Memory is such a fickle thing.
Such a loose term.
I could remember something one way, and you could remember it an entirely other way. And both ways could be right, just because we perceived that event differently. You saw it from one angle, and I saw it from another, and those views could seemingly contradict. Yet, both views can be right.
You know, I heard somewhere that every time you recall a memory, it becomes less true. Loses some of its virtue. It becomes less and less what actually happened, and becomes more and more of what you think happened.
But who knows if that’s true. Like I said, I just heard it somewhere. Could be total hogwash.
Because you’re right. I do know you. You were there. You were so important to me.
I just didn’t remember. Continue reading “A Memory Echoes”
An envelope flies from the doorway and hits me in the head.
“What…?” I begin to ask, but it’s obvious.
The envelope has my name on it. When I look inside, there’s a small stack of bills for me. Payment from my brother.
“You sure got that done fast,” I say sarcastically.
He snorts. “Next time, I’ll pay Josie to wash the car. She doesn’t bug me half as bad as you about getting paid,” he says and then closes the door.
For someone who’s so adamant about procrastinating, my brother is actually really reliable. And incredibly capable. Anytime I need anything, I ask him. Sure, I have to bug him to death to get him to move, but once he gets moving?
That’s why, when I needed Richie Burt to die, I asked my brother for help. Continue reading “Fair Exchange”
I’ve always thought that tombstones shouldn’t give out quick blurbs about who loved us, or why. I’ve always thought it would be better to talk about how we lived, or how we died.
That way, when I die from wrestling six bears while sky diving, my epitaph can kick ass.
Just keeping it real. Dying like I lived. Right? I want people to know the kind of crazy I was, that I intend to leave that sort of legacy behind me. That when the dust settles and I’m gone, just part of the cloud of dirt matter, they’ll know.
I wasn’t afraid to live.
And I sure as hell wasn’t afraid to die.
Because that’s the kind of attitude you have to have in order to save lives. In order to make a difference. In order to be remembered.
In order to have a legacy.
God, I hope I’ve made a legacy.
Continue reading “Dead Legacy”
“You can tell me the truth, you know,” I say, my voice steady as always. “We both know what the truth is anyway.”
Your hands start to shake. You plunge them back into the sink water, hoping to hide your tremors in the bubbles.
But I know.
I always know when something is up with you.
“You know, even if you don’t tell me, it’ll come out eventually,” I say quietly.
You stop moving, and that’s how I know.
I’m right. Continue reading “An Honest Farewell”
I can’t really describe to you what it’s like, but I’ll try:
Nerve-wracking. That’s number one, for sure. I’m so nervous that I’m shaking, all the way up the mountain. And then…hmm… I guess I’d have to say that it’s a bit scary? Not that I’m really all that afraid, I’m just a little afraid. And then I’d have to say that there’s this huge sense of duty, of responsibility. With that comes the sense that I’m doing something good, you know? That this is definitely the right thing. Maybe. I don’t actually know. If it keeps the village safe, then I guess it was the right thing to do.
I guess I’ll have died for nothing. But hopefully not.
After all, that’s the point of sacrifice, isn’t it? Continue reading “A Simple Sacrifice”
Every night, it’s the same thing. The same exact dream. It was the dream I woke up from this morning, and the dream that I’ll have the second I close my eyes tonight.
For years, I’ve had it. And I still have no idea what it’s about. What I’m supposed to do with it.
You’d think that if you were having a prophetic dream, it’d come true relatively soon afterward, right? That’s why Dr. Turner doesn’t think that it’s a prophetic dream. Well, that and, he doesn’t really believe in God. So that’s probably a reason. But he does have a different reason, a different explanation.
Dr. Turner thinks it’s psychological. That my inner self isn’t at peace with something. That I’m stealing away my own security. That there is no wolf. That there is no hunter. There’s just me, in my head, worrying myself in circles.
But I don’t think so, because I’ve seen him before. Just a quick glimpse as I was in the grocery store one day. It sounds crazy, but I really did see him.
The wolf. Continue reading “A Dream to Leave Behind”
Larger than life.
That’s what they always called me. Even in elementary school. How such young kids knew such an obscure term is still beyond me, but they did. And they called me that. And it seems to have stuck.
Larger than life.
What the hell was that even supposed to mean?
Just because I can turn into a hundred foot tall monster man… Continue reading “Pressures of Being Larger than Life”
Flashes of light and sound dancing across the sky.
That’s all we were.
All I was.
Not by choice, but by necessity. For some reason, I was the one. I don’t know why I was chosen. Whether it was because of my strength, or my courage, or whether it was simply because I was nearby, but nonetheless.
I was chosen.
An eternal fight. That’s what it was setup to be. What The Challenger thought it would be.
But no one bests a man named Ragnar.
No one. Continue reading “Plight of the Warrior”
Nobody ever talks about it. Not really.
Because it’s awkward.
Here we all are, looking for something. A thing that starts wars, sets fires, leads people to pure joy or absolute ruin. Something that is, on its own, pure and beautiful and can’t be compared to any other thing.
And yet, though we all look for it, we forget.
We are not deserving.
The difference between scoundrels and real thieves?
A scoundrel takes when he pleases. Thinks he is owed what he takes. That this world is supposed to open its jaws whenever he demands. That all things are meant to be his.
But a thief?
A thief owns nothing, and is owed nothing.
And he knows it.
Scoundrels have no heart, no soul, no morals. Thought it would seem to be the same for thieves, I’ll tell you:
Not for a real thief.
That’s why I was there that night.
And that’s why, when you looked at me, I ran.
In this world, I am owed nothing. I expect nothing. All I have are the things I take, things that don’t belong to me. In this world, I am nothing.
So stop looking at me. Continue reading “Thieves in the Night”
“Don’t step there.”
My foot stops midair and switches its landing point. “Okay. Can I ask why?”
“Because you’ll fall into the swamp.”
Something my guide said earlier comes to mind. “And… I’ll get eaten by leeches?”
Pleased that I guessed correctly, she smiles and says, “Exactly.”
As if traversing through a swamp to find my Lost One isn’t stressful enough, the swamp just happens to be full of poisonous creatures, ridiculous predators, and leeches.
Stepping in the wrong place can get me killed.
Awesome. Continue reading “A Tale from The Wilderness”