Which, in their book, translated to:
They were going to throw me out. As if I were trash.
As if I weren’t human.
They were going to throw me out because I’d somehow become “incomplete”.
That’s how they saw it.
But, luckily for me, they weren’t the only ones looking. Continue reading “Fixin’”
They thought they could change me. That immersing me in this… darkness… would help. That it would make things different. Fix me. Shatter the thing that claws. That bites. They thought they could break the beast within me by plunging me into memories. By trying to change what I know. Change my experience. Eliminate the past.
I told them this wouldn’t work.
I’m all for destroying the beast inside—believe me, I am—but…
I want to do it right. Correct. Vanquish the beast completely.
I know the beast within. I know it well.
After all—this beast within?
It’s just me.
And I knew:
This wouldn’t work. I told them very directly, very plainly.
This won’t work.
I wasn’t wrong. Continue reading “Beast Trigger”
It tasted like sanitizer. Like rubbing alcohol. Like pouring acid down my throat. A plastic bottle full of poison.
But I drank anyway.
Let the burn run through me as the haze settled in. As I started to sway, to fog up.
An impossible thing, forgetting.
But I’ll try anyway. Continue reading “Hyde Within”
“Okay, so, why does it have to be me?” I ask again into my phone.
The person on the other end sighs.
“Because we want you to kick the tires—so to speak. See if it’s worth the money. You’re the only one with enough knowledge to be able to tell if it’ll be worth anything or not. Besides, even if there were someone with enough know-how, I’d still trust your word over theirs any day.”
He’s buttering me up, trying to get me to agree.
After a momentary internal debate, I sigh.
“What’s the address?”
Continue reading “Kicking Tires”
Maps have always been used to find the way. To pluck out the wrong roads and toss them aside. To find the correct avenues. The roads that will take you somewhere you wish to go.
To take you places.
They’re strands. Tiny lines that intersect. Tiny lines with mysteries, marvels. That contain whole worlds without our notice. That lead to “x”s and treasures and gold.
Maps are so much more than they appear.
Why wouldn’t it be the same with our DNA? Continue reading “The Mystics of Maps”
“Why are we out here? Isn’t it extremely dangerous?”
“Yes. It is.”
I don’t know why I had expected some kind of urgent response. Something that made sense. Honestly, it was kind of stupid of me.
Because, really, when do I ever get that from Sal?
“Then why are we on the Stellaform?” I asked.
Of course, I shouldn’t have expected a direct answer. This is Sal, after all.
Instead of telling me, he grinned. A wicked, mischievous grin. The kind a fox wears when stealing cookies from crows.
“I’ll show you.” Continue reading “Stars of Something”
When you’re a kid, things seem to take forever. Time moves at a perpetually slow rate, always in last place during life’s race. It moves it’s legs slowly, leisurely. Like nothing will ever pick up. Like everything moves through tar, only able to move forward in painfully meticulous strides.
And then you graduate.
And everything speeds up.
Time moves in the exact opposite manner than it had before.
Instead of moving slowly enough for you to process, life moves so fast that you’ve barely grasped what’s happened in the current year when, suddenly, the next year rolls on through.
It’s like watching a top spin, round and round and round. Only, the top doesn’t stop. It never slows down again. You realize how quickly it actually moves, how little of it you have left.
It’s a little disparaging, knowing that your time is running out.
That’s what I think as I look down at the paper. At this last bit of hope.
The top is spinning. Continue reading “It Waits”
A present is a present is a present. The fact that someone is thinking of you enough to give you something should, in and of itself, give you something wonderful. That, in itself, should be enough.
Sometimes what you’re presented with isn’t enough. Continue reading “The Finest Present”
You know, I can’t remember what I put in this stupid box.
Not for the life of me.
I marked it “DON’T OPEN EVER, HOLY CRAP” but I have no idea what that means anymore. No clue what it is that’s inside the box. And, although it doesn’t bother me, I know it’ll bother Stenson. My assistant is too curious for his own good.
It’s probably best if I hide the box, right?
Right? Continue reading “Trust in a Box”
I get it. Why I’m so hated. If you didn’t hate me, I’d think you were nuts, to be honest.
Yeah, I am trash.
But I’m the biggest piece of trash on this planet.
So, it doesn’t really matter what you think.
You know? Continue reading “Wreckt”