Walk in the Dark

There was fire in the woods. A slow building plume of smoke rose, signaling that they were out there, somewhere.

Who?

Who was out there, you ask?

Nobody you’d want to find, that’s for sure. Continue reading “Walk in the Dark”

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Feeling Fall

Crunching red underfoot. Hanging orange from above. The wind whispers chills into my veins, raises goosebumps on my skin with it’s secrets. The trees are naked, bare. Revealing that even nature has its weaknesses. Even nature needs to rest.

I love the fall.

The way the wind rises, and the trees burn without ash, and the air tingles with the chill.

For a season of dying, it’s all very lively. Filled with light, and color. Brings you an aching sort of melancholy. One that ends with a hope, and a bitter cold twist.

An ache you don’t want to ignore. Continue reading “Feeling Fall”

When the Warlock Wakes

I knew a genius once. He was my mentor, actually. Taught me, first in high school. Then, once again, when I entered college. And then, again, when I went for my master’s degree. And my doctorate. And again, afterward.

When I became his assistant.

He taught me a lot. A whole awful lot. About tons of things. Theories and science and things you could see.

And things you couldn’t see.

The man I knew was a genius. An absolute genius. It wasn’t his mind that made him that way, or his IQ. No.

It was his determination. His willingness to explore. To find. Discover. He always saw himself as a pioneer. An explorer. Someone who wasn’t afraid of the turning seas. Of never reaching land again.

Because to him, it didn’t matter.

If he could find the unknown, delve into lands unseen…

If he got his answers, then it didn’t matter.

Nothing did.

I’ve only just recently come to that conclusion. That understanding. The man I knew was a genius, yes.

But at what cost? Continue reading “When the Warlock Wakes”

Strength of the Wolf

Power is not something earned, or something given.

It’s built.

Bricks stacked together, to build monuments. Dynamite stacked on dynamite, to blow through mountains. Metal bolted to metal, to make tanks.

Power is not in you. It’s something you build.

You can build power in anything, with anything. With anyone.

Power is a determination. A mindset.

Tell me:

What’s the difference between wolves and coyotes?

Not what you think it is, I bet.

I’ll tell you.

It’s not in the bite, or the bark, or the way they howl.

It’s in the way they walk. Continue reading “Strength of the Wolf”

Fitful Night

She sputters sometimes.

Wakes up in fits.

There are nights when there’s nothing I can do. There’s no warning. No sounds. It’s quiet. Peaceful for me.

And then, I realize:

It’s only peaceful for me. Continue reading “Fitful Night”

Whole Pieces

It was not a complete painting.

Everyone says that. Tells me that all the time. Nearly everyone who walks by the painting, tells me:

It’s missing a vital piece.

But, you know what?

You’re not the artist.

I am.

And that missing piece?

The one everyone so desperately wishes were still there?

It’s not what you think. Continue reading “Whole Pieces”

Wax Forest, The Fox, and Me

The door was closed.

The fox had the key.

A thief of nature. An ancient burglar. Quick-witted, swift. A natural in the forest.

The fox had the key.

In a forest filled with candles. Brightly lit against the dusk, the falling sky. They glowed gently, shimmered. Lit the fox’s eyes so I knew exactly what he was thinking.

It wasn’t good.

Continue reading “Wax Forest, The Fox, and Me”

A Day in the Park

It was not the day for this.

It was hot and muggy. I’ve never been broiled alive before, but, with the way the weather was, I thought I understood it well enough. It was like walking through a sauna, or standing outside the shower door as someone used up all the hot water.

It was humid.

It was hot.

And it was not the time to be hiding a stranger from a movie monster.

But.

Here I was anyway.

Getting close to a stranger.

…what a strange day.
Continue reading “A Day in the Park”

Magic Is Not “Mine”

There is a root to selfishness.

It’s a knowledge. A knowing. When you reach out and push away, or grab at, or break. Looking at something and thinking to yourself “I want that” or “I want that away from me” or “I want to destroy that” and for no other reason than simply because you want to. Selfishness is being fully in the know about what you’re doing. Yes, you might deny it to yourself, but you know.

You know.

That’s selfishness. True and unfiltered selfishness, cut down to its root.

Knowing what you’re doing is wrong, and doing it anyway.

Knowing that getting what you want will hurt someone, put them at a disadvantage.

Knowing.

And doing anyway.

That’s why I can’t forgive them. Ignorant as some may be, they’re not all that way.

Some of them know. Continue reading “Magic Is Not “Mine””

Real Monsters

I remember the first time I told my dad there was a monster under my bed.

I remember the way my voice was factual, honest. Clear. I cut all other words away, just left the root of what I wanted to say.

“There’s a monster under my bed.”

And I remember what he said. How it was a mirror of my own words. The way he cut out all nonsense. All description. All in favor of cutting to the root of what he wanted to say.

“There’s no such thing as monsters.”

My dad was a liar.

He still is.

Because everyone who’s got a brain knows:

Monsters are very real.

Very. Continue reading “Real Monsters”