Slides and Screen Doors

At the very beginning of the night, I fell through the screen door. Just, like, fwish. That was the kind of sound it made. And then there was the loud thud or whatever as my drunk ass hit the ground, but that’s not the important part.

At the start of tonight, I fell through a screen door.

Wait.

Crap.

That’s not right.

It’s not right.

That happened after.

Way after.

Because I still had my hat on, but I hadn’t busted my knee hopping into the slide.

Not yet.

…not yet.

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Devil’s Smile

Everyone likes to think evil comes, unannounced, with a voice rising like the darkest pit of hell. That it shows up in black cars with flaming wheels and license plate numbers marked “666”.

But that’s not the case.

In fact.

Usually, it’s the opposite.

Evil doesn’t show up with horns and a tail.

Evil usually shows up with a smile.

And damn.

If you didn’t look like a devil to me.

Crashing Into Stars

High velocity is something to be taken seriously.

Very seriously.

If you’re going at high speeds, there are a lot of things to keep track of. Not that there isn’t normally. It’s just that, at such high speeds, it’s a million times more important. Because if you hit a sign going five miles per hour, it doesn’t do much, does it?

Now, going over seven hundred miles per hour?

Much different.

I hear your vessel gets splintered. Smashed to smithereens. Decimated.

It’s almost like you never existed at all.

It’s a pretty scary thing, knowing that while speeding through space.

You need to have good control, or you’ll crash and burn.

Being a fighter pilot in outer space, high speed was kind of my thing.

Except today.

For some reason, today was an off day.

Completely off.

Moonsong

There is a sound that loss makes.

A sound that echoes.

It isn’t loud. Not at first. It rings quite gently, at first. You hear it loom over you, and then it repeats.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

And then, when it stops, you’re left with the sound. A hollow ringing. A broken sound. A sound of once-was.

Nothing.

That is the sound that loss makes.

Silence.

Thick, heavy. A blanket that covers. A fog that consumes. A mist that conceals. One minute, you’re walking around, and then next, you’re not. You can’t. There’s nothing there to see anymore. Nowhere to go. How can you move forward if there’s nothing to move forward to?

That is the sound of loss.

And I know it well.

Which is why I know that the sound I hear now isn’t the same. It doesn’t equate to loss.

You’re still out there.

You’ll come back.

I know you will.

That’s why you sing.

BOOK UPDATE–again :)

Hey everyone! It’s been a while since I did a book update. So here it goes:

I’ve got exactly 347 reading behaviors right now, and four very nice reviews. Currently, the book has five stars (which makes me happy to no end).

And that is suuuuuuper exciting. For me, that’s a ton of reads. Usually when I write something, I’ll have my older brother read it, but that’s about it. Partially because I’m a bit shy with my writing, but mostly because I didn’t know how to get my writing out there before. And, I’m still learning in that area, but apparently I’m not doing too bad.

That said, in order to get published I need 1200 reading behaviors. Which is still a long ways away, but a lot closer than I ever imagined it could be. Which means: there is hope!!!!

If you’re new or haven’t heard or if you don’t mind sharing: I wrote a book and the link to my inkitt profile is here 

So far, there’s just the one book. I’ve got two other book ideas in the works though. But for now, it’s just Into the Wilderness.

And the synopsis I give out is generally something like:

It’s a story about survival, moon-fearing werewolves, and a school system that’ll eat you alive.

Something like that.

The book is a bit horrifying in some places, I’ll admit that. Notably, the werewolf transformation sequence comes to mind. I don’t generally like when books are like “werewolves don’t change on full moons, score!” or “changing doesn’t hurt the werewolves at all lol” because that kind of defeats the purpose of werewolves. I’ll admit that, in the story world I made, the werewolves’ change doesn’t hurt, but only when it isn’t the full moon. Full moon changes are involuntary and unavoidable and excruciatingly painful for the werewolves.

Also, the vampires don’t burst into flames when they come into contact with the sun, but they don’t sparkle either. The sun just gives them a good sunburn.

And still: they drink blood. Though that has yet to be seen.

So, if any of that interests you, or might interest someone you know, please share it with them. It’s free to read, so they won’t be wasting their money if they end up not liking it.

Thanks everyone for your support. I truly, sincerely, absolutely appreciate it. This has honestly been a wonderful experience, and I’m glad I can share my writing with people who enjoy it just as much as I enjoy doing it.

Thank you! 🙂

Break Through

There’s something satisfying about smashing things. About watching them break and crumble. About watching them shatter, or crack. It was just… satisfying. To see that something out there was a million times for fragile than you could ever be. To be able to break something without hurting someone. It was refreshing.

It was a nice way to let go of some anger.

That’s for damn sure.

I haphazardly tossed another plate up, into the air above me. High enough to give myself time.

Time to ready the bat.

And time to swing.

When the bat connected, there was a satisfying chink and clatter as the plate was decimated. Undone. Guts made of glass exploded outward, scattering over the dirt.

I took a steady breath, exhaling and grinning.

Then I picked up another plate.

Lion Man–Part 2

A continuation of yesterday’s story. You can probably pick it up here if you’d like, but yesterday’s will give you a good amount of context first.

On the fourth day that the lion man, Tau, was at my farm, it finally happened.

The weather set in.

When I woke, I was not greeted by sunlight. By rays of a morning in the full throes of its glory, but instead, by darkness.

Thunder.

Bolts of light flashing, signifying the lightning.

The storm had finally come.

3 Days, 3 Quotes Challenge–Day 3

I’M HERE!!! I DID IT!!! Which means that sadly…

It’s over.

This was a lot of fun.

Three days ago, the britchy one (whose stories I love, btw) asked me to do this challenge and it has been SO COOL, and TONS of fun. I don’t share what I like/love too often on my blog (not in a direct way, anyhow) and this is one of those chances for me to do that.

Which is why today is sad.

Because it’s the last day.

BUT.

I, of course, am ending with a quote on wolves.

I’m going to go ahead with the one in the picture, the one about the two wolves, but I did consider doing this other wolf quote by Hugh Macleod. (You know, “The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care.” That one? Yeah.) But I went with the one pictured above instead.

It’s not really a quote, more like a proverb. But still.

I love it.

Firstly because it implies that there is ferocity inside all of us, and I truly believe that there is. Even in the most timid of people, there is a wolf. It simply doesn’t come out unless there’s a full moon. At least, for that timid person.

There are others whose wolves take up a great portion of their lives, or their personalities. Who let our ferocity out.

I think I’m one of those people.

And I don’t think ferocity is a bad thing.

Loving fiercely, being fiercely kind, or fiercely loyal.

I think those are things this world is lacking of lately, and it’s a real bummer. If people were more fierce in the gentle things, the world would be a better place.

Anyhow, I digress.

About the quote:

I think the dark wolf is the lone-wolf aspect of life. The comfortable path that’s easy to take. That wolf takes hardly any feeding. It’s fine subsisting on scraps, on moldy foods, on complete garbage. It can not only live off that stuff, but it can thrive.

That wolf is the easy path.

The path of anger.

Or fear.

Of, essentially, selfishness.

That wolf is easiest to feed. And easiest to give to. It’s comfortable. It’s seems smart. Why have to feed a beast with standards, right? If you’ve got to choose between a dog that will only eat fillet mignon, and a dog that will eat anything, why choose the one with expensive taste, right? Seems like a bad choice to me.

But, what people don’t realize, is that it eats a lot more than the other wolf. That, for the dark wolf, a feeding a day isn’t enough.

It wants to eat everything.

It will eat everything.

Eventually, it’ll even eat you.

It’s easy to feed, sure, but not when it starts getting hungry.

That wolf will consume you.

And others will start to notice before you do, I guarantee that they will.

Which is why it’s the path of the longe wolf.

And that wolf, the dark wolf, is constantly fighting a battle against the other wolf.

The lighter wolf.

The good wolf.

That good wolf is peaceful. That wolf is kind. That wolf brings light to situations that seem dark. That is the self-less wolf. The wolf that thrives in a pack, that can love and be loved. That wolf doesn’t need a dark night to come out and play. It doesn’t eat garbage, and for good reason.

That wolf has standards.

Because it stands for something important.

And that wolf stands for you.

That wolf will be hungry—it will always be hungry—but not in the same way the dark wolf is hungry.

That wolf won’t consume you.

It won’t swallow you whole.

It won’t bite the hand that feeds.

That wold wants good food because it can turn good food into good energy.

It wants good things for you

Which is why it’s always fighting the dark wolf.

Always.

Now, I’m not a science person, but I’m a big believer in Newton’s Third Law:

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

I believe that applies to everything. Including what we do.

For every good thing we do, there is a bit of light put out into the universe.

For every purely-selfish thing we do, there is a bit of darkness.

And whatever we do, whatever we put out, will come back to us.

So, do yourself a favor:

Feed the good wolf.

Think positive things.

About yourself, most importantly. Because when you think good things about yourself, when you’re considerate of how you feel, being considerate of others will come naturally. When you consider all that you’ve been through, all the things you hide from the world, you’ll recognize that in others too. You’ll be more kind to them, because you’ll be sensitive to the fact that their wolves are fighting too.

But, when you’re feeding things like anger and fear and doubt into yourself, your nature becomes selfish.

You stop being considerate of others.

How you treat yourself is how you will treat others.

That’s why the most insecure people are the harshest. Are the meanest.

They don’t feed the good wolf.

At least, that’s always been my experience.

Anyhow, that’s my take on the quote and why I love it so much. The views I presented run a bit deeper and have a lot more logic and experience attached to them than what I’ve led on, but thats the basics of it.

Man, that was a doozie.

Thanks for reading it through though!

And, again, this challenge has been loads of fun!!!!

Thank britchy 🙂

And here are my nominees:

1. bear’s photo’s I just recently started following him, and I love his photos. They’re very calming to look at for some reason.
2. boundless blessings by Kamal is one I just started following. A lot of good-advice posts, a lot of positive energy going on over there. I really dig it.
3. fictionspawn monsters does some pretty neat short stories. I’ve been a follower for awhile. Good stuff.

So, the rules are simple: one quote per day for three days. Nominate three people per day. Mention the person who tagged you to complete le challenge.

If you guys don’t want to or can’t participate, I understand. However, I thought it’d be cool to see what you guys would pick and choose. And I, personally, really love these things (I think they’re lots of fun) so I figured you guys might want to try it too.

Thanks everyone!

 

Lion Man–Part 1

When the door opened, I was surprised. Not because there was company, though that was quite a shock. What with living this far out of town, I never received guests.

There are other reasons—reasons that revolved around my father’s decisions more so than my own—but that’s the one I use to calm myself when I’m alone at night.

Anyhow, I heard the knock, opened the door, and was surprised.

Before me stood a man.

A giant man.

A man wrapped with so much muscle someone might claim him a god. The scars that adorned his muscle would’ve certainly backed that up.

His skin seemed to hold evidence that the muscle was not all talk. That it was backed by fist, and strength, and blood. But that wasn’t even the most surprising thing about him. About this giant, strong man, showing up at my door in the middle of the country side right at dusk.

It was the lion’s skin.

He wore what was, unmistakably, garb made from lion’s skins.

And when he saw me, this giant beast of a man, he bowed a bit. Before I could react, he spoke.

A strange accent coated his words, coaxed them out with a lilt.

He said, “Ma’am, I am a traveler. I am new to this part of the country, and I have no family or friends to speak of. I am knocking on your door because I am in desperate need of a place to stay before the weather sets in. If you wouldn’t mind.”

I stared at him a moment more.

Stared at his empty hands. His scars. His bulk and height. His clothes made from the king of beasts. From the lord of the jungle.

He was strange, for sure, but…

“If you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to work for it.”

When he came out of his bow, he looked solemn. He nodded.

“Aye. I can do that.”

Questions Breathed

“What in the hell was that?”

The question is shouted after two breaths. Precisely two. One breath to remind him of where he now is, and one breath to remind him of where he once was. To remind him that he had just been shot out of a wormhole, or vacuum, or whatever else you’d like to call it. To remind him that this place is far from the last, and the last is far from the first. And all things considered above are far from the finish.

What I mean to say is that two breaths was all it took for him to realize:

He has no idea what is going on.

And, to me, someone who was born to guide, it seems inconceivable. Inconceivable, not because I, myself, always know things or always know where I am or what is going on and why.

But inconceivable in how extremely, profoundly, earth-shatteringly relatable the question was.

What a good question.

So, as response, I did what any of us would do.

I laughed.