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.

Moonlight through the leaves of the Willow tree

He knew he needed to get up, but he was so very tired. He knew that if he didn't move soon, he wouldn't be able to. Old age had caught up with him with a vengenance. But he was so tired, and just a few more minutes here, in this place, would be alright.
It was such a beautiful place. The willow had grown to a staggering height over the years, it's full arms draped down, providing a virtual green curtain to the world. Many a day he had sat in silence and wept for his loss. This was the only spot where no one else was ever around. He was able to escape here without any interruption. The moss always seemed to be grow thick and green, soft enough to provide a comfortable seat. Over the years, he had slowly worn an indention in the ground, providing a slight chair indention. Just a few feet away trickled a babbling brook. He would oftentimes launch a leaf ship down the stream just watching the currents sail it away.
It was an idealistic spot. But one created through tragedy. He planted it the day she had died. They had been a young couple, full of hope and dreams. One fateful night, one tragic accident with a drunk driver, and suddenly he was all alone in the world. He planted the tree on the day he left.
People talked about him for years, wondering what had happened to him, where he had gone. He lost his mind for a time, and wandered the world. For forty years he wandered the earth as a mercenary, a soldier, spy, trader, business tycoon. Forty years of emptiness and regret. Forty years of a lonely existence. While he had met many different women over the years, none had ever been able to take her place. His heart loved only one person. Now and forever.
Finally, tired and weary, with no more mystery left in the world, no wars worth fighting, he came home. People no longer recognized him, no one remembered him; he was able to find the obscurity he sought. Forty years gone was a long time for a tree to grow. It took him a little while to find his old property, the land was still his, but growth had sprung up around it. Nothing looked the way it did when he left.
He spent months cleaning up the property by hand. Cutting down trees, clearing out underbrush, digging a new trench for the brook (now a stagnant pool of debris), it took him a long time, but he was proud of his work when he was done.
But now he was so tired. He wanted to rest just a minute more by the tree. He felt so close to her here. In this spot, so many years ago, he had asked her to be his bride. He could still her voice calling his name. It was a whisper on the breeze. The leaves would move with the sound of his name. She was calling him home.


The neighborhood never really knew who cleared the property. They assumed it was a park. Residents soon came freely to the area, enjoying the tranquility, the peace, and they always felt an overwhelming urge to keep the place pristine, cleaner than they found it.
But the real draw for everyone was the strange willow tree. It was magnificent, obviously old in age with spreading roots and voluminous leaves. But the reason everyone wanted to see the tree was the strange wooden statue that rested beside it. It seemed just a stump of an old tree at first. But if you looked closely, some believed they could make out a face. And that face was smiling from one ear to the other. 

Counsel of Voices

The momentary silence was welcome, a brief break in the onslaught of sound. And he just couldn't tune it out, the voices demanded his attention. Just about everyone was so vocal. All but John, most of the time. But when John did speak up, it was loud, immediate and demanded everyone's attention. John always got his way when he spoke.
Her words reverberated inside his skull. They were all stunned. Silenced in a way that no one had ever expected. He never expected her to turn on him in such a fashion. None of the voices had anything to say. The brief moment stretched further. She obviously was awaiting his answer. He had no idea what to say, he sat there like a deer in headlights, just waiting for the killing blow to follow.
John awoke in the silence with a fury. Before he knew what was going on, he had already left was halfway down the street. John, the fearful one, was in control, going who knew where. All the time muttering, "can't let them get close enough to hurt me..." over and over. John was always the one hurt, he took all the hurt, all the pain, and kept control of it. John was usually complacent to sit in the corner and absorb all the suffering. But occasionally, he seized control in a "flight-or-fight" mentality. And John was always ready to flee.
George raged in the background, he wanted to fight back, to strike back at her. To hurt her more than she hurt him. It was his self-preservation instinct honed to be battle-ready. He wanted to kill everyone and everything, before they could hurt him. George was a bit of a revenge-seeker.
Frederick tried to rationalize everything, to make sense of it all. He wanted reason and logic to rule. Especially considering the raw state of John's emotional outbursts. It left them all hurting and weak. Frederick knew that if he could find a way to offset the power of John's emotions, it would be the end of them all.

He grasped control from John and leaned against the wall. He simply couldn't allow anyone close, they always hurt him in the end. John cheered and George agreed. They finally had reached a unanimous agreement. Something they could all agree on.

Life wasn't so bad alone.

Droplets of Life

The steam swirled up in small clouds from the bottom of the shower. The water was steaming hot, so much so that it almost scalded. His skin was red. It felt so good, but it was unsustainable.

Turning the heat down slightly, he stepped fully into the cauldron of boiling water. There was nothing like the feel of hot water streaming down your naked body. He allowed himself to be enveloped by it, truly relaxing for the first time in days.

The water coursed through his hair, loosening the strands, freeing the water to stream down his face, dripping from his chin. The water droplets fell into the misty abyss below. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a high cliff, with nothing below. The water poured down upon him.

This wasn't the way he had wanted things to go. This wasn't the life he had envisioned. Everything was spinning out of control. A top ready to topple. He had no idea what came next, how he was to survive. Every step was blind.

The water still flowed. He could feel his concerns lessened, being eked away by the running water. So strange such a simple thing like a shower could make such a difference. He knew that things would be waiting for him once he stepped out. But for now this moment, he was safe.

The water felt so good, he closed his eyes, transporting himself to a world where everything was perfect. No worries, no hurt, no stress. With a sigh, he slumped for the floor. His eyes opened, blurrily taking in everything. He saw no blood, but couldn't breathe. It was the end. His body had given out, it could take no more.

And his last thoughts were, "At least I don't have to worry anymore."

The Mystic Order of the Sunshine Princesses

Based upon a true story.

"Blah". That was how she felt. The sights of the city in ruins made her weep silent tears. She was unaware of them streaming down her face. Her nose turned a little pink as it ran.
It was all just a little much. The places she had grown up in, the world she was knew was virtually gone. The people, the culture, vanished in an instant of Mother Nature’s destruction. It was almost unfathomable how they would carry on. It was an almost insurmountable task that lay before her people. The task of rebuilding.
The streets rolled by, one after another. Houses in some blocks were entirely gone, while in others seemingly untouched. Her mind had trouble understanding everything she saw. As they moved into more inhabitable areas, she started to see signs of life. People were returning to their homes, accessing the damage and starting to make repairs. Neighbors were helping others. She started to see signs of the spirit that ruled this great city.
The truck slowed to a stop outside of an eatery that was open. The line was out the door and almost to the corner. People were desperate for food, but content to wait their turn. It was the only way that people could survive. If you broke the line, disrupted the order of things, then chaos ruled, these were a proud people that had come together as a community to support each other. Violence would not be tolerated.
She lifted her head from the cool glass window of the truck. It was expected of her to go inside, talk to people. She was so disheartened by the sights she had seen, she just wanted to mull it all over in her mind. She didn’t want to speak to people. Everyone was saying the same things, telling tales of woes and despair followed by vows to rebuild and be ready for the next time. It was saddening and inspiring at the same time. But it was also a huge emotional drain; one that she simply couldn’t deal with right now.
Stepping from the truck, she told her friend, the driver that she wanted to take some air, and walk just a little. Nodding his understanding, he let her go about her ways. He needed to speak with people inside, planning meetings were underway. No one was going to bother her here. She would be safe.
Idly walking down the street, she turned at the cross street and just walked for a while. This neighborhood hadn’t been untouched, yet there didn’t seem to be a lot of disaster here. She saw people in their yards, cleaning up. She also saw the houses where no one was cleaning, where no one had come back to; where people might not ever come back to.
Making a short loop, she soon found herself coming back to the eatery. So much blight, it was hard to imagine ever being able to rebuild this desolation. She found herself shaking her head, wondering what she could do to help. You could see the high water marks on nearly every house she passed. It had flooded deep here. She thought of all the toxins and bacteria that now infested the soil. She could already see signs of plants dying from the toxicity. Such travesty, that.
She wiped the tears from her eyes as she came near the establishment. Now was not the time for tears. Now was the time for kind words and helpful attitudes. People wanted to see concern on her face, not misery. They wanted to see a smile, even if it was a sad smile; they still wanted to see that smile. It gave them hope.
Greeting people with kind words, she entered the establishment. Soon she found her way to her friend, as he stood talking with the owner. The place was utter chaos. The tables for eating were converted into a meeting room, where aid was dispensed. The walls were covered in maps depicting variety of things, from clean, running water to electricity, to health concerns to areas still being searched for remains. Phones rang, and there was a din of people talking rapidly, taking calls and placing them. It was a beehive of activity.
But this was only the dining area. The kitchen was in full service doing to-go’s only. The people were paying however they could. If they had money, they paid money. If they had materials such as tools (paint brushes, hammers, saws, etc) that they could part with, that was taken too. She even saw birdseed in a corner. Passing by the corner, she paused, “That is a lot of sunflower seeds,” she thought.
Standing there looking at the hundreds of pounds of sunflower seeds, she found herself thinking of the properties of sunflower seeds. The memory came of a classroom, where she was studying botany. The instructor was pontificating the benefits of the sunflower, telling the history and the properties. She remembered him saying then that the sunflower would draw toxins out of the soil.
With almost a staggering effect, it hit her. She knew what she could do to make the city better. She knew how she could help. With a purpose, she turned towards her friend, a step in her stride now. She approached, and greeted the owner. After a few minutes of listening to how things were going, she steered the conversation to the method of payment for the food.
“Yes,” the business owner said, “I am helping people however I can. I have to pay for the food, so I can’t just give it away, but I will take what people have. They bring money, or tools they don’t need – but we do, they bring food in the freezer that they can’t cook, and will go bad. We take whatever form of payment they offer. As long as we can reuse it.”
She smiled at the owner, and commended him on the job he was doing. There were just not enough people doing things like this. Then she asked about the birdseed in the corner. He laughed, and told her how this one guy just brought it by. He had it left over, no longer having a pet bird, and didn’t want it anymore. The guy thought it would come to good use.
Her friend was watching her intently; he knew that something was going on with her. She rarely showed this much interest in something unless it was important. She turned to the birdseed while the owner was speaking, and then turned back and looked him the eye. Smiling sweetly, she offered to take the seed off his hand. She said she knew where it could be used to great benefits. The owner acquiesced graciously, glad for it to be gone from his store.
Later, after the seed was loaded, and their bellies filled, they drove off. Her friend turned and looked at her. “What is it you plan to do with the seed?” he asked. She smiled, and told him to take the next right. A few minutes later, they pulled up before an empty lot. One of the most devastated areas of this neighborhood. Getting out, she walked back to the back of the truck and pulled out the seeds. With a quick twist she opened the bag and started tossing the seeds out into the vacant lot. He watched her for a moment, and then climbed out to help her.
She stopped him from tossing more seeds. “No.” she said softly, “we must spread this sunshine around the city. Soon, the people that left will be allowed to return. They must not come back to complete desolation. We must spread the seeds so that they come back to fields of gold.” He nodded. She always made sense in these matters.
The next few days were a blur. She enlisted the help of a few of her friends and they dubbed themselves “The Sunshine Princesses”. Every time it seemed that the Princesses were going to run out of seeds, more seeds always seem to make themselves available. They drove all over the city spreading their seeds.
Weeks later, seas of sunflowers started appearing. The officials were baffled by it. They attributed it people’s birdfeeders being strewn about during the storm. It was if there were oceans of gold flowers everywhere. She drove throughout the city. A smile beaming on her face; this was her doing. She had accomplished something no one would believe.