A brief moment of life

Happiness. Contentment.
These are the things everyone strives for.
Silence, quiet, peace. Things necessary for relaxation.
I no longer bemoan being single.
I find it quite liberating. I go where I want, when I want. I do the things I want and say whatever I wish.
I love the peace and quiet of my home. It is so nice to be able to read without distractions.
Yes, my life is finally complete. All I ever needed was me.

Words come true

But in a twisted perverted way.
I'm the hermit on the mountain, trying to help someone. It's just a matter of time before that person beats me, robs me, and leaves me for dead.
And why does it happen? Because I'm a nice person.
Who dies today. I refuse to help another person out. I have to only look out for myself.

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Mr. Fix-It

People are stupid.
That was simply the conclusion he had come to over the number of years since he first realized that he had a super-power. It wasn't a cool super-power like Superman had. He couldn't fly, no x-ray vision, and he was fairly certain he would die if someone shot him with any sort of projectile weapon. He really wasn't interested in actually finding out either. That whole one life to live thing seemed to resonate throughout him.
Mr. Fix-It was the name he gave to himself. Nobody ever really seemed interested in giving him a SuperName. Instead, they just came to him with their problems. "Help me," they called out. "Save me," they pleaded. His good nature wouldn't let him ignore genuine calls for help. Sometimes he really wished he didn't have a damn conscious.
He really didn't mind listening to other people's problems and helping them reach the logical conclusions that they would have eventually worked out on their own. He didn't mind being quiet and letting people reach logical conclusions on their own. Quite the contrary, he enjoyed helping people seeing clearly, learning how to think, how to analyze the situations that they found themselves in. He got a warm feeling knowing he helped someone become a productive member of society.
What he didn't like was what typically happened. People would beg him to listen to their plights, beg him for his advice, and then turn around and do exactly what they were going to do anyway. It was as if they purposely went out of their ways to do the opposite of what he was guiding them towards. And when things didn't work out the way they wanted, it was always filled with shouts of disdain and admonishments of his inability to help them. It was a never-ending vicious cycle of hate and resentment. He hated and resented these people. And they still came back for more. More advice, more problems. It never ended.
Mr. Fix-It.
The most ironic thing to him was that his life was probably no better than half of these people. Worse more than likely. He lived alone, eschewing the company of others, paranoid to the point that he trusted no one. He never let anyone close for fear that they would hurt him. And on top of being a paranoid social pariah, he was in love with a woman he could never be with. He never understood why these people thought he could solve their problems.
That was until the day he met Otis. Otis was an old black man. He came across Otis one day at the park . Otis was just sitting on a bench watching the squirrels gather nuts, passing time away. Mr. Fix-It was tired, he had been walking for a while thinking on this problem, the dilemma that he was facing. Taking his leave, he rested his bones beside Otis.
For a while, they sat there in companionable silence, Otis watching the squirrels, and Mr. Fix-It lost in thought. Clearing his throat a little, Otis spoke, "You're Mr. Fix-It, aren't you?"
"Oh great," he thought, "Here it comes, another problem. Great." Mr. Fix-It nodded slowly, preparing himself to listen to the man's question.
Otis continued, "You listen to people's troubles, right?" Again, Mr. Fix-It nodded. "But now, you gotta problem." Mr. Fix-It frowned, unsure of what to do. Otis kept right on. "You're problem is you don't understand why peoples want to tell you all their cares and worries. Right?"
Mr. Fix-It just stared at Otis in surprise. He was flabbergasted that this random old man had seen right to the heart of the problem.
Otis took his silence as agreement, still watching the squirrels chasing each other around, and proceeded on with what he had to say. "The reason they tell you their problems is because you listen. Because you care. The whole world, it's messed up. But here you are, quiet, calm, a rock in the storm. The things that bother them, they's the same that bothers you. But for some reason you gotta better gripe on things. Don't beat yourself up over it. Things have a way of working themselves out."
And with that, and not another word, Otis nodded, and stood. Bowing his head slightly, Otis walked away leaving Mr. Fix-It staring after him. The words still thundered in his ear. He wasn't sure if it was going to make his life any easier, but he knew it didn't matter anymore. You are what you are, things never change. You can only do what you can.

Ahhh who cares

Decisions. Choices. Thoughts. Regrets. Pain..sadness.
Emotions.
Things running through my head. My tooth hurts and my subconscious runs amuck. Amuck. Amuck. Amuck.
I realized today that I'm not crazy, I'm just mad. I know the difference between right and wrong. I know the difference between sanity and insanity, yet I still talk to myself. And sing badly to songs that I don't know all the words to. There, my secret life is out. In the open for all to see. Now, doesn't that feel better?
Except, we can't let all the secrets out. Got to keep me locked away deep inside. The little secret that no one knows. Except me. Damn my eyes.
My tooth hurts, my guts hurt, my chest sometimes hurts (I think that's mostly gas.) I'm dying. Well maybe not immediately, but it's going to come one day. I mean, in that sense we are all dying. I just suspect mine is sooner rather than later. But then I court death. Living on the edge.
I hear voices outside my window. But that's not possible, I'm thirty feet off the ground. Maybe I'm just hearing voices.
Ohhhh the stories I could tell. I should be writing those instead of these sad pleas for help. I am slowly accepting the course for my life. It's hard fighting pre-determined destinies. Another life I will find my happiness, just not this one.
I try to be happy, I try to move on. I gave up trying to forget. Easier to forget my own name.
I gave up. Trying was too hard. Acceptance is easier. Resistance is futile.
I laugh at myself. I try to stay positive and it goes to shit. The worst part is I know you're reading these.
Never question my ninja.

Time for happiness in dreams.

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Failure

I failed.
No matter how hard I tried, it failed. I could have done more, I should have done more. It wasn't enough. I failed.
I could have been more, a better friend, a true confidant. I could have listened better, been a better friend. I could have paid more attention. I failed.
Life goes on, but not for me. Trapped in the sea of disbelief. When it mattered the most, I could not produce, I failed.
I wish I could do it all over again. The choices made different, the words left unsaid. I failed.
The one thing I swore to do, I failed. The only thing that mattered, I failed.
My word was not good, there is no happy ending. I failed.

Failure was not an option, it was life and death. The result was death, and I failed you.

Could I have done more to keep the barrel from your head?
Could I have done more to keep you from being dead?
I failed.

Life isn't always roses, and what we want can be unattainable as the moon. But we don't always get that second chance. And we have to make the most of it. Failure is as part of life as success or death. It is all intertwined, intermingled. No one could have stopped that bullet. And life goes on.

Without failure there would never be successful. Life goes on, and I have to live with my failures.

If only things would never change

Rain.
It comes pouring down, beating hard upon the roof. I lay in bed, listening to it come down, missing you. I wonder if you miss me, I wonder if you even realize I'm gone; so caught up in your world.

Life ends, life begins.
A friend shoots himself in the head. A child is born to happy parents. Both happening at the same time, and I'm a bystander looking at other's lives.
I once thought I would be there, be the father, stand by your side as a husband. I never thought I would be alone. And yet it is so fitting. Exactly what I deserve.

Rain. It continues to fall.
There are days where I wish I could forget. Forget how awesome you are, how happy I was to hear you laugh. The silence rules my life.
I know it's for the best. I was never a part of this world, so I can't enjoy the fruits of life. I am the ghost, nonexistent, ephemeral. A specter, a dream, a figment of imagination. I will soon wake from this dream into the next, and my journey will continue.

Rain. It's my only consolation.
I wonder if you lay there, listening to the rain, thinking of me. Can you hear my heart beating? Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Or am I only dreaming?....sorry, 80's moment.

I wish my head were an etch-a-sketch so I can shake it clean and forget how wonderful you are and how you made me feel. I never expected anything different. I just want to forget perfection.

Rain. Let it wash me away, like a ghost into fog, and vanish in the night.

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Smokin Nights

The sounds of the band warming up greeted him upon opening the door. "Good," he thought to himself, "I haven't missed anything." Smiling politely at the hostess, he indicated that it would just be himself tonight and presented her with his ticket. She nodded and proceeded to show him to his table. It paid to buy your tickets early, he wanted a table as close to the stage as possible, he didn't want to miss a thing.

Settling into his chair, he scanned the area around him. The venue was filling up fast, the people as diverse as the city they lived in. Neither color nor profession had any rank here, it was a gathering of like-minded people all to experience the same sensation, pure musical delight. He smiled, amused, at the look of the rich people. They weren't sure they should be congregating among the common folk, but that was the way it was. If they wanted to hear her sing. A siren's song.

The waitress approached, asking him if he would like a drink. He considered for a moment, then ordered a rum and coke. She nodded and proceeded on. It wasn't his typical drink of choice, but after a momentary consideration, he decided that asking for something unusual was probably not the best of choices. Best to keep it simple. It wasn't like he was trying to get drunk, he just wanted something to keep his throat from getting parched.

The smell of smoke wafted through the air. This was a smoking venue, one of the few left. "But then, how could you listen to this sort of music without smoking?" he mused. He pulled out some papers and his stash. He didn't fancy the tobacco, but the other stuff was just right for him. In this crowd, nothing would be said. The smoke was a mixture of cigarettes, cigars and pot. His smoking would go completely unnoticed.

His drink arrived just before she came on stage. He sat ready, drink in hand, blunt in the other. She stepped out onto stage. He was mesmerized, spellbound waiting for the first notes of her voice. The cello started it's rhythmic thumping, the tap-tap on the snare, and then the piano started trilling out a melody. The lights dimmed noticeably, leaving only the spotlight on her.

She was breathtaking in a blue dress, accented in sequins. Her hair was black as a raven's, her skin alabaster. The slope of her half naked shoulder would excite most, and the curve of her hip finish what the shoulder started. His eyes drank it all in, he couldn't get enough. Her head was bowed, looking down towards the floor. He could see her hand slowly keeping time with the bass.

Finally, she reached the point in the intro she was looking for, and with her opening notes of pure joy, she raised her head. Her eyes seemed to look deep into one's soul, the slight blue eyeliner under her eyes brought out the hazel in her eyes, making her the rarest of beauties. Her lips, while parted, were full and lusciously red. He couldn't break his gaze, he was in pure heaven. As the notes floated past him, he sighed, and sat back.

Life could end for him now, he had found happiness.

Discordant echoes of a broken heart

I'm freezing to death,
I wish you were laying next to me.
It wouldn't make me warmer,
But nice still the same.

I dream about you constantly,
I mutter your name.
To think I held you yesterday,
The love remains the same.

It's so dark and lonely,
I can only blame myself.
My actions, your choice,
Only one course to take.

Happiness is fleeting,
Dreams upon gossamer wings.
I knew your love,
I looked deep into your eyes.

The only thing I see are my eyes,
Staring back at me accusingly.
You are the one I want,
And what I want is so unreal.

The walls go high,
and I retreat.
Walking away into the sunset,
Only to live in darkness.

Some things were never meant to be.

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Artic south

I hate being cold. Super happy eyes for heaters that someone special once bought. As I drift off to sleep, I dream of what could have been

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Echoes in my head

You gotta know when to hold them,
Know when to fold them,
Know when to walk away,

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Contrast

Oh what a contrast. The exact opposites, inexplicably linked in the struggle of life and death. The halves of a whole.

"Never make eye contact." That was the mantra to avoid beggars. She usually had no troubles with this rule. It was one of basic necessity in the world today. There were so many people begging, hands out, wanting something for nothing. It was a lesson learned quickly and early. One she rarely forgot. Except now, her mind had been wandering, he did this to her. That stupid man. He made her so mad.

The man approached her car, sign up, hand out. She recoiled from the sight of him. He seemed a charcoal skeleton. Closer the skeleton came, she shrank down in the car, involuntarily inching away from the door. Her window was partially down, the weather was so nice, but now there was no escape. She frantically checked the doors, making sure they were locked. Her vehicle was the height of luxury, with every convenience available; yet nothing was available to save her from the specter that approached.

"Spare some change, little miss?" the man mumbled. She slowly pulled out her purse; she didn't feel as if she could say no now, not that she had acknowledged his presence. She slowly reached for her purse, praying that the light would change. She couldn't go any slower now, he was right beside the car. His odor drifted through the window, the smell of beer, urine and unwashed body. It was revolting, and made her delicate senses reel. Her eyes watered, and she desperately searched for any bill. Grabbing the first one, she thrust it into his cracked and dry hands. "Here," she choked out.

As his hand removed itself from the window and he took a shuffling step back, the light changed. She floored the car, racing away from his presence. She couldn't escape fast enough, back into her world of beauty and luxury, far from the gritty nightmare that life had presented her.

Henry stared at the bill in his hand. It was a hundred dollar bill. He usually only got ones when he begged, or change. Never anything this large. In fact, he realized that he hadn't seen a bill this large in a long, LONG time. The memories started flooding over him. He hadn't always been like this. As the memories returned, his slouching posture straightened, his eyes cleared, he held his head up. Henry remembered who he had been.

Henry had once been a proud black medical student. While not tall, he wasn't short either, standing 6'1" tall with a slender build, but ebony black skin. Henry stood out in a crowd, especially when fighting for equality in the 60's as one of the first African-Americans to go to Medical School. But he finished and soon began a career as a doctor. Not long after he graduated, Henry met the love of his life, Ellen. After a short courtship, the two were soon married.
Henry couldn't have been happier with his life. A loving wife, a good job, and three children. Henry's life had been one of picturesque ease. His children, the eldest the only boy, were the jewels of his eye. Yes, life was good for Henry. But as his children grew older, the world grew more and more dangerous. It almost killed him when his youngest daughter got caught up in drugs and died from an overdose. His eldest boy had enlisted in the Army and his only remaining daughter was finishing college and getting married. Life was moving fast for Henry, he had advanced at work, but those advancements just brought more work, stress and responsibility. The death of his youngest strained his married life, he and his wife grew more and more distant. Henry begin to pour himself further into work, spending more and more time there. To unwind, he started drinking.
Then 9/11 hit, and his son was deployed overseas. That was the last time Henry would see his son alive. The war didn't spare his son, a roadside bomb detonated ending the son's life. Henry couldn't cope with the loss. He began to drink heavily, and his wife no longer wanted to be around him, so she left him. No longer having anything to live for, Henry sank deep into depression, drinking to get through the day. It affected everything about his life. He lost his job because of being drunk at work, he lost his money and house in the divorce, and with no job, he couldn't afford to keep a roof over his head.
Having reached rock bottom, Henry became homeless, begging for money for food and alcohol. He lived in the streets, finding shelter wherever he could. And he grew older.

Until that fateful day.
Henry saw the white BMW pull up to the light. He thought maybe he could get a few dollars so he could get something to eat. Henry hadn't eaten in days it felt like. He had been sick with the changing of the seasons, and couldn't find the energy to get up and do anything. Today was the first day that he had gotten up and some food would be especially welcome. Even though he had fallen far in life, Henry could never forget his medical training. The other homeless even called him, "Doc". He had helped many of them in one form or another, many times trading skill for alcohol. The homeless didn't always have any other options. 
Henry could tell as he approached the car that the woman was afraid of him. People like her rarely made eye contact and usually wouldn't give him the time of day and definitely not money. But she had made that eye contact, so Henry approached, sign in one hand, the other extended. He had little energy, so he took small steps, moving slowly. He could see that the woman inside was terrified of him. Henry knew that he wasn't the most appealing person to look at, but he wondered that he could cause so much fright in another human being. Had he really become such a monster?
Opening his mouth with difficulty, her fear was making it hard for Henry to find words, Henry managed to get out the words, "Spare some change, little miss?". But they came out breathy and soft, spoken in a hurry that it was. Henry wasn't sure he could manage to speak anything else to a person so abjectly terrified of his mere presence. The fear stung him in places he thought was long forgotten. She grabbed a bill and thrust it into his hand. Henry slowly withdrew his hand. As soon as he was clear of the window, the light changed and the woman sped off crazily.
Henry stared at the bill in his hand. It was a hundred dollar bill. He usually only got ones when he begged, or change. Never anything this large. In fact, he realized that he hadn't seen a bill this large in a long, LONG time. The memories started flooding over him. He hadn't always been like this. As the memories returned, his slouching posture straightened, his eyes cleared, he held his head up. Henry remembered who he had been.
At just that instance, the sound of a car crash crescendo-ed on him. Henry jerked his head to see a horrendous car crash in front of his eyes. The woman had sped off through the green light, but failed to see the speeding truck that had run the red light. He had plowed into her car and smashed it all to pieces. Henry could smell the gas coming from the BMW and see the fire burning in the front. The lady needed to be rescued immediately.
For a brief instance, Henry froze. He was torn. All of his prior training came flooding back with the realization of whom he was, warring with the stark look of terror on the woman's face. The look of revulsion that she had given him. She had been repulsed by his mere presence. But Henry knew that he was the only person here who had any chance of saving that poor woman.
Hesitation finished, Henry gather himself and rushed to the BMW. Reaching through the smashed passenger side, Henry pulled the woman from the car as safely as he could, doing his best not to injure her further. He knew that at any moment, this car could go up in flames; the gas fumes were getting stronger. With a massive effort, Henry managed to free the woman and pull her to the relative safety of the nearby sidewalk. As Henry reached the sidewalk, puffing and straining with the exertion, there was a boom and concussion and the fuel from the car ignited.
Henry slumped to the ground beside the woman. People had stopped and were starting to congregate in a small group nearby. Struggling to catch his breath, Henry managed to call out "Call an Ambulance", but that was the extent of what he could manage. Henry felt a sharp pain in his chest and his left side went numb. The years outdoors had not been kind to Henry and his recent bout with sickness had left him weak. He had used up all his energy saving the woman. As Henry struggled to breath, he reached over and checked the woman's pulse. She still had a pulse. Light, and fluttering, but still there. Henry laid back on the ground. He couldn't keep his eyes open now, his breaths were still struggling to come. As the darkness closed in, Henry smiled to himself. At least he did something to be proud of with his last breaths. It was time to go home to his family and the dreams of yesterday. 

Jazzing Life Away (part 5)

Arthur cinched the saddlebags of his motorcycle closed. He wanted to make sure everything was nice and tight, he was pretty sure that he was going to have to do some crazy driving. New Orleans was a great place to live. And horrible to try and escape from. There were only so many exits from the city. Paved exits. It was easy for a large crew to watch the highways coming into a city. Arthur had done it many times. So any of those routes would be out.
Arthur smiled. It was just as well, he wasn't leaving the city, just relocating. The wasted man-power would make it that much easier for him to avoid notice on surface streets within the city. Arthur checked his security cameras. The brown car was still parked where it had been. Arthur hadn't been inside that long, but one never knew in this business. He liked to be prepared for every situation.
Checking one last time that he had everything, Arthur went over his checklist. Satisfied that he had what he needed, Arthur checked one more time on his security settings. That accomplished, Arthur climbed on his bike, and started it up. The deep rumble coming up between his legs got Arthur's blooding flowing. It was time. He pressed the button on the wall beside him to open his garage door, there was no remote for this, only direct access inside.
Revving up his engine, Arthur rumbled out, the door closing as soon as he passed the last sensor. Rolling around the building, Arthur kept it slowed as he drove right past the brown car, getting a good look at the two men sitting inside. The look of surprise on their faces was priceless as they realized who he was, and the fact that he was going to leave them. As that look of recognition hit them, Arthur pulled back on the throttle and roared down the street. Looking in his mirrors, he could see the car pulling out rapidly behind him. The chase was on. Arthur increased his speed, blowing through a stop sign. It was time for the wild goose chase.
Arthur loved driving his motorcycle. He also liked driving fast. And outsmarting an opponent. Put all three of those together and Arthur was as happy as could be. He roared down streets, making sudden turns and quick acceleration, all the while making sure he didn't outpace the car. Arthur wanted the tail to follow him. Because soon enough, he would turn things around and follow them.
Arthur weaved his way from his office in Mid-City towards Lakeview and City Park. Turning onto Carrolton Ave right before he got to Orleans, Arthur continued north towards City Park. Soon enough, the brown car appeared behind him. "Good," he thought. Ahead, on the side of the road, he could see the white caprice of his team. They were in place. Now to make things interesting. Arthur accelerated rapidly, forcing the brown car to keep pace, he wanted to lose the car now. Assured that the car wasn't going to lose him easily, Arthur gunned the bike to a break neck speed and made a quick turn into city park. The car struggled to keep up with his pace. Arthur roared through the quiet streets of the park, quickly outpacing the car, it was fading faster and faster. Reaching a slight curve in the road, Arthur killed his lights and made a quick veer onto an old golf trail. The moonless night allowed for plenty of shadowy cover underneath the oak and cypress trees. As he took the trail, Arthur flipped a custom switch he had had installed, effectively killing the reverberation of the muffler. His motorcycle made no more noise than a bicycle. Arthur coasted to a stop fifty feet from the road and crouched down.
The car came flying through the curve, desperately trying to catch up. They never even saw him. After they had passed back by, Arthur set about camoflauging his bike and himself. He knew they would be back, tracing their trail looking for just such a subterfuge as he had pulled. But since Arthur didn't know if they had called for back-up or not, he felt it was best to hide and let his team tail them back. Arthur knew they were already on the case and he had absolute confidence in their work. Soon, he would know what was going on. And who was out to get him and why. Maybe it would all start to make sense. Soon.

Whispers

"Lee"
He turned. It was her voice again, calling from the ethos. He paused, halting the shuffle of his feet. He peered around, but found no indication of life outside every day nature.
He waited. Just like he had been since the first time her voice had come to him. He figured that a voice speaking from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, probably had something important to say.
A length of time passed, but nothing else was uttered. The pattern continued. He heard her voice quite often now. Always he listened for something further, but to no avail.
Her voice, that simple utterance of his name, brought back happy memories, followed by dark. He had wandered since she left. Nothing had meaning, nothing had a point.
"Lee"
The voice seemed closer now. He loved her so, and soon he would home. But first, he had to find her. He had searched for so long, only to have missed her. Nothing was ever easy. He scanned everywhere nearby, knowing that she was there. But his search remained fruitless. The light was fading, he needed to be on his way.
Her voice always brought the same memories. The happy times together, the fun, the laughter, those wonderful nights with her in his arms, the sex. But it inevitably led to the dark memories. The fights, the hurtful words, crying, doors slamming, and then that one night when she just left. He had been traveling ever since.
"Lee"
He stopped again, looking around. He knew she was somewhere here. She had to be, how else could her voice come so clear. He peered into every nook and cranny. He was sure she was somewhere nearby.
The memories came as they always did. Good memories, bad memories. Happy times, bad times. And then there was that night she left. He had been lost ever since.
"Lee"
The bright light in his eyes hurt. He struggled away from it, trying to find relief in the dark coolness. But the voice wouldn't leave him alone. Over and over, she called his name. "Lee" He was losing control. He was weeping openly now. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take the torture of knowing that he failed her. Knowing that he couldn't be what she wanted. He yearned for the release that he felt death would bring.
The light begin to fade, the cool darkness returning.
"Lee." she called again, this time, he could make out her form. She was just over the rise, waiting in the shadows in the woods. She was beckoning him onward, he knew that if he could only reach her, he would find that peace he sought.
"Lee, Mr. Lee. If you can hear us, please don't fight. You are bleeding severely, we need to stop the bleeding, Mr. Lee. We are going to get you to the hospital, Mr. Lee. Just stay with me, Mr. Lee." the voice was getting fainter as he got closer to her. Just a few more steps and he would be free.
"Shit, we're losing him. Mr. Lee stay with me. Mr. Lee..... He's going, give me the paddles."
He reached out and took her hand. The world exploded into light. He had found his happiness.
"Time of death, 10:40 a.m......"

Solemn

She had been in his life as long as he could remember. She had lived next door since she was born. He couldn't remember this as he was in diapers, but his mother always said he looked thunderstruck from the moment he had lain eyes on her.
Even as a child, he knew she was important to his life. He played with her every day. He endured the tea parties, and dress up, because it was what she wanted to do. Luckily for him, she liked exploring and sports as well.
He remembered standing up for her in the play ground when the mean girls picked on her. She was so mad at him that she ignored him for a month. He could still remember that month. That horrible feeling of not being around her.
As they grew older, they went to different schools. She went to an all-girls school, while he "enjoyed" the public school system. But every day after school, they would spend hours talking and laughing.
The last fight they had was what ended all of it. She was dating this really bad guy, but she couldn't see it. One night, he happened to be outside when the guy dropped her off. Being the jerk he was, the jerk started getting too fresh with her. He stayed out of it until he heard her cry out in pain. He didn't remember anything else until the police showed up. He had put the jerk in a coma, and was going to jail. The look of hurt and betrayal tore his heart out. In protecting her, he hurt her more.
The charges were dropped, the jerk awoke and refused to press them, he was never sure why. But it was off to military school for him. Two years he struggled there, achieving high marks and rank advancement. But he never forgot the pain he had caused. No good grade could make up for the hurt he caused.
Right before he graduated, his mother sent him a letter saying her family was moving, and they didn't want him to know where. Crushed, with no reason to go home, he joined the military. He went for special ops, the most dangerous missions. He felt no need to live.
Two tours he served, fighting in the heaviest of battles, earning medal upon medal. He knew that this was his destiny, and then his father passed away.
The funeral was small and quiet, the way his father wanted. He stood at the grave site, after everyone had left, to say his final goodbyes. He heard a throat clear and turned to find an older version, a more mature beautiful version, of her standing there.
She paid her respects, conveyed her condolences, all the while he stood there mute. She started talking about herself, apologizing for that night. She talked about missing him, soul-searching for a way to write a letter to him explaining her feelings for him. But she never could find the fight words. Then her parents, fearing that she was becoming obsessed, moved. She had no choice but to go.
He was utterly amazed. Here was this beautiful woman telling him that she had feelings for him and had missed him. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was dumbstruck.
As he opened his mouth to tell her all of these feelings he had inside, she dropped the bomb shell on him. She was getting married.
He went cold inside, shocked. In one brief moment, his wishes had been granted only to leave his dreams destroyed.

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Corridors

To call it a dimly lit hallway would have been a compliment. To have called it disgusting would have been an accolade. But here he was, looking down this hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity. How he got here, he couldn't really tell you. A few drinks, some alone time, then it all gets foggy. Now the fog was gone, leaving this dingy old hallway full of doors.

As bad as it was, he seemed to feel comfortable, right at home. This was him. In more ways than one. It seemed to fit his personality. Dark, and dirty. Home.

While the hallway stretched endlessly, it wasn't empty. There were doors after doors after doors. At first, he thought he had just woken up in a seedy hotel. But a quick glance around had dissuaded him of that notion. He looked again for any sign of where he was, or an "exit" sign. At this point, he decided he really wasn't going to be picky. There were only two ways to look, and neither direction had any flicker of a red light. No exit sign in sight.

He stood for a minute in the middle of the hallway, peering first one direction, and then the other. Either way could be the way to go. There were no markings, no door numbers, nothing. Just a repetitious monotony of doors in a dimly lit hall. Both directions were the same. Finally, he decided that it probably didn't matter which way he went, they both would eventually lead somewhere.

Picking a direction, he called it his "right", he started walking.

The problem with walking in a monotonous hallway is that there is really no way to measure how far one has walked. There are no landmarks to measure against, no way of telling the passage of time, everything looks the same. After a period of walking, he finally came upon a chair. It was so out of character with the monotony of the hallway as to leap to his attention. Approaching the chair, he decided to sit down, somewhat disheartened by his apparent lack of progress.

"What the hell kinda place is this?" he muttered. His day/evening wasn't going well. He had woken up from some sort of stupor to find himself in a hallway that went nowhere and never changed. He felt muddled, like his head was stuffed in cotton and someone was trying to teach him astrophysics. He shrugged off his jacket, and in doing so, thought he saw the flicker of movement. His head snapped up, there was someone else here.

Standing he dashed down the hall towards the movement. "Maybe they can tell me how to get out," came his feverish thought. He had had enough of this crazy fun-house and he wanted to leave. Reaching the extent of his ability to run, he found he still hadn't seen another person. But he did see a chair ahead.

As he approached the chair to catch his breath, he saw that there was something lying crumpled on the floor. Coming closer, he realized that it was his jacket, laying on the floor beside the chair. The chair that he had run from all that way behind him. The implications of the situation were starting to freak him out a bit. Whatever hell he was in, this was fucked up.

Stooping down to retrieve his jacket, he noticed a piece of paper on the ground, under the chair. Desperate for any sort of information, even nonsensical information. would be appreciated. Something, anything. Picking up the note so that he could read the scratchy handwriting, what he saw dropped his mouth and froze him. It wasn't more than a simple sentence, but it filled him with dread.

"to leave, you open every door and face your past injustices"

To leave, he had to atone for every wrong he had ever done.

"So, this is hell," he mummered..

Faded photograph

I fell asleep on the couch. I had a dream that you were snuggled up beside me. I woke to find you gone.
I sit on the porch, trying to make sense of things. Nothing makes sense, the outcome doesn't match the effort.

I know, now, that you weren't here. It was all a figment of my dreams. You didn't come, and won't ever come. It's just wishful thinking.

You left long ago, when I couldn't change. I knew then it was for the best. I had to drive you away, this was no life for a baby, our baby.

It tore my heart out, watching you leave, but it was for the best. I kept telling myself that. It was the only way I could ever hurt you. But it had to be done, it was for the best.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss you. Waking without you has become a common occurence. You haunt my dreams.

But not the you that you've become. The one that you would have been in a perfect world. The person who achieved all their potential and loved life. You look at me with those big eyes and I just melt.

The night is still, the fog rolling in off the river. A perfect night for snuggles. I see your shadow move through the fog. I sit up, hoping it's real, only to watch the fog roll some more, moving you away. A specter in the night.

I'm lost in the dream of yesterday. Holding your hand. Happy.

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Teddy

How does a one define that moment when you know you are in love?
Experts have define all sorts of scientific reasons and occurrences that happen with "love".All of which are logical and have sound reasoning. They can be measured and weighed. The scientists know the chemistry of love. But no one really understands the heart. Generations upon generations of people have contemplated this concept of love since time immortal. Gurus and Shamans, Priestesses and Priests, all claiming to have a bead on what makes the heart fall in love.

For Teddy, it was the first moment he laid eyes on Lucy. Such a precious child. The excitement in her eyes as she asked him to come play, how could he have said no to that smile. Teddy was entranced. He was enthralled, Lucy held him in the palm of her hand.

The years passed, and as they did, so did the friendship of Teddy and Lucy. They confided everything in each other, crying on shoulders, pillow talk, the two were inseparable. Teddy loved every minute of it. Lucy was his world. He wanted nothing more in life than to make Lucy happy. He took on bullies, mean teachers for her, he was her knight in shining armor. There was nothing wrong that Teddy could do.

Then puberty set in. Lucy realized that there were other things in life than hanging out with old, scruffy Teddy. He tried hard to be there for her, but Lucy was always a bit of a wild child, and they grew apart. Lucy went her own way with the popular crowd, and Teddy just sat in the shadows, living out life alone.

It seemed like only a minute, a day had passed since they were running through the fields, or having a tea party, but high school graduation came around and Lucy went off to college. Teddy didn't want to go anywhere, so he stayed put. It seemed that Teddy was waiting for Lucy to miss him and come home. People would shake their heads at the sight of Teddy, knowing that his dreams were all for naught. Lucy had out-grown their friendship. Life would never be the same for Teddy, it seemed that he was just gathering dust, waiting.

The years passed and they weren't kind to Teddy, he grew solemn and subdued, a shadow of his former self. He had long ago given up hope of ever seeing Lucy again. The last whispers he had overheard was that she had gotten married and was getting ready to give birth to her first child. Teddy had been crushed, his soul destroyed. He had no reason to go on. Everyone could see that he was a fragment of his former self, a shell with no stuffing. There was nothing left in him.

Teddy vanished from thin air it seemed one day. No one could remember where they had seen him last. They gave a brief search for him, but it seemed everyone was glad to see him gone. He was old and bedraggled now. No one wanted to be around him. Teddy was broken and wasting away, rotting and molding it was said.

Then one day, Lucy came home. She brought with her a precocious toddler and a heaping of emotional baggage. Like most relationships in our modern times, it didn't last. Lucy had caught her ex cheating so now she was on her own. With a baby to raise. She needed Teddy. He was the only one who could help her. But no one knew where he had gone. In fact, no one had even thought about him in years.

This wouldn't do for Lucy. She was on the verge on a mental breakdown, and now to hear of this, that Teddy was missing. It just simply wouldn't do.
 Lucy searched high and low for Teddy, day in and day out. She nearly wore herself to a sick bed, not eating or sleeping, so intense was her search for Teddy.

She finally found him one day, in the back of an old shed at the edge of the property. A place they had spent lots of time in as children, a special place for the both of them. Lucy found him weeping his loss of her. She was so overcome with relief upon finding him, that her tears joined with his, and they wept in bitter happiness. For Teddy was in really bad shape, he had come here to pass on to the other world. Teddy could never give up hope that she would come back.

Frowning through her happy tears, Lucy looked down at Teddy and said, "We have to get you cleaned up. You have been my companion through all the tough time, always there for me. I need you now, like I never needed you before. I need you for my daughter, Emma."


With that, Lucy picked up Teddy,"I'm going to make you new again, Teddy. I need you to help me raise my daughter, Emma."
Teddy couldn't have been happier, with the woman he loved, doing her bidding. He really was a cuddly teddy bear.

Jazzing Life away (part 4)

Pulling up in front of his building, Arthur checked to see if the tail was still behind him. His plan wouldn't work if it had pulled off. Arthur was a bit puzzled with their tactics though, you didn't just tail someone from behind the whole time. It just wasn't a productive, inconspicuous way to do things. Even the best driver would get spotted by someone paying attention. "So why were these people so obvious?" Arthur wondered. But now wasn't the time for speculation.

Lee was looking at Arthur expectantly. She had obviously asked him a question, and he had no idea what it was. The blank look on his face giving him away, Arthur opened his mouth to ask her what she had said. Lee forestalled him by saying, "What I said, while you were looking very intently into the side mirror, was what now? Are you really going to go into your office? With that brown car that has been following us since we left lock-up?" Lee wasn't that unfamiliar with his work. She knew what Arthur did, she had gotten his butt out of many troubles. She was a really smart woman. Arthur smiled. "I would kiss you if I wasn't like this, you beautiful woman, you. I need that key I gave you after the Bordeaux case." Lee frowned. That case had been real bad, breaking and entering, kidnapping, all involving this family from one of the low parishes. They had broken into Arthur's office. After which, he had some security features added, and had given her the key for safe-guarding, telling her that he never wanted to ever use it.

Arthur nodded. "It's that serious. I can't tell you about it now. I just can't. You can't know anything right now." The worry grew on Lee's face. Arthur held up his hand to reassure her. "I don't think you are in any danger. But I need to be in "crisis" mode. I need you to go on high alert. Do you remember what I told you to do?" Lee nodded, her lips tight, compressed. She didn't like this, but she knew it was what was needed. Arthur wouldn't be telling any of this if he didn't think it was this serious. "Ok, now when you drive off, you may or may not be followed. I am going to get out and go inside, I have my motorcycle stashed inside, so I will leave that way. I am only going inside to get my gear and then I am out. I am going to the safe house." Arthur had a number of safe houses, New Orleans provided many different avenues for dwellings, all of which appealed to different aspects of his job. You never knew in his business.

Arthur asked, "Do you still have the taser I gave you?" Lee nodded and patted the middle console. "Good, don't go anywhere without it. Now I want you to drive to your home and pack a few bags. Keep an eye out for anyone following you. After you are ready to leave, if they did follow you to your house, call one of your police friends and get them to come harass the car while you leave.Go to your safe house. Stay there. Got it?" Lee gave him a tight smile and nodded. Arthur continued, knowing he needed to be going soon; they had been in the car too long, it was starting to get suspicious. "I am going to stash the cell phone. I will get some burnable ones and call you once I do. Be careful and stay safe." Lee leaned over and kissed him hard, Arthur could tell she was scared. This wasn't her world. Her world was full of innuendo and back-handed comments. She could battle with the best of them, and was a composed woman. But the life of a private detective was gritty, raw and fast-paced. Lee was out of her element. But she trusted Arthur and he really needed her at her best right now.

Breaking the kiss, and giving her a smile, Arthur stepped out of the car. He stretched, surveying the surroundings, looking quickly for the tails. It still seemed to be the one. They weren't trying to hide, sitting right out in the open. Leaning in slightly, Arthur spoke loudly for others to overhear, "Ok, I will be about an hour, just come back then." Lee nodded and Arthur closed the door. The ruse had been started. No matter what, Arthur was committed. He had to see this to the end. Lee drove off, as planned. The brown car didn't move, sitting in the same spot. Either they had another car to tail Lee, or they weren't interested in her. It didn't matter to Arthur. They were now the enemy, and Arthur was going to find out more about them.

Arthur walked to the front door of his building. He liked his building, having bought it about a dozen years ago. To keep people from knowing that it was mostly used by his detective agency, Arthur rented out the street store front to a local music store. They were a little bohemian, but their smoking grass out behind his building didn't bother him. It was the last place anyone would suspect of being a giant spy factory. Arthur smiled, it was ingenious really. Originally the building had been structurally unsound. It was an older design of building, dating back to the late 1800's. It had a crumbling stucco exterior with thick walls. Arthur had the inside gutted and rebuilt to withstand a direct hit by a mortar round. He had built a fortress, without doing a single improvement to the outside of the building. He built a fortified basement with gun safes a water purification system. Then in the attic, he set up a grow-room for crops, and then installed massive solar panels on the roof. Arthur could sustain himself there for almost a year without replenishing any sort of supply.

Going around to the back, Arthur watched to make sure he wasn't being followed. It was starting to get dark, but there wasn't any kids hanging out behind the shop. "Strange," Arthur mused, this time yesterday he had been getting ready to go tail his mark. Now, he was in full crisis mode and was being set up for murder. Arthur wasn't really sure what he had stumbled upon. But he was damn sure he was going to get to the bottom of this. Arthur knew he had plenty of enemies. You didn't spy on people for a living and make lots of friends, but this didn't seem like the type of revenge that Arthur usually received from his normal clients. This had the hallmarks of professionals.

Arthur knew that going into his office was a risk. There surely was a trap in there, but it was the only way to reach his basement. Everything was there. His weapons, his money, his information, his bike, everything. Arthur had an escape tunnel to ride the bike out of, but there was no way to enter that way. He would have to blow a door to get out on a main street. Once blown, there was no quick replacement. Arthur really didn't want to go that route, he would rather just ride it away, but he did have every contingency planned for. However, the only real way to reach the basement was down his secret stairs, you couldn't access it any other way. And those stairs were behind a fake wall in his office. Which was upstairs. High above the ground. So many things could go wrong.

Opening the door, Arthur stepped inside quickly, scanning the room. No movement, no sound other than himself, he paused listening intently. When Arthur heard nothing to raise his suspicions, he turned on the lights. Seeing nothing but a room in disarray, Arthur proceeded cautiously. The layout of the office was simple. A waiting room with a secretaries office, then a long hallway breaking off into a room, a bathroom, and then a large open room with a large office, his office at the back. Nobody would suspect that this was anything out of the ordinary. Arthur kept the office looking this way to support this image. In the basement was his weight/training room, the gun safe, the computer servers, his personal safe, everything important.

It was obvious that someone had been through here, Arthur thought at first. Papers strewn on the floor, pictures askew, drawers open, but Arthur noticed that nothing seemed to have really been touched. As if someone had gone through here disrupting things to make it appear as if someone had searched.
"Stranger and stranger," Arthur thought, "why would someone go to all this effort for nothing?" Things were quickly not adding up. Arthur decided it was best to get what he needed and then get out of here. Nothing was making sense, and this wasn't the place to think about it. Quickly gathering a few items that he needed from the office, he walked to the back wall in the second office. It held a desk and two chairs and a fake tree in the corner, nothing else. Arthur employed a staff, they just never worked here. The only person who ever worked here was a little college girl. She goofed off all day, and didn't ask questions. It was the perfect arrangement for Arthur. She was professional enough when he actually had clients come into the office and that was all he needed.

Walking to the fake tree in the corner, Arthur moved it to reveal a button on the floor with a key slot next to it. Arthur steeped on the button on the floor. The back wall silently slid open, revealing a spiral staircase. Arthur pulled the key from his pocket, and inserted it into the keyslot, and turned the key. He had just armed one of the security features he had added. The next time someone pushed the button without unlocking the button would set off an intruder alarm causing the doors to lock and a knockout gas to be delivered via the air ducts. Arthur wasn't taking any chances. Satisfied, he withdrew the key and started down the staircase. It was time to be going.

Missing

He had that feeling again. It came and went. Usually at the most inopportune time. Such as now, now when he had important things to do. Work never ended.

It was hard to explain, what missing her felt like. It changed almost every day it seemed. But some things  remained the same. The empty void in his soul never went away.

It was in the little things. The way she used to say his name, depending on the inflection, could either bring waves of joy or him looking for a place to hide. But no matter how she said his name, the absence of that voice now echoed louder than her words ever did.

It was a physical ache as well. Like he was missing an appendage. He understood what amputees must feel. Like that ghost limb was still there. He could still feel her presence. He wondered if she was as unhappy without him as he was without her.

Her smell would waft around him from time to time causing him to cast about himself searching for her. Her smell was so strong, that he would have sworn she had just walked past. The floral spicy scent that was completely her, there was no perfume like it.

His loss tormented his waking moments, and his slumber was filled with haunting dreams.

But it was the only way he could be. He knew he would never see her again. Not here, locked away for the rest of his life in prison.

Jarring

Alone.
That's all he ever really wanted. Just peace and tranquility. He wanted to get away from the pests, those that wouldn't leave him be.

He felt conspicuous here. Like every eye was on him, watching, waiting. For what?, he never knew. It wasn't like he was going to metamorphose into a butterfly, he wasn't a freaking caterpillar.

Judging and weighing, the scrutiny could become unbearable. But he had no choice, he was trapped in this prison. Ohhhh, how he longed for fresh air, to feel the wind, the sun beating down on him.

He knew it wouldn't be long now before he took the big nap. There really wasn't any other choice for him. He couldn't stay here forever, and they were never going to let him out. No, he was here for good.

Trapped like a fly in a jar.

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Desire

There is a timeline for every event. A list of events preceding the finale. Nothing is truly random.

But he didn't believe this. For his timeline seemed increasingly random. No matter how hard he tried to put the pieces together in some coherent form, it still just didn't add up.

He looked down on the woman sucking his cock. She was taking in his entire length, swallowing every inch and still managing to stroke his cock with her tongue. That took talent.
He shook his head in amazement. It was still all just a random course of events. Random, nothing was random. She pulled her mouth back off his cock, slowly, until the head was all that remained in her mouth. Her tongue licked the head of his dick. It felt so damn good. He couldn't take it any more and grabbed her head with both hands, shoving her mouth all the way down on his cock, pushing the head into her throat. With a massive thrust, he came deep in her throat. He couldn't help hunching her face a little, pushing her head deep into his crouch. Spent, he pulled out of her mouth and sat back.

Such random events, and yet here he was. Getting his cock sucked, and from the furious way the woman was rubbing her pussy, he knew he was fixing to ruin that. His cock throbbed with desire, there was no waiting for the next hard-on, he was ready to go.

Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and spread her legs. With the same intensity, he shoved his engorged cock hard into her wet pussy. She cried out in pain and pleasure. He didn't want to draw attention to what he was doing, so he put his hand over her mouth, silencing her. She came instantly, he could feel her hot juices running down his balls and legs. Her pussy muscles pulled him deeper into her.
With reckless abandonment, he started thrusting into her. Pulling out in long deep strokes and slamming as hard into her as he could, each time drawing an exclamation from her. She was enthralled, lost in the midst of a massive organism. She was his for the taking. Harder and harder he pounded, the slap of his balls against her ass was only marked by her halfmoans of pleasure.

Still she was too loud, he tightened his hand over her mouth, reducing to noise to a muffled grunt. Her eyes cut up towards him, he knew she wanted more. Without a single word being uttered, he moved his hand from her mouth to her throat. He could tell it was what she wanted as her cum ran down his legs again and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Random occurrences, chance meetings. Five minutes earlier, or later and he wouldn't have seen her, he would have missed the opportunity completely. Sure there were other women, but none near as beautiful as her. He thought she would have resisted more when he first approached her, but she went without a struggle. Quickly he had tied her up and taken her away in his van.

Now as he thrust deeper and deeper into the woman, his hand partially restricting her airway, he thought about how willing she had been when he had started to rape her. She wanted to be raped, even now as he choked off her airway, she wrapped her legs around his body pulling him deeper into her. Almost unconscious, her body was convulsing with one organism after another, each one harder than the last.
The pull of her pussy muscles against his dick had the desired effect, and with a massive thrust that brought a muffled scream, he came deep within her, filling her with his seed.

Spent, he pulled himself off of her, releasing her neck and rolling over onto his back. This set of random events, in any other normal course, would have finished in the murder of the woman. But now, as he lay back, weary from the sex, she just snuggled close to him, content, comfortable.

Such a strange turn of events.

silence speaking volumes

He sat on the couch, watching tv. Life was as normal. Well, mostly. He checked his phone. Still no message. She should have sent something by now. A text, a call, a picture, hell he didn't care. Just as long as he knew she was safe.

That was all that really mattered to him, her well-being. The t.v. played on, but he was no longer paying any attention. He was lost in his memories of her. The way she felt, she smelled, the look in her eyes when she smiled at him. These things warmed his heart on the cold nights alone. He held her so close in his heart.

The few instances they had time to spend together was magical. No words needed to be spoken. It was a meeting of bodies, desire, and fulfillment. He felt so complete when she was around. But things being what they were, these moments were fleeting, and far in-between. But oh so satisfying.

He checked his phone again, just knowing she had contacted him. Still nothing. He checked to make sure the phone was working properly. A brief inspection showed that it was fine. And yet no word from her. Surely she was home by now.

He wished that her home was with him. But she denied the feelings in her heart. She denied the desire inside. Or she tried to.  But she couldn't, and so he would see her, talk with her, hold her in his arms and absorb all her worries. When they were together, the world ceased to exist. It was a utopia.

It had been so wonderful, this past time they were together. Another magical experience. But as always she had to leave. This time though, things had seemed diffierent. Her reluctance to leave was stronger. She wanted to stay. Circumstances forced her to leave.

As he sat waiting, watching the phone. She was all he could think about. Hopefully, soon, she would call.

Lust

He woke from a deep slumber. Something wasn't right. He lay in bed listening. Nothing out of the ordinary. He must have been dreaming. He closed his eyes. Slowly, he started drifting back to his dream. He had been dreaming of her. Of holding her, making love to her. It had been so long since he had last seen her.

"I must be dreaming," he thought. He could smell her smell, her perfume was wafting through the air. Either he was dreaming, or he was imagining things. There could be no way for him to be smelling this smell.

He heard his bedroom door open and close. He was awake now. This was real, happening now. He sat up in bed peering towards the door, dumbfounded that anyone was actually in his room, especially at this time of night. Looking intently, he made out a figure move through the shadows and approach the bed.

As he drew breath to utter a shout of alarm, he was silenced by a simple "shhh." Without another word, or sound, she climbed into his bed. Her body was beautifully naked and exquisite to his eyes. The mooonlight coming in through the windows illuminated most of her naked body, leaving the best parts in shadow. Not really believing his eyes, he watched her lean in for his kiss. He felt her warm lips on his, opening wide with desire, her tongue sliding into his mouth.

No words were necessary. He couldn't control himself. Some form of animal took control. He pulled her tight into him kissing her to her soul. So deeply that for a time they breathed in harmony, exhale for inhale, lips still locked, tongues playing around. He rolled her onto her back and looked down upon her face. He couldn't believe his luck, but he wasn't going to question things. There were other things on his mind.

He leaned his head down, and kissed the side of her neck, drawing an instant response. Her breathing quickened, her nipples harden under his chest. He could feel the desire of her pussy radiating out from her crotch. He wanted to drink from that well so bad, but he had other things that he had to attend to first.

He slowly made his way down her chest, nipping her skin slightly with his mouth, Every time he touched her with his lips, he could feel the skin pebble with her anticipation. He made his way to her breasts, and laid his head between the ample globes. He breathed her scent in deeply, his penis was rock hard, and dripping. Soon, soon he would find his release. Kissing her diamond hard nipples gently, he alternated between one breast and another. Each time finding the nipple harder. He gently sucked a nipple into his mouth, mimicking the suckling of a child. She moaned in agony, she needed release, and he was teasing.

Moving his mouth further south, he found her clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, causing her to inhale sharply. He then sucked it into his mouth and rolled it around. He could smell her cum leaking out of her pussy. She needed to be sucked dry. He placed his mouth over her vagina and started lapping her juices. She cried out in pleasure and came again, hard, clamping his head between her legs like a vice. He just licked and sucked until she rode it out.

As her orgasm subsided, she pulled his head up for a kiss, cleaning her juices from his face. He was so hard it ached, but before he could do anything, she had wrapped her hands around his cock and pulled him into her hot, wet, aching pussy. As desperately horny for fulfillment as she was, he didn't waste any time but pushed himself as hard into her as he could. He could feel her cum again, her pussy walls pulling him deep, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pulled him deeper.

Now was his time. With a practiced stroke, he started pounding her pussy as hard as he could. Using his weight, he just kept thrusting deeper and deeper. Her orgasms were non-stop by now, but he didn't stop. Over and over he thrust, deeper and harder. He felt the end of her, her wall. He was as deep as he could possibly go. He kept thrusting, but knew his climax was near. It had been a long time since they had joined in union.

Feeling his cum rising in him, knowing that there was no stopping it, he pushed as hard into her as he could.As she gasped with pleasure, he kissed her as hard as he could, taking her exhaled breath and filling her with his cum. It was too much for her, and she finally went over the edge.

As she lay there, legs trembling from orgasm, he rolled her onto her side. Even though he had cum, he was still rock hard. Slowly lifting her upper leg, he pushed his throbbing cock into her wet hot cauldron once more. She moaned in contentment, liking the feeling of being filled.

As they drifted towards sleep, he wondered if this was really a dream? He would know when he awoke. But for now, now there was this beautiful sex-starved lover whom he was inside. She was moving her hips slightly, he knew she was ready to go again, he was still rock hard. He smiled, dream or no, he was going to sleep good after all the sex.

Survival

The days got hotter, and longer it seemed. The heat was intense and unrelenting. Who knew the aftermath would be this severe?
He had stayed, waiting, protecting, hoping to have something for her to return to. The house had sustained minimal damage, but the power continued to remain off. Food had long since been eaten or disposed of. Nothing remains to hold onto, everyone has had left long ago. And yet he still waited.

She had left long ago, way before the storm even approached. She said she had to leave, it was for the best.
He had passed his limits a long time ago, sleep deprived, bordering upon starvation and dehydration. And yet he waited.

He waited because his heart told him to. He stayed because he couldn't forget. He hoped for the love that left.

And that would never change.

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Jazzing life away (Part 3)

Ask any tourist caught doing something wrong in the French Quarter and they will tell you the same thing. "Do NOT FUCK with NOPD." This is followed very closely with, "Do whatever you can to avoid going to OPP." Orleans Parish Prison. Full of people awaiting trial for murder, rape, theft. There had never been a place that Arthur had wished to see less. But here he was sitting in general lock-up, hoping Lee would show up soon. She was his only chance.

New Orleans Police were not buying his story. They didn't believe that he didn't murder the woman. Especially when it turned out that she was a high-priced call-girl who specialize in the macabre. If you had perversions, and money, you called her. She would do just about anything. Or so Arthur had been informed repeatedly by the detectives. They tried every which way to get some scrap of confession out of him. After Arthur had given his statement, what he could remember, the police immediately arrested him on suspicion of murder. Apparently blacking out wasn't a legitimate excuse for not remembering the night before.

The detectives interrogated Arthur over and over, but Arthur hadn't been a private eye this long not to know how to avoid answering a question. The third time they tried to get Arthur to change his story, he refused to answer any more questions, and just repeated that he wouldn't answer any more questions without his lawyer. That behavior ended up with him sitting behind bars, waiting on his lawyer Lee.

While Arthur sat there waiting, he racked his memory to provide some clue as to what happened the previous night. He remembered setting up the tail for the assignment, waiting in the bar, following the assignment. Arthur rubbed his right hand gently, his knuckles still hurt from disabling the two men in the alley. "Funny," he thought, "the police haven't made that connection yet. Maybe they were found and released." Arthur was fairly certain that if the police knew about it, they would be piling charges on his head, locking him away in a deep dark hole. Arthur remembered opening the door and going down the hallway. After that, he could remember nothing until waking.

Arthur was sure he had been drugged, but no matter how much he searched himself, Arthur could find no needle marks. There should have been something, and yet the only wounds he had were from fighting the previous night. And the large lump on the back of his head. Arthur thought wryly that he was lucky to be alive. "A blow that hard should have killed me." Indeed, the back of his head hurt fiercely to the touch, making Arthur wonder if it wasn't cracked or damaged. "That's all I need now, for my brain to start leaking out." He chuckled in derision. The way his luck was going, that might soon be the reality.

Lost in thought, Arthur didn't see Lee approach. It wasn't until she cleared her throat that Arthur looked up. And then found himself grinning ear to ear. Lee wasn't a supermodel by any means. She was short, with long legs and a small torso. She had nice hips, but a flat butt. Her stomach was as flat as she could make it, but Lee's genetic make-up didn't give her much help, she still had a slight stomach. Her chest was full and quite a nice place to rest one's head. Arthur liked her raven black hair the most, it was so silky smooth and electrified one's touch. She was the perfect woman for him. Except she was married. And wouldn't leave her husband. No matter how many times he asked. Lee was also his lawyer. That was her stated reason.

Lawyer, or lover, Arthur couldn't have been happier to see her. Lee, on the other hand, was not so excited to be here, in this manner. The frown on her face, and stiff way she held herself betrayed this. She looked quite lawyerly in her dress suit, all formal. Arthur stood and approached the bars of the cell. Lee stepped forwards, but still out of arm's reach. Affection of any sort was immediately out of the question, Lee was letting him know that she was here strictly professionally. Arthur's smile slipped from his face, he started to worry a little.

"What the hell have you done now?"
Lee's voice was stern and cold, distant. "No, don't answer yet. I don't want to talk about that here." Taking a deep breath, Lee's voice gained some more warm as she continued. "Since you called 911, have no priors, and don't seem to have any real connection to the whore, the police are releasing you. However, you cannot leave town, as they still have questions and are looking for some sort of solid evidence to lock you in here for good." Arthur nodded. He had figured as much. Arthur knew he had no blood on him, and the 911 call helped. But there was still the problem with the dead woman, and Arthur also knew the police weren't just going to let him walk right out of here.

"But they are going to let you leave with me," Lee continued, "even though I am not sure I want anything to do with you right now." Lee's disapproval of the whole situation was palpable.  All Arthur could do was nod. Though he longed for the chance to explain what had happened, Arthur knew this wasn't the place for it. It would need to wait until they were safe and secured.

Thirty minutes later, Arthur was on the street with Lee walking towards her car. "I'm going to take you home," she spoke. It was the first time she had said anything since speaking to him outside the cell. After that, silence. Cold, hard silence. "You need a bath, you smell like dead fish." Arthur said nothing until they had gotten in the car and pulled out into the street. Then he spoke, quietly and concisely,
"I am sorry you had to come down there."
Lee started to open her mouth to speak, but Arthur raised his hand to forestall her.
"Let me finish, please."
Lee nodded her head. Arthur continued, "I am glad that you came, and you are right. I stink to high heaven, but home is not where I need to go." Lee looked at him in puzzlement. "I need to go to my office. We can talk there. It will be safe there." Giving him a long hard stare, Lee reluctantly nodded and turned the car down the next street, changing directions. Arthur was staring in the rearview mirror. Very shortly, he nodded to himself.
"We have a tail." he thought. Arthur was fairly sure it was the police, but he wasn't sure. It probably didn't matter anyway. Whomever had killed that poor hooker probably had more than likely already searched his office. Arthur was fairly sure they weren't the ones tailing him. Either way, he had to get to his office. Arthur felt that it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Lee about this. She had been through enough already, and Arthur really wasn't sure what another scare would do to her. Best not to find out until he had to.

Jazzing Life Away (part 2)

There was always this tiny voice in the back of Arthur's head when it felt that he was doing something he shouldn't. It was usually reserved for social interactions that he hated immensely. When Arthur heard the voice, it was generally quiet and non-intrusive. Right now, it was neither. Every sense Arthur possessed was tingling, his inner voice screaming at him to leave NOW!!!!

Arthur hadn't made the reputation that he had by walking away from a situation. As well as he should have, considering the number of times it ended in either the hospital or jail. Arthur didn't feel as if this situation was going to end in either place. His sense of foreboding left Arthur with the unmistakable feeling that this was going to end with someone going to the morgue.

With this sense of foreboding, Arthur pulled his pistol from his holster and checked the chambers. It wasn't a large gun, simply a police issue Smith & Wesson .38 caliber. It had belonged to Arthur's grandfather, a police detective and had served him well. Arthur had never had to fire it outside of a firing range, but he did know how to fire it. Pulling his coat tight, and checking his phone, Arthur also scanned the hallway. It was long and narrow and poorly light. Every other light was out it seemed, and the ones lit had dims bulbs or just flickered in and out. The hallway ended in a heavy metal door about 100 feet from where Arthur was standing. There was only one door. Therefore, only one way for the assignment to have gone. Arthur was positive it was a trap, the men outside had given that away. But why Arthur had no clue about. And he felt he HAD to know at this point.

Approaching the door as quietly as he could, Arthur strained to hear sounds on the other side. Something that would give him some inkling of what was going on. The only sounds Arthur could make out, besides his own quiet breathing, was the faint echoes of thunder and occasionally a snippet of a jazz song, what the wind didn't whip away. Arthur's feeling of trepidation was so strong that he leaned against the wall taking deep breaths. He knew there was just as good of a chance of him being shot when he opened the door as not. But to proceed further, Arthur knew he had to open the door.

With the greatest of care, Arthur slowly pressed the latch down and gently pulled open the door. Once the door was open enough for someone to slip through, Arthur paused and waited. No sound came from inside the door. All he could hear was his own muted breath. And the pounding of his heart. He was so nervous, it felt like it was going to beat its way out of his chest.

Deciding that it was a now or never situation, Arthur threw open the door, and leapt into the room, pistol drawn and ready. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he found himself staring at a scene beyond his wildest dreams. It was a warehouse full of marijuana. Stacked along the walls, hanging from drying racks, growing in a self-contained greenhouse. "What the hell is going here?" Arthur muttered to himself. That was when the world went black.

The first thing that occurred to Arthur as he came to was that he had the worst taste in his mouth. It tasted of week-old socks left to mildew in the sun. It made him gag, and Arthur didn't have a weak stomach. His next thought was that he had been hit by a semi-truck. His body ached as if some giant had tossed him around like a bean-bag. Every muscle felt bruised and banged. Arthur felt as if his head was going to explode from the pressure. Slowly pulling himself into a sitting postion, Arthur leaned back against the wall. He had no idea what had happened to cause him to feel this way, and Arthur also realized he had NO idea where he was.

Working his jaw to loosen it and generate some saliva for his parched mouth, Arthur surveyed the room. He was sitting in his living room. Looking down to the coffee table, he saw a couple of freshly emptied bottles of rum. While not entirely sure, Arthur felt this might explain the condition he now found himself in. If he had tied on a drunk like that, it was no wonder that Arthur's body was now protesting. He wasn't 25 anymore. Hell, he wasn't 35 either. But at that moment he felt 105.

As his body starting waking up, Arthur became of the urgent need to relieve his bladder. This was consistent with the number of empty liquor bottles Arthur saw on the table. Making his way to the bathroom, Arthur scratched his head. While he hurt like he had been drinking all night, Arthur couldn't recall getting drunk. Or why he would have done so. Arthur liked the drink as much as the normal person, but he normally didn't binge as much as he apparently had the night before. Most times he had gotten drunk like that, it had been for a reason, not just a random occurrence.

Pushing the door open to the bathroom, and standing there relieving himself, Arthur let his head roll back and closed his eyes. Finally relieved, Arthur turned around, and opened the door to the bedroom. He was tired and ready to just crawl into bed and get some much needed, alcohol-free sleep. Pulling his clothes off as he crossed the room, Arthur was still struggling with the reality that he couldn't remember anything from the previous night. Pulling back the covers from his bed, Arthur thought it was strange. "I don't ever make my bed." As a bachelor and work-a-holic, Arthur rarely did the house chores another more domesticated man might have. He washed dishes when he had no more clean ones. The same could be said for his clothes. He tried to sweep one a week, and that was the extent of Arthur's housecleaning schedule.

Arthur found himself staring in disbelief at the sight in front of him. "there is so much blood," came the unbidden words to his lips. "where, what...." Arthur couldn't form a complete sentence. He just stared at the naked lifeless woman laying there in his bed. Her throat had been sliced from ear to ear. The sheets were soaked in her blood. Finally a coherent thought floated into Arthur's mind. Even with this awful discovery, Arthur found himself admiring her body. She would have been a hot woman alive. Very much Arthur's type.

With that thought, Arthur reached for his phone and dialed 911. He couldn't remember what he did last night, but Arthur was pretty sure it wasn't this. 

Jazzing life away

The thunder punctuated the deep beat of the drum, creating an off-tempo effect. It fitted the place, and the night. It was an ominous night, full of evil tidings; but it was a night he had no choice being out in. He had to work, because working meant food on the table and a roof to sleep under. Working meant keeping out of weather like this, staying warm and dry. Unless you had a job like his, then it never seemed to matter. "Such was life. C'est la vie." was his motto. Life had never been good to him anyway. You just made the best of things that you could.

The smoke was thick in the bar tonight, the jazz band crooning out a slow soft melody. The thunder had quieted down, but the sky still lit up with lightning flashes. He peered down at the drink in his hand. The scotch wasn't aged enough for his tastes, but as he was working he probably wouldn't drink it anyway. He peered through the smoke out of the open door. Now that the rain had ceased, the door had been propped open to allow the air to circulate some. It didn't really do anything except allow the sound to escape, the sound of a good time to lure new patrons into this dim lair. "A futile effort," he thought, "there isn't any tourists in this neighborhood. Nothing but drunks and low-lifes. And me." He chuckled at the thought that he was any different than the drunks or low-lifes.

"And now to work." he muttered. He had finally seen his assignment walk by. He had to tell this guy to wherever he went. That was what the client was paying for. Just a simple case of surveillance. Except nothing was simple about this assignment. The guy followed one of three routes. The only problem was he switched them at will. You couldn't simply walk behind the guy and not give away suspicions, one had to be a bit more careful. The best way was multiple tails, both following and leading. But the way this guy switched routes made it nearly impossible to stay ahead of him. They always lost him on the other side of Canal Street. He was exceptional about losing a tail in foot traffic.

So to get ahead of the assignment, Arthur made a gamble. No tails, and just hope he would pass by. Arthur had been sitting in this smoke filled bar for over an hour watching it rain, and nursing the scotch. Now was the time for action. Gathering up his bag, Arthur stumbled out the door, just another drunk headed home. He blended into the crowd, easily following the assignment. A block or two, and the assignment made a quick cut into a hotel lobby. "So that's how he is doing it." Arthur nodded. The assignment was ducking through one door, and then out on the other side, but a block away. His team wasn't quick enough to keep up with him, and by the time they realize he was gone, it was too late.

Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to follow the assignment this way, so he hurried to the corner, rounding it just in time to see the assignment's back walking away. "Perfect," Arthur thought, smiling to himself. He was just far enough behind the assignment to not be seen as a threat, but close enough to be able to watch him. The man strode through the French Quarter without a care. Now that he thought he had lost his tail, he wasn't quite as difficult to follow. A few more blocks and he turned towards the river.

"Shit!" Arthur exclaimed, shabbling into run. He had to turn the corner before the assignment vanished. There were too many alleyways ahead for him to disappear into. Puffing from the exertion, he wasn't used to running, he turned the corner to spy the assignment's body disappearing down a dark alley, just as Arthur had feared. Trotting with a stitch in his side, Arthur approached the alley as quickly as he could. Slowing at his final approach, Arthur found himself staring into deep darkness with only the other end illuminated in the street lamps. Arthur didn't really want to go down this alley, but he knew he had no other choice. The assignment couldn't be seen from Arthur's end, so either he was hiding in the alleyway, or there was a door somewhere.

Checking the holster holding his pistol, Arthur trepidaciously entered the alley. This wasn't his idea of a good night at work. "But at least it's not raining anymore," he thought. Just then lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating the alley for all to see. That's when Arthur saw the men. He had all of a split second to react as they came charging at him. The lightning passed and everything plunged into darkness.

A passerby would only have heard the cracks and smacks of fist on skin. Lightning flashed again to show Arthur crouched over the men, unconscious now. He had learned quite a few things street fighting. But now, his investigator skills were kicking in, and instead of relishing the victory, Arthur was rapidly searching the men for weapons, wallets, cash. Valuables quickly recovered, Arthur scanned both entrances to the alley. No one had seen anything, there was no screams, no cries for help. It was as if nothing had happened. Arthur smiled, that was just the way he liked it.

Pulling zipcords from his pockets, Arthur quickly immobilized the men and pushed them out of the way. As the lightning flashed again, this time punctuated with close thunder, Arthur saw the door. It was disguised well, he might have missed it in the daylight as well. But just the slightest crack of light shone out from under it tonight. Checking his pistol once again, Arthur debated going in. He was only supposed to tail the assignment here. Nothing more. But the two men attacking him made Arthur wonder if he should let it go at that. The investigator in him felt that there was more to be learned by going inside.

The rain starting to fall made up Arthur's mind. He hated getting wet. So, throwing caution aside, Arthur slowly opened the door and stepped in.

Journeys

He paused in the shade of the tree. It was a scorching hot day. The kind where the sun evaporates the sweat as soon as it forms. The shade was a nice respite. Looking around, he spied a little stream making it's merry way a short distance off under the canopy of the forest. It seemed the idea place to take a break. His stomach rumbled it's agreement, and sealed the deal. He would stop and eat.

As he sat his pack down, he looked around. The shade prevented a lot of undergrowth from growing, but not everything. Small pockets of ferns dotted the area, and thick, mossy grass lined the edges of the stream. It was a clear stream, and seemed to be of good enough quality, he bent down to take a drink. The water was cool to the tongue, and quite nice on such a hot day. He settled himself against the tree, and removed his boots. It seemed a good idea to air out his feet while he had a chance. Sweating in boots was just as bad as walking through water. Sweat could soak socks just as quickly. Wet socks brought blisters, and blisters would hinder his progress.

Pulling his meager lunch from his pack, he leaned against the tree behind him and thought about his progress, where he was going and why. Life hadn't always been like this for him. Once he had everything that anyone could have wanted. A great job, a beautiful wife, an inquisitive son, all things he could have ever wanted. His life was one of happiness and fulfillment.

But it all ended in a flash of light. Literally. A flash of solar light. That was all it took to end the world.

He looked around, examining his surroundings. He hadn't seen many people since that day, but the ones he had seen made him very, very wary. Not seeing anything amiss, he settled back down. The end of world hadn't been anything like anyone thought. There was no big nuclear explosion, no nuclear fallout. No country to dominate the world, no USA, no China. There was no world-wide catastrophe, just plain human laziness and greed. We never thought about what the sun could do to us. We were more worried with fighting amongst ourselves. The solar wave destroyed all satellites, all means of communication, all sources of electricity. If it was connected by a wire, it exploded. The fires raced through cities that had no way of fighting them. People were stuck in buildings with no means of escape. Cars lost control and crashed into one another. It was mass chaos.

As he had traveled, he learned that even small towns were affected. Not just cities. With no power, no way to keeping food fresh, people started starving, and fighting for what food was left. The desperate ones sort of lost their humanity. They would attack the weak and old to survive. Those who had weapons fought as long as they could, but there are only so many bullets in a gun, and too many people who want what you have sometimes. He thought about how lucky he had been. Having grown up in small town USA, he knew how to survive of the land. And he had no trouble walking. When it all happened, he had been traveling home to parents on his way to see her. It was going to be the weekend he proposed to her, and asked her to come back to the city with him. They were supposed to be going camping. He had all the gear loaded. As the fires raged, and people started panicking, he just grabbed his gear and headed out.

Weeks later, he found himself here. He had yet to fire his pistol in his own defense, but there were several close calls. It hadn't taken him long to realize that major thoroughfares were not the place a person traveling wanted to be. Desperate people will try anything. He had followed the interstate at first, thinking that it's straight route would get him there quicker. And at first it had. Then he had come upon the scene of a brutal gang-rape. Her screams could be heard for nearly a mile. He had slipped into the woods beside the interstate, not wanting to be involved, not knowing how many were involved. He saw a group of men, horses nearby, doing unspeakable things to a family. The only merciful thing they did was shoot the father before he saw too much. He knew the women would soon wish for the same fate, a fate they wouldn't have. Not wanting to be caught by people such as this, he moved on as stealthily as he could. It hurt him that he didn't do more to help the people, but his own survival was paramount to him at this point. There was nothing he could have done for them that didn't involve him dying.

Soon after that, he switched to smaller highways, then to less populated back roads. The highways kept bringing him to towns and villages where marauders kept bases. After finding a treasure trove of food at an empty home, he avoided these vague memories of civilization, preferring the solitude of the back road. He slept way of the road at night, usually as close to running water as possible. Fires were small and quickly put out to avoid detection. He suffered bites and stings from pests until he found some bushes that kept them away. He kept as many of leaves as he could and would rub them on himself from time to time to keep the scent fresh. He was sure he didn't smell that great, but then no one was around to complain either.

Navigating with an old map, and a compass, he had traversed most of the way to his parents home. What usually only took him two hours had taken nearly two months. And to reach her, he still had months more to go. He only hoped that he could gain a horse at his parents. They raised cattle, and God-willing, would be in a position to help him.He just had one last obstacle to tackle, then he could finish out the last ten miles before dark. But that obstacle wasn't a little one.

A group of bandits had set up a toll bridge on what was once the bridge spanning a large creek. He knew he could get around them, he had waded many creeks, and swam one river, but they had obviously had that problem before, as they were patrolling the river in boats. He had watched them for a while, observing the situation, plotting out his course. Charging over was out of the question, he didn't have enough bullets or a way to get away other than run. Swimming across here would be perilous, but he knew a place upriver where they had once swam. If he could avoid them, he could travel far enough upriver that he might be able to avoid them all together. But to get anywhere in that direction, he would have to cross an open field. One that they were guarding. The bandits had thought this situation out quite well.

And so he sat in the shade and ate his lunch pondering. So close and yet so far away.

(to be continued...)

Waves of the unconscious

The wind was picking up. He had just sat down to eat his stew. It was going to be a rough night, and he wanted all the energy he could muster.
He had been watching the weather roll in all afternoon. It was going to be stormy very soon. The lightning was popping above his head now, the thunder getting closer.
His course was to sail over the open water between the two points of the gulf. It was the straight line approach. It would give him good wind currents that he could use to keep the sailboat on track. It was to be his first solo ride on his new boat. He had sailed it before with his mates, but never solo.
And then the storm had to blow in. He had altered his course to bring him closer to shore, but the area was known for craggy cliffs and jutting rocks tha t in low tide or high surf could tears holes in the hull of a boat. Not an idea that appealed to him. So he kept the safe tack, keeping plenty of room between him and certain death.
The thunder vibrated the boat shaking everything. He made a quick trip around the outside of the boat, checking to make sure everything was tied down and secured. He had dropped his dredging anchor and was hoping for the best. At this point, it was really all he could do. The straighline winds could be severe enough to rip a mast off the boat, or capsize it, if he was trying to sail in the storm. The winds could rip a sail right off. The only thing to do was batten down the hatches and ride out the storm.
Satisfied that everything was taken care of, he gave the storm one last hard look and then gazed around. He still couldn't see the lighthouse at the point. He felt that this was probably a good thing. It meant he was still far enough out not to have to worry about the rocks yet. Nodding his head, he went in and fastened the door behind himself. It was time to hunker down and try to relax. The sway of the waves wasn't that bad yet, the small(ish) sailboat didn't rock much in the waves, it tended to move well with them. But he knew it would get worse before it was over.
Turning on the four monitors above the couch, he checked his position on the gps monitor and then glanced at the security camera he had installed. The weather screen showed the edge of the storm sweeping down upon him. The last screen showed him the vitals on his boat - electricity, ships engines, water, etc.
As he sat down, silently preparing himself for the ordeal to come, he found himself missing her. She would have never come aboard this small of a boat, her sea-sickness wouldn't allow for that. But she would have loved the snugness of the cabin. It's intimacy and coziness made one feel safe even with the storm raging outside. It wasn't large, but it was spacious enough for him.
He found it odd that he thought of her so much lately. It had been years since he had last seen her, longer since they had last spoken, and even longer since he held her in his embrace, two as one. But at the strangest of times she filled his thoughts. His only regret in life had to let her go so easily, to not have fought harder. Would she have still left? Of that, no one would ever know. Yet, the thought of her plagued him. A ghost to forever haunt him.
"How Ironic," he thought. He had spent much of his adult life being a ghost, someone seen only fleetingly and with very few certainties that he was ever actually really there.
The thunder snapped overhead, bringing him back to reality. He looked to the outside screen, the rain was making blurs of everything. But he wouldn't have seen much anyway, since it was night out. He checked the weather screen, his little sailboat was in the thick of it now. All one could do was to hold on tight. And of course he thought of her. He knew that he would never forget her. Even though their time together had been brief, relatively, it had left such a lasting impression on him. He looked out one of the portholes, and could see the lightning snapping. He could hear the rain beating down on the deck. He desperately wanted to check his boat, but it simply was too dangerous. The boat was grounded, but he wouldn't be if he stepped outside right now. So he just sat there trying to relax. For now, he had done what he could.

(to be continued)

The simple things

As the headlights came closer, he crouched lower into the bush. The fog was rising, but it wasn't thick yet, just whispy tendrils that floated mindlessly through the air. He wished he could gather some of the fog up and wear it as a cloak.
As the headlights came closer, the vehicle slowed down. Without warning, a spotlight flashed on and started slowly sweeping the sides of the road. He knew they were looking for him, but he wasn't going back this time. They couldn't catch, and even if they did, they couldn't make him. He was free. Finally, at long last.
While he waited for the car to move past, he thought about how he had come to be at this junction. He would have never imagined that one day he would hiding from the law in bushes as his only chance for freedom. The escape had been dictated by actions beyond his control.
Her letters had come regularly as clockwork, it was what kept him sane, gave him the strength to make it through the day, day after day. She was all he had, all he thought of, she was the only thing keeping him alive. But recently, the letters had become distressed, and he could tell she was no longer herself. He could tell that she was being coerced. He had to go help her.
So he devised a plan, it was quite a clever plan. And it worked even better than he had imagined. Which is why he was here, hiding. "So close now, so very close," he mummered to himself. The car was past now, it's spotlight sweeping wide arcs on either side of the road, its engine's noise slowly fading. He had escaped notice.
She was so close now. Just a few blocks from here. Thinking about home, he found himself staring into his own house, through the back window. He wasn't sure how he got here, he couldn't remember moving, but here he was. Watching intently, he peered in, trying to access the situation.
He could see her sitting at the table, it seemed she was sitting unbound, but he wasn't sure. He could see her mouth moving, he knew someone else must be in the room. As if to confirm his deductions, a shadow moved between her and the window. He could hear a man's voice echo faintly. He waited, patiently listening. After a few minutes of not hearing another voice, he assumed they were alone. Now was his time. Now was the moment he had been waiting for.
With the speed of a gazelle, he kicked open the door and sprang inside. The man spun and tried to block his passage into the kitchen where she was staring dumbfounded. A quick feint to the left and he knocked the man out with his lightning fast right hook. As the man crumpled to the floor, he stepped over him into the room.
She looked up at him in terror, he was the last person she expected to see her. As if a light had been turned on, he could now see clearly. He realized that she wasn't being coerced, this was all her idea to begin with.
Looking at her with cold calculating eyes, he spoke with no emotion.

"So you want a divorce do you? What happened to death do us part?"

As he stepped towards her, she let out an ear-piercing scream of terror. Her last to ever be uttered.