Friday, September 14, 2012
A pale evening glimmer falls in shades of pink and orange as I lie agonizing. It is beautiful; an Aurora Borealis to contrast the slow bleed of my emotions. Pain like this is only earned, never truly inflicted. It is a soul-ache caused by some deep failure to nurture oneself. It shows a sickness of the heart that can only be cured with a revelatory love, the kind that scandals are made of. There is no rock or hard place, only decisions, and all this slow demise will seem a sad and ignorant episode in just a few turns. Or so I can hope. Or maybe I can just decide?
God help me: I need light, and I need to be touched by a soft and gentle and adoring hand. Then there will be love. And peace.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
There was no other way, the doctor said, that head just had to come off. After looking at the evidence, I couldn't disagree. My behaviour had become erratic, it was true, and some of my actions were simply inexcusable. When pressed, I admitted that yes, I'd been at my shenanigans longer than had been made public, and also that I'd promised to change before, but failed to make such changes permanent.
She shook her head as she repeated the diagnostics, and we both became sad, but I couldn't disagree with her. This really did seem the only cure for my condition. Slowly, I stepped upon the platform and knelt into the apparatus, my neck feeling oddly comfortable in the tight slot. I heard the doctor's command through the black hood, and as the blade fell, I felt a sensation that could only be the sweet redemption everyone had been talking about. The release was marvelous, and my last action was to smile in relief.
I can only hope my face still bore that smile when my wife was given my head in the ceremonial basket later that day. Maybe, just maybe, she'd forgive me now, for I'd taken the only steps that would absolutely, without any doubt, guarantee I'd never be able to hurt her again.
Finally, she could be happy.
Friday, September 7, 2012
* * * * *
FFF-55 Vol. XLIV. Tell a story in exactly 55 words. Go see G-Man.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Water breaks on rocks
And fills a pool
To flow beneath pine boughs and branches
And alongside a gypsum path
To end in the ever-flowing Rouge.
I sit on a bench of stone
Hewn as if for a temple garden
Meant for the worshipers of Athena.
For all I know, this stone slab is just that ancient
And may once have been hauled from a quarry
On the backs of conquered slaves.
Beneath my feet, a path
On which have walked many great minds.
I am surrounded by architecture and forest,
An amalgam of beauty which has inspired
Wonder and beauty
And which now serves as a hearty reminder that I
Like a conquered slave
Am in the daily practice
Of carrying on my back stones cut from quarry
To be hewn into wondrous and beautiful wealth
For my Masters.
And like falling water,
I let my dreams flow away,
And take comfort in their passage
Beneath pine boughs and branches
And beside gypsum paths
On which walk the young and passionate
Who, perhaps, take some inspiration
From the sound of my own youth
As it breaks on the rocks behind them.