ears. When we got to the car I opened the door right when a gust of wind blew down the road. Dust got everywhere, looking over her hair was full of it, each piece sparkling in the sun, gleaming like an ember. How did I ever get this lucky, she really is spectacular.

I speak for the people.

You look at me and you see a foolish boy, heir to nothing but a fellowship of failure. You see me as a trifle to be devoured with a single wave of your hand. Someone who will bow to your wishes and follow your every command simply because of the fear you seem to inflict on those you see as week and below you. But I say unto you sir, you do not know the amount of power that I hold. You could not even fathom the greatness that longs to be unleashed from within my being. Come closer, I wish to smell the burning of your flesh when I smother you with the words from my tongue. You insolent pig, without those you rule over you are nothing. We hold your head high, but no longer. We shall rise to up and over throw you, laying your body in the ditches of poverty and sorrow. Can you not feel? Are you so far from this plain of existence that you have no recollection of what you have put into action? Or is it simply that your cruel heart beats like a great clock, mechanical and lifeless, never once feeling pain. Nevermore I cry, your reign of terror is ended and those you thought were friend shall turn on you. You shall be left for the dogs. Find me if you can, I am but a ghost, hiding in the shadows. Waiting for the time when I can strike, and strike I will. I speak for the people, and the people have spoken.

Happy Father's Day

Walking into the room, I could hear the faint snores of my father still sleeping in his bed. I tiptoed across the floor, doing my best to make as little noise as possible, until I reached the center of the bed. Looking up I could see the top looming far over my five year old head and looking as an impossible a climb as Mount Everest.  I looked over at my older brother crouching in the hallway egging me on to do his bidding. Reaching my small hand up toward the blanket that conveniently hung down, while grasping the miniaturized air horn in the other, I struggled and pulled my way to the top of the bed. Then, stopping for breath, I slowly inched my way toward my unsuspecting parents. Suddenly the bed began to move as my mother awoke and turned to find me pointing the air horn at my father like a five year old hit man ready to dispatch his mark. By the time she realized what I was doing it was too late. I pushed the button and the air horn produced an obnoxious honk akin to the awakening of the kraken. My father sprang from the bed like a rocket, and then proceeded to very clumsily plant his glasses on his nose before turning to look at me like a wild man who just found his next meal. Happy Father’s Day I squeaked between gales of laughter, while my brother was laying on the ground in the hallway, tears streaming down his face, laughing his face off. Even my mother was doing everything she could not to chuckle looking at my father with slight pity in her eyes. “Happy Father’s” day I said again when I could again speak without laughing. He looked down at me with a serious look on his thin face and then bust up laughing. Which caused everyone else to begin to laugh again, and we laughed and laughed until our sides where sore.  

The Clock Tower

It wasn't illegal, well not exactly anyways. It was an open campus, it’s not like we broke into any buildings. Just the clock tower.  It was beautiful up there, we could see for miles. Looking up we the skies were so clear that we could count the stars. The cold hard brick sat beneath us as we stared up into the abyss, looking at her I saw her eyes sparkle in the starlight. She truly was beautiful. In every aspect of the word she exceeded in every single one. She looked at me, her hair gently falling across her shoulders. I panicked, turning my head I looked up toward the stars. Luckily a star shot across the night sky. “Look” I said pointing toward the heavens. “Yes, it is quite beautiful” she said looking down at her hands. Almost by instinct I reached up and turned her face toward mine “Not as beautiful as you” I could not hold it in any longer, I leaned in and brushed my lip on her soft cheek. Pulling back I looked directly into her auburn eyes that seem to dance in the starlight. This time I did not miss, her light pink lips were soft and warm. We separated and sat back on the brick wall behind us. And there we sat, enjoying each other’s company.

I'm Leaving

I stared blankly at the mountains, whose peaks were hidden from view by large puffy clouds, thinking about everything that was going on in my life. And everything that was about to happen. I breathed out a puff of air that seemed to hang in front of my face, like smoke from the fire inside me. Pulling the light jacket that I had on tighter around my body I shifted my weight to get a better seat on the hard, dry grass. I heard the crunch of leaves beneath delicate feet and the swish of a low hanging scarf. I looked back to see her standing there in all her splendor, a hand knit scarf wrapped around her neck and a matching beanie placed precariously on her head. I motioned with one hand for her to sit down beside me. Sauntering over, she whipped her brown hair to one side before sitting down beside me. I wrapped my jacket around us both and there we sat. The only sound was the leaves rustling in the light breeze running through the trees, or the faint calls of a robin. Suddenly she leaned forward and looked me directly in the eyes, her brown ones sparkling with withheld laughter. “What were you thinking about?” She asked a mischievous grin on her face. “I’m leaving” I spoke in a whisper, barley audible above the swish of branches. Her face fell, the truth dawning on her. “I’m leaving, and I am scared out of my wits.” I spoke again very softly. She looked down at her hands. “I know” she said looking up into my face, looking into her deep brown eyes I say tears welling up in them. Without hesitation I wrapped my arms around her and we sat there both crying into each other’s shoulders. 

The Knight in Dented Armor Gets A Letter

One day in the middle of spring, the Knight in Dented Armor got a letter from the king over all the land. He spoke of the grave tragedy that had befallen (love that word) the men at the front lines. He told the Knight in Dented Armor that he was needed but the battle was much more terrible then they first anticipated. The Knight wept for those who had fallen, but rejoiced that he was finally called to serve. He read and read the letter until his heart ached and at the bottom of it was written this simple message: 

Be ready by August 13th.

I Could Be an Alien

I very well, could be, a full blown alien. I can to this realization not by any means you might expect. There where no bright lights coming from my eyeballs, or that magically hover when I sleep. No, that is not how I came to this astonishing conclusion. I came to that conclusion when I walked into my room singing a random song that I had herd on the radio, when suddenly a weird metallic humming came from above my head. Like any normal person I found the exact same note had been singing before and sang it loud and clear several times just to make sure I wasn't loosing my mind. This singularity did not bring me to the conclusion of the fact I might be an alien. But the fact that no one in my house even asked what I was doing singing my brains out in my room for no apparent reason. Now let me let you in on a little secret. You have been reading this all wrong. You have reading this under the assumption that I was going to list the reasons that I am a extra terrestrial being, but, what I am doing is explaining to you how I am HAPPY. Something that not many people have in life. "I could be an alien, very easily in fact. And no one would even notice." I have been myself for so long that the people I'm around simply except me for who I am. They don't question what I do. I could be an alien collecting data to take over this planet and I still would have been excepted and loved by my family and friends. That is true happiness, true freedom, to be comfortable in your own skin and have people in your life that will still love and support you. Try it sometime.

Crash

Leaves brushed past the now still car, steaming from the sudden stop. A fire hydrant now lay a few feet from the mutilated car, where it once stood bursting forth with water, creating the rather peaceful rhythm on the top of the car that awoke me from my crash induced rest. I looked out of the now cracked windshield at the large stream spewing forth from the ground. I shoved open the car door and slunk out of my smashed car, looking back at the wreckage with an awe inspired by the fact that I was fine. Not even a scratch. I made sure I in fact was whole by looking down at myself with the same awe I paid my, now much smaller, car. All eight limbs were intact. I looked up just to make sure both of my nubs where still as nubby as before. Even though I couldn’t see them it felt right. Reaching up I ran my hand though my hair, slicking it back. But just as always it sprang back into its normal unruly fashion. The sound of sirens sounded in the distance, breaking me from my revelry. I turned toward the noise, fixing my tie and straitening my slightly disheveled sweater. Squinting at the noise I remembered I need my glasses, rushing back to the poor excuse for a car I sifted through the wreckage, luckily finding my glasses among sitting next to the accelerator, perfectly unharmed. Placing my glasses on the end of my nose I turned to face a very gruff looking Quigle. He sneered at me making me back up slightly. “This your car?” he questioned with a voice that made me shiver. “No, i-i-it’s a company c-c-car” I squeaked out. He looked at me, and then the car. “You’re going to have to come with me” he gruffled turning to get back into his car that was hovering just behind him. “What have I done” I said, speaking with a boldness that surprised even me. He turned looking at me with a stare that would have scared a grown arctic karflump. I straitened to my full height, which was only about three inches taller than the cop, straitened my sweater and looked him straight in the eyes, putting on my sternest look. I was a college professor after all, and I had every right to know what I had done. “Nothing,” he spoke without blinking “I just need your statement.” He turned to his car and this time I did not question him, following him with foreboding, but compliance.

The cop unlocked the doors and I opened the passenger side out of instinct. “Nu-uh, you ride in the back” he said pointing to the wire mesh that covered the back windows. As I opened the back door a smell wafted over me that made me want to vomit. Looking at the seat was like looking at the insides of a flubit. And I should know what the inside of a flubit looks like. I am a college professor after all. I slid in doing my best not to sit on the most disgusting part of the seat. “Hope you don’t get car sick” the cop said chucking. He started the engine and we were off. I would describe the trip, but I don’t remember much. I might have blacked out a couple times because of the smell and the constant zigging and zagging of the car. My only comfort was that I would get this all straightened out soon. But soon didn’t come soon enough.

When we reached the police station, I spilled out of the back seat, gasping for air like a person that had spent some time without it, which wasn’t too far from the truth. The building loomed above me like some beast waiting to be fed. The cop grabbed my arm and practically dragged me inside the ominous building. When I got inside it was all paper work, sign here, date this, thumb prints and even a CAT scan. I was jostled this way and that, asked every question known to quig and then some. I answered what I could but most of it simply went over my head. Finally they placed me a room with nothing more than a chair and table. The table was covered in locks and restraints. I sat down and a cop with a big mustache entered, he held a donut in one hand while the other wrote on a clipboard. “Name” he spoke in a board voice that sounded like gravel in a blender. “Name” he repeated looking exasperated. “Charles, Ch-ch-charles Windworth” I said, my voice shaking from the ordeal I just went through.  “Occupation” “I’m a professor over at Borth University” “Age” “102” “a little young to be a professor” he said condescendingly, as if I had no place in the education business “Quick study” I  retorted. “What happened at 12:20 this afternoon” “I got in a car accident, I was driving along when a blofich jumped from a tree and smashed into my car, I veered off the road and ran into that fire hydrant. Can I go home now?” “Not yet,” the cop pushed me back into my seat “What was a blofich doing in a tree?” “I don’t know, I’m not a biologist” I said shrugging my shoulders. “Fine,” the mustached man spoke angrily, “We’ll have a police car waiting for you around the front. It will take you back to your house.” We shook hands and I walked out of the police department, still dazed from what I just went through.

When I got home, I opened the door with a creak that came from the many years I had lived in it. My poggle run up to me with a bone clutched in his powerful jaws, his antennae wobbled back and forth as he waddled toward me. I bent down and touched his small body, his ruff fur felt magnificent against my tired hands as I petted him. I grabbed one end of the bone and tussled with him for a while until we both got tired. When I sat down on the couch he bounded onto my lap, got comfortable, then fell fast asleep while I slowly stroked his hairy back. “Today was an interesting day, I tell you” I said leaning into the couch. “I’ll defiantly have to tell this to my class tomorrow.” I yawed and then fell into a deep sleep filled with flying blofich, and spraying fire hydrants.

The Sunset

The sunset painted the sky a brilliant peach, mixed with several shades of a deep purple that accentuated the clouds the made an almost perfect setting. The bed of the old truck creaked under the weight we put on it as we crawled up to sit on the tail swinging our legs like school children on the edge of a bridge. I turned my head to look at her, getting a mouthful of hair from the light breeze drifting off the pines, bringing with it the scent of rain. After sputtering for a small time I finally saw her beautiful face lit up by the setting sun. I looked at her bashfully, embarrassed by the fool that I had just made of myself. She laughed sending a tingle down my spine, while putting me at ease. She was beautiful, but unfortunately I would be gone in a few weeks, leaving family, and more importantly her. I wouldn't be back for two long years. She scooted closer and put her head on my shoulder. I just gaped at her, unable to comprehend what just happened. Coming to my senses, I put my arm around her holding her close. And that is how we stayed, watching the beautiful sunset, and enjoying each other’s company. 

Love at its Finest

She turned her head to see me standing there. She smiled, sending a sharp tingling up my spine, her perfectly white teeth gleaming in the summer sun. I had never truly realized how beautiful she was. Her light brown hair flowing like a soft waterfall cascading over her shoulders, while her eyes twinkled,  giving just a glimpse of her beautiful spirit. But, there was also a fire in her eyes that couldn’t be put out. Not by a hundred buckets of sparkling water. I loved this magnificent woman standing before me and I don’t care who knows it, everything she dose leaves me in awe, completely mesmerized by her beauty. She obviously noticed my staring “What’s up” she repeated for probably the fifth time. She laughed, the sound was like music to my ears, I could listen to that all day. I blinked once to try and clear my head, it didn’t work. “Oh” I said, my mind racing “I just wanted to ask you about the math homework” after the words left my mouth I realized how stupid they sounded.  “Homework?” she questioned, giving me a quizative look “We art even in the same class, are you feeling ok”…

The Mirror

I saw him standing there, in a doorway covered in glass. Staring at me as if daring me to join him in that retched room he stood in. We stared into each other’s eyes, neither one of us willing to give up the high ground.  I slowly and deliberately lifted my hand to grab his scrawny neck, his hand rose to stop mine. I stared at him with contempt. He stared back with the same resentment. We hated each other, he was everything I hated about myself. Every time I looked into his eyes I found a tortured soul that I had created. Everything I had ever done wrong was clearly reflected when I looked into those blue eyes. My pain was etched on his face. I despised that man, how have I become so cruel, so heartless? What have I done to deserve this? I sunk to the ground in despair, my tormentor followed, as if mocking me. Feeling helpless I pleaded with him to help me, he simply laughed at my tears. I cried out to my God for guidance, but no answer came. There I wept on the cold hard floor unable to look myself in the eye.

I awoke with a jolt, my face plastered up against the glass doorway. I jumped as I saw him staring back at me, my tormentor. We stared at each other for what felt like a million years, yet only lasted a few seconds. Then voice came to my mind. Like nothing I have ever felt before, the voice brought with it a calm like I have never experienced. “Forgive him” the voice whispered. I was shocked, how could I forgive such a terrible person, a person who has done so much evil in his life. “Forgive him” the voice whispered again, cutting me to my very soul. I stared at the reached man before me, and thought of everything I have done. All the wrong I have rot in this world. But as I stared into his eyes I remembered everything good I had done, not only that but what I had already suffered, and that I was forgiven of those things I had done wrong. The only person I needed to forgive now was the boy sitting in front of my, tears streaming down his face. “I forgive you.” I whispered, my voice cracking from the great emotion welling up inside me, an emotion that I had not felt in a very long time. Joy, it sprang from the depths of my soul and filled me until I was brimming with it. I jumped off the floor and turned to face the beaming face of the young man that was in front of me. I looked into his eyes and saw there the great joy that filled me. No longer did I see the great sorrow that had enveloped me, all I could see was forgiveness. I stood before myself a new man.

The Definition of Beauty

Dear Friends,
Let me explain something to you all, because it seems that this world just needs someone to say it. The word "ugly" is a lie. It is a vicious lie that is made up by people that don't think much of themselves. There is no such thing a ugly or worthless. This may fall on deaf ears but I personally have never seen an ugly person. I have however seen people that are cruel and mean and feel that the only way to make themselves feel good is by hurting others. If there ever was a definition of ugly that would be it. I am not saying I'm perfect, but what I am saying is that there is no "ugly". No matter what the media says you should look like they are wrong, you are who you are and don't you dare change that. Please, I am begging you, never say to yourself that you do not matter because you are not as pretty as the next girl because that is a lie. Beauty is based solely on how we treat others, how we act, not if we have "the look". That is not what matters.
Sincerely, 
Someone Who Cares