Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Wedding Photographs

            She looked across the room at the man who was to be hers. Handsome beyond his forty years; he had the body of a man twenty years his junior. Suzette loved him more than words could say, but she wasn’t sure if he felt the same. For three years they had courted; dining in the finest restaurants and seeing the finest plays. It did not take Suzette long to fall head over heels for this debonair man. Despite his rough around the edges quality, Suzette felt he was a good and sweet man.
Now it was their wedding day and Suzette felt the pressure piling up on her. Over time she had not come to know this man; whose appetite for women never diminished, and whose mood always seemed to swing. Yes, she loved him beyond words, with all of her heart, and most of her soul. She longed for him and for him to be hers, jealous of every look of want young women seemed to cast his way. The agonizing part was that he always seemed to respond with the same longing looks.
            Feeling defeated, yet excited to be marrying her love, Suzette thought about her relationship. The lack of love she felt from him; it was more the feeling of being used from her family’s money or title. Drowning in all these feelings, Suzette thought she might be making a mistake, but she still loved and wanted this man. All this flitted through her mind as the last wedding photograph was taken.


            Rosalin liked death. Dead people fascinated her beyond mortal reason. Her father was a mortician, and he often let Rosalin do the “Client’s” hair and makeup for the showings. She enjoyed trying to make these “sleepers” look like they were doing just that, sleeping. She used reds, browns, and even violets to bring back hints of life to their faces. It helped the loved ones with the delusions that the death may be just a dream, or even not real at all.
            One day as she was finishing on dear old Mrs. Bumkin, Rosalin noticed something green peeking out from the top of Mrs. Bumkin’s shirt. Rosalin leaned in closer to examine the object, pulling it out from under the shirt. She came back with an old jade necklace. She held the cold beads in her hands, and a feeling of ease washed over her body. Rosalin could not put the beads down. They were gleaming in the bright fluorescent lights of the examination room. All she could do was stare into the endless green swirls.
Suddenly, some sort of vortex; or that’s what Rosalin thought it might be; sucked her up and transported her to a place she did not recognize. Rosalin was facing the front door in the living room of some stranger’s home, but how she got there she did not know. She imagined it had something to do with the necklace and the swirling vortex. Rosalin stood still, as if her feet were nailed to the floor; she thought maybe if she didn’t move a muscle she’d be taken back home. As she anxiously examined the mysterious necklace, a small, elderly lady burst through the front door frantically. She looked Rosalin’s way with her large, frightened gray eyes, but she did not act as though she saw her.
“I’m so sorry ma’am. I don’t know how I got here or where I’m at so if you c…” but Rosalin was cut short by the outburst from the old woman.
“Trudy! Trudy are you here? Trudy where are you?” the woman screamed in a terrified voice. “I need your help. Something’s happening to me!”
Trudy did not reply to the woman’s frantic pleas for help.
“Ma’am, maybe I can help you. What’s the matter?” Rosalin asked the old woman.
The woman continued to ignore Rosalin, and let her eyes dart about the room as though Trudy was only hiding behind some drapes.
“It’s the beads, I know it is. The necklace is cursed; it’s evil.” The woman whispered to herself. She held up the necklace she had been clutching in her frail and veiny hands. Rosalin looked to the object the woman seemed to be whispering about. She realized it was the same necklace she had taken from Mrs. Bumkin.
“Hey, look! I have the same necklace,” Rosalin said as she stepped toward the woman.
As Rosalin moved forward to show the old woman, she tripped and stumbled over the edge of a rug. Instead of bumping into the woman, Rosalin fell right through her and landed on the floor with a dull thud. As she pulled herself back onto her feet, she realized what had just happened. She spun around and peered at the woman who had not been the least bit phased by this bizarre incident. Rosalin’s heart started to beat like a drum against her chest as fear welled up inside her body. Just as Rosalin began to question whether or not she herself was dead, the old woman fell to the floor and began to struggle. Rosalin stared in horror at the woman not knowing what to do. The lady began to gasp for air, kicking and grunting as she did so. With her left hand she tried to pull something invisible from her face, as though she was being suffocated, and in her right hand she clutched the jade beaded necklace that flailed wildly as she writhed on the floor.
As quickly as it had begun the old woman ceased all movement and lay deathly still. Her arms and legs relaxed as death peacefully washed over her. It was the first time Rosalin had ever cried over someone’s death. Seeing someone who had already been dead for days was nothing compared to watching someone die right before your eyes. Rosalin stared at the woman on the floor as tears streamed down her face and fell to the floor. A cat sauntered out from a back room and began to rub itself along the woman’s body. It stopped by her hand and licked the green beads grasped in the old woman’s stiffly curled fingers. Just then the front door opened and Rosalin could see the back of another old woman, who she presumed to be Trudy. Trudy hummed as she backed into the house with her arms full of groceries.
“Mr. Kittykins I’m home!” she called cheerily as she turned around.
The sight of the dead body on the floor did not seem to surprise her at all. She just looked at the woman and smiled faintly.
“Well Mr. Kittykins, I see Barbara has found the necklace I’ve been searching for. It was my mother’s you know. It was awful kind of her to bring it over.” She said as she sat the groceries down on the floor.
Trudy walked over to Barbara and plucked the necklace from her dead hand, and the patted the purring Mr. Kittykins on his head.
“I surely thought I’d lost this,” Trudy exclaimed while she clasped it around her neck.
Rosalin hadn’t bothered to look up from the dead woman’s body until now. She looked at Trudy’s face for the first time and gasped with horror. It was the old woman from back at the funeral home; the one Rosalin had taken the necklace from. Trudy walked over to Barbara’s legs and, with surprising strength for a woman her age, drug the body into the kitchen. Trudy wiped her hands together as she returned to the living room. Looking at Mr. Kittykins she said,
“The freezer will have to do until I can find a better place for Barbara.”
The cat replied with a meow.
Suddenly the necklace in Rosalin’s hand became ice cold. She looked down at it only to be sucked away to a new place by another vortex. This time she appeared to be in a child’s room; a small child’s room. She turned around and saw the small child peacefully asleep in his bed. The door behind her began to creep open, and a familiar woman that Rosalin couldn’t place, appeared around the edge. The woman tiptoed slowly into the room towards the sleeping boy. It was then that Rosalin noticed the pillow behind the woman’s back.
“NO!” Rosalin screamed, forgetting that no one could see or hear her.
The woman crept up to the child; he tuned over and looked into the woman’s eyes.
“Mommy?” the little boy said groggily.
“Yes honey, go back to sleep.”
“Ok. I love you Mommy.” He whispered sleepily.
“I love you too, Tommy. I love you so much.” She said, and then brought the pillow down forcefully onto the child’s face.
He began to struggle and kick his legs while grunting for air. The woman only forced the pillow down harder, screaming “It’s alright Tommy. I love you!”
The child’s arms flailed wildly and his hand caught the jade beaded necklace that was clasped around his mother’s neck. The necklace was torn away just before death came and relaxed the child. The mother removed the pillow from her child’s face and bent down to kiss his forehead.
“Goodnight Tommy. I love you.” She whispered into his hair.
Behind Rosalin, the bedroom door flew open the remainder of the way and a man dressed in boxers burst into the room.
“No Trudy! No!” he screamed.
“I thought you were tied to the bedpost, honey. You should go back to sleep now.” Trudy said sweetly to the man
“Oh, Trudy what did you do?” he sobbed as he fell to his knees. “My little boy,” he cried.
“I’m sorry Michael, but it had to be done. He was evil and I had to stop him. Someone had to stop him. He was naughty.” She explained as if Tommy was only in time out.
“How could you? How? He was our baby. Our little boy! My son.” Michael continued to sob.
“I see he poisoned your mind like so many others,” Trudy said coldly, “but he will never poison mine.”
She turned and reached under the pillow case and produced a hand gun. She pointed it toward Michael, who was helplessly sobbing on the floor.
            “I’m sorry Michael.”
Trudy began shooting Michael until there were no more bullets in the gun, and Michael was a heap of bloody flesh upon the floor.
“Goodnight boys. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Trudy turned and plucked the jade necklace from her dead son’s hand and left the room, closing the door tightly behind her.
The vortex again swallowed Rosalin, but this time it took her back to the funeral home. She collapsed to the floor, her shoulders heaving with sobs. After what seemed like hours of crying, Rosalin picked herself up off the floor and approached the woman on the table. It was the old woman, Trudy, who had been brought to the house a few days ago. Rosalin leaned over her body and hooked the necklace back onto Trudy’s neck. Rosalin felt relief knowing that in one half hour the hearse would be here to take Trudy to the graveyard where she would be buried with her son, her husband, and her jade necklace forever.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

I'll Still Be Alone

When the dusk turns into night.
When dawn slowly creeps into sight.
When the darkest hours of my life,
Cut into my heart like a dull knife.
I'll still be alone.

When the storms roll into view.
When my mind is all askew.
When I'm sinking into shadow,
And I think I'll never know.
I'll still be alone.

When the clock strikes my time.
When I can no longer rhyme.
When everything has disappeared,
Except the things I've always feared.
I'll still be alone.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

I Never Thought

   Funny how people make you feel. How they change the way you think. I never would have thought you'd be the weight to make me sink. You dragged me down into the black, we were destined for abyss. And all the while I never thought there was anything amiss. Everything I gave, you took, always wanting more. You drained away all my love, straight to my body's core. I watched you rip my insides out, but I didn't really care. I'd let you do whatever you wanted just as long as you'd still be there. Until the day you left me I never thought I'd cry so many tears. Every time I tried to smile it was nothing but a sneer. Now my body is completely empty, now my heart's so cold and black. I never thought I'd wish for death. Oh how I wanted to turn back.
   One day as I was watching you with my eyes devoid of soul, I saw you standing with her. I knew you had to pay the toll. I grabbed her by her hair as I stabbed you in your neck. I screamed into your dying face, "Maybe now you won't forget!" I never thought I could ever help the one who took my place. But I had to ease the troubled look she had upon her face. "Now listen to what I say and heed my words of advice. He took away your soul from you, and he stole away your life." She cried, "Don't send me to my grave! I know you can be saved!" I stared into her sad dull eyes as I took away her pain. As I watched her life dry up and begin to go dim, I whispered into her sweet hair, "I've finally saved you from him."

Friday, May 13, 2011


I'd forgotten how many stairs were here, and how lonely they make me feel. Deeply inhaling the air as I wander aimlessly. No specific destination in mind; just forward. I briefly stop to admire the art, but my journey's far from over. There's much to see and lots to do. There's no time to stop for long.

I don't remember why I came here, or for that matter, how. But I do know it's where I belong. One, two, three...the stairs only multiply. Looking ahead, it seems as though they go on forever. But I must keep moving.

In a darkened corridor sits a lonely looking couch. It appears to be comfortable, but I've been walking for what seems like days, so anything will do. I stop to take a rest; just a short one. But the couch is so comfortable and warm. It feels like home, if only I could remember where home was. My lids grow heavy as my mind grows foggy. It's as if the couch is whispering to me.
"Everything will be just fine."
"Stay a while."
"Tell me about yourself."

I begin to tell my story, but I quickly realize I don't remember what it is. Frantically I search my mind for memories I don't seem to possess. I no longer feel like sleeping. I have to keep going.

"Stay with me."
"Don't leave."
"I need you."

I'm afraid, but I feel pity for this lonely couch. I too am alone, and I know the despair it feels. I begin to relax again, when I remember that this is just a couch. It becomes hard and lumpy. I notice a spring peek through the cushoin. I must go. I can no longer stay.

"Don't go!"
"I need you!"

The yelling grows faint as I run toward the stairs. I must continue on. No more stops. They only prove to hinder my journey. I will not stop again. I know better than to make the same mistake twice. Walking and walking. All I do is walk, but I know that I'm going somewhere. I just don't know where. And I don't know why. But I know that when I arrive I will be welcomed.

So I keep climbing. Just a few more stairs.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

A Dream

I fell asleep with a tear in my eye and a beat in my heart.
Saw life pass me by on a horse drawn cart.
Not very quickly though; just enough
For me not to have time to pack all my stuff.
Left me standing there alone and in fear.
The silence so loud that I couldn't hear.
Clumsy and deaf, I tried to catch up.
Feeling half empty, as is my cup.
Everything in slow motion, and all I could see
Were all of the things I wanted to be
Leaving me standing alone by the road.
So I sat down crying, remembering the day
When I thought all these things would come my way.
Stranded by life and broken by time,
Is when I realized they'll never be mine.


broken glass shattered dreams
black lace and handkerchiefs silent screams
stinging wasps teeth that bite
darkness shadows and bats in flight
scratches bruises a bloody mess
sobbing weeping in a funeral dress
lost alone can't be found
worms dirt underground
whispers glances pats on your back
foggy blurry all is black
terror fear what's that noise
demons in hell and monsters' ploys
shaking sweating pounding cold
bargains payments buying what's sold
pleading begging paying the toll
He's come for what's due He's come for your soul