This is just a rough draft of a short story idea I’ve been thinking about.

Death’s Note

Everyone always believes that the most important moment of a person’s life is the beginning. It’s the moment of entry into the world, the birth of a new life. Well I am the taker of life and I can tell you from personal experience that in fact it is actually the end of a person’s life that is the most important. It’s always at the end that people remember life the most. People live their wholes lives without ever getting noticed, but steal the last breath from them and suddenly the world cares. People cry as if the dead can still hear you. They bring you flowers as if your eyes can still enjoy their beauty. They sing songs and tell tales of your life as if your ears can still hear them. People say more things after you’re dead than they ever dared to when you were alive.

This however, is not a lecture on the emptiness of the human race to appreciate what they have while they have it. No, this is a note about me for a lucky living soul to find that they may have a little piece of mind when their time comes. I am the bringer of death, the taker of souls, the light stealer, the grim reaper. I have been called many names yet all of them have failed miserably to fully describe me.

I lurk in the corners, the dark spaces of the room, the last thoughts of the dying and sometimes the random thoughts of the surprised. I am rarely noticed but on some occasions, from those who have seen me often, I can be spotted. People try to avoid me though. They don’t want to find me and so it makes my job of going unnoticed a whole lot easier.

But I don’t like what I do. I know what you must be thinking. I am death, therefore I must be evil. But if I had a soul it wouldn’t be an evil one. The loss of life is not an easy business. See, whenever I choose to collect a soul and yes I choose to, I don’t just absorb their light, I take on their pain as well. Every ache, every piercing, throbbing pain goes straight through me like a freight train. Every empty heartache courses through me and fills every corner of my being. For that moment I am consumed by the pain, the fear, the very human essence of that life that I both crave and dread at the same time.

My job is not all pain though, for I get to witness the brightest moment of a human’s life. After that I can’t stand the stupidity of the race to suddenly worship what they never cared about before. I leave that mess for them to clean up. It is in the last moments however, the ones right before I reach in and collect my soul that a person explodes with the most powerful of human emotions. Before the pain and fear sails through me, I experience the memoires. People often try to remember as many happy moments before they die as quickly as they can and so these are the first that I receive. That is until the sinking realization of my presence sets in and they’re jolted from their happy thoughts as if they have been woken from a dream. It never lasts too long, this stream of happy moments, but it’s long enough to encourage me that my job is worth it. I must continue collecting souls and passing them along to a path that will lead them to their earned paradise.

I have no knowledge of their destination once I release them on this path. I have heard that the road varies for every soul depending on their life’s work, but of this I have no care because I have no need to ever meet their soul again.

This is but a snippet of the story of me. But I’m afraid my whole story would take more than a human lifetime to tell. With this note I hoped to give you but a glance at the true nature of death. Maybe now that you know a part of the journey I undertake when collecting a soul, you will look upon me when the day comes not with fear, rage and disappointment, but rather a little bit of acceptance, knowing I am not evil. I am but a collector.

Concentration Camp

This was a prompt my Curriculum and Instruction teacher gave me this semester to do a journal writing on and I found it really interesting so I thought I would share it with you all.

Dear Teacher,

I am a survivor of a concentration camp. My eyes saw what no man should witness:

Gas chambers built by learned engineers.

Children poisoned by educated physicians.

Infants killed by trained nurses.

Women and babies shot and burned by high school and college graduates.

So I am suspicious of education. My request is: Help your students become human. Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths, educated Eichmanns.

MY goals 4 SuMmEr 2011

#1: Learn the entire footloose dance from the very end of the movie.

#2: Learn and be able to fluently (or maybe almost fluently) speak Spanish.

#3: Teach my two little nieces the alphabet.

What are your goals for the summer?!?!

What's Your Biggest Fear?

I think we all think about the future too much sometimes. So much sometimes that it hinders the present that we live in now. It takes away from the moments of the day we're supposed to be enjoying at this very point in time. I know I do this a lot. I worry about a year from now, two years, five years and I end up wasting today. In fact, I think I've been doing that all semester long. See, like every other person I have a picture for my life, I have a dream that I want my life to make come true. And I'm terrified that I'll never fulfill that dream. That it'll be a few years down the road and I will have missed my chance. But I think the thing is, that all our lives have more than one dream. We all think that we'll only ever going to be happy this one way, but in all honesty, I think there are many ways, many paths we can take that will still end up with us being happy. Maybe it wasn't the most ideal one, maybe it wasn't the perfect dream, but who ever has perfect in their lives anyway? So, I know for me, conquering my biggest fear in the whole world is to realize that my life has more than one possible happy ending, more than one possible dream. I can be fulfilled and not have the exact ending I've always hoped for. It's a scary thought to me and its darkened a lot of my days these past couple months. But I think I've finally found a way to start overcoming it. I know I don't fully believe in my new found theory yet, but I'm doing my best to hold onto it so that I can start enjoying today! And stop wasting away my precious moments worrying about a year from now, or two years from now. Today is what you make, be the decider of your life. If you want a good day... nothing and no one is in control of that but you... make it a good day.

Quotes of Interest

These are some quotes I find really intriguing, enjoy them!

‎"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime." -Ernest Hemingway

“Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of its trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse for impossibility, for it thinks all things are lawful for itself and all things are possible.” -Thomas A. Kempis

"Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear." – John Lennon

‎"Modern cynics and skeptics... see no harm in paying those to whom they entrust the minds of their children a smaller wage than is paid to those to whom they entrust the care of their plumbing." -John F. Kennedy

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
- Captain Corelli's Mandolin6. "Love is the beauty of the soul."
- St. Augustine

"Happiness is like a kiss - it feels best when you give it to someone else." ~Author Unknown

"Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loathe to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met.
Keep them not in waiting yet;
Kisses kept are wasted."
~Edmund Vance Cooke

"Guys are like stars - so many to pick from
but only one can make all your dreams
come true!" - Lindy Strahan

Daughters by John Mayer

I absolutely love this song and lyrics to it are so true and inspiring and eye opening. I think everyone should take a look at it!

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls are continually changed
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now I'm left
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without the warmth from
A womans good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the guide and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

What Do I Want To Be A Teacher?

On the first day of class we went around the room and told why we wanted to be a teacher. Whenever anyone asks me that question I immediately know the answer. I want to change the world. It’s that simple, or is it? After I say it I always feel sort of silly. How am I going to change the world by being an elementary school teacher? What can I really do and why do I think being a teacher will help me do it?

Well I always thought my passion for teaching came from my love of kids and my lack of ability to be good at any other job. But now, the further along I get in my ‘becoming a teacher’ process, I realize to be a true teacher, my inspiration has to come from something more than that. So I started digging deeper. I started asking myself what would make me happy for the rest of my life? What would I be proud to tell others I do? I realized I’ve always had this silly idea that if I’m not actively helping someone else then I’m not happy with myself. I only get this one life and I have to make it worth remembering.

So it may be silly and kind of childish, but my dream is to change the world. And I believe all change starts with knowledge. I’ve been told many times of the dangers of this degree. My sister asks me all the time why I’d want to be a poor school teacher will little respect for the rest of my life. My dad continually tells me I’m too smart to be a teacher. Can’t I see that although it’s a noble job, it’s also a worrisome one? He’s constantly afraid my life will always be a struggle if I become a teacher.

So I tell them what I know. I tell them that I think being a teacher is a job I could be proud of. I know it’s not the most fruitful job as far as perks and fancy things come, but I just couldn’t stand myself if I received a paycheck at the end of every month and didn’t earn it by helping another person. And I don’t want my life to be about money. I want it to be about what I can do for others. I want my life to be a contribution. I want people to know me for the things I made possible, for the positive changes I created in someone else’s life. Being a teacher gives me the opportunity to be this kind of person. Maybe one day I say the littlest thing to a child and later on when they’re fifty, that thing helps them overcome a great obstacle. Maybe one day I educate a future congress man/woman who later votes on a bill that impacts the world. Maybe one day I look at a child or listen to a child that has never been looked at or listened to and it saves their life. I know these are big outrageous ideas, but I think being a teacher is about all the possibilities. It has so many opportunities for amazing things to happen. Sure I’ll never be at the top of the food chain as far as dollar bills go, but I’ll be at the top as far as changing the world goes, and that I can live with.

Today I Realized

Today I stood behind a wooden table scattered with food. There were vegetables, fruits, breads, all the main sorts of food a person would need. I stood there with a smile wide across my face as I stared into the drawn, heavy laden eyes of the people on the other side of the table. Their faces were as worn as their clothing. I could see their hearts buttoned on their sleeves, their troubles, their worries right there, written on their very skin.

Shyly, one by one they walked through the line on the other side of table, a whole other side of life for me, and picked out what little food they thought they would need for the week. I tried my best to put as much love as I could into my silly greeting words and childish smile as I offered them any selection of bread they dared take home. I couldn’t help but picture an entire movie reel laid out for each being that passed by me. I wondered what their life must have been like. I wondered why their bones seemed so heavy and their shoulders so weighed down. I wondered how they’d gotten here. What had their choices been? Had they any choices to begin with?

I’d always thought, before today that every man and every woman could make possible any life for themselves. Then I realized, you could be the best at everything and still lose in life. You can have everything you want and still be envious in life. You can collect as many maps as you want and study every known path and still end up lost in life. I realized, looking at all these delicate souls passing me by on the receiving side of the food bank, that maybe they had done it. Maybe they’d done it all. And maybe life had just spat back in their faces and that’s why they were here today. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t their fault.

It was a thought that had never crossed my mind before today; that the poor, unfortunate life of the sad soul living it was not at fault. As I politely greeted and escorted the people on, deep in my soul I cried slow, soft tears for each one. And as I watched their feeble lips bless me and thank me, I thought to myself, what would I do if one morning I woke up and had to wonder whether I was going to be able eat today or if I’d go hungry.

Isn't He Everything?

I see it written on his face,

He tries to stop,

Tries to flee from the scene.

But no matter how hard,

He still always draws the wrong card.

He wants... more than anything,

To be everything.

And to me, he is...

But he won't let that be enough,

He wants to believe he's just too tough,

To rough,

To let some silly word restrain him,

Disdain him.

Jump to Defeat

My toes are frozen as they lie on the silver metal railing to the edge of the building. There is a light breeze tonight and it tosses my hair back and forth around my shoulders. My fingertips are laced around the top rung of the side fence and I can feel the nicks and dings all along the metal. I try as hard as I can to smooth them out, but no amount of tender love and care can fix them now. They’re permanent, like the scars on my own heart.

I lift my right foot off the cold metal and wiggle my toes back and forth before lifting them to the first bar on the flimsy fence and place them firmly there. I close my eyes and lift my left foot up to match my right. I can feel the air on my skin and I shiver as goose bumps travel down my arms and around my spine. My hands grip the top bar tightly. I have no doubts about what I’m about to do, it’s mainly just out of the reflexes I’ve built to protect myself.

I open my eyes and scan the scene before me. Bright lights shine all around me from the city below. I can see the tiny little cars racing through the streets and the even smaller people going about their own business this evening. No one notices me. Why should they? I’ve been on this roof my whole life. I’ve been on the edge, on the verge of jumping since before I can even remember now and no one has ever noticed before. So why should they now? Well, because this time, I’m actually going to jump.

I lift my legs over the barred fence and slid my bottom onto the top and let my legs dangle before me. It’s cold, the metal against my jeans. But I don’t mind. I like the sensation of feeling something, anything. It’s what I’ve been missing my whole life. I’ve felt like a ghost, a walking zombie, a mannequin just going through the motions. Smile when I’m expected to smile, laugh when I’m expected to laugh and sympathize when I’m expected to. I guess I have only myself to blame, I never asked anyone to explain and of course no one ever willing offers to teach. So I thought life was like what I’d read in story books and seen in big screen movie films. I was expecting my happy ending to come. Well tonight I’m tired of paying my dues, I’m going to make my happy ending on my own.

Cold, salty tears fall from my eyes and slid down my rosy cheeks. I never wanted it to be like this but I feel I have no other options. I’m out of free-bees and advance pass go’s. I look down to make sure there are no other unlucky souls below me that I might take with me. There are none, so I close my eyes and breathe as deeply as my lungs will allow me. I feel the fresh air glide through my nostrils and release it out through my delicate lips. I stand up, feet clinging to the bottom railing of the fence, hands gripped to the top behind me and lean out in front, over the ledge. I let a sorrowful tear fall from my broken face and hit the ground, then another. I unlace my fingers and let my heavy heart fall as fast as it pleases.

I keep my eyes shut on the way down so that I may dream of all the wonderful things I used to know in this life. I think of the daisies that used to cover the fields in my backyard as a child. I think of the soft fur of the strong horse I used to call my only love. I think of the fallen leaves I used to jump into and enjoy laughing until my eyes cried tears of joy. I think of the faces I used to kiss “I love you” to before I left for college. Just before my body hits the hard pavement ground, I think of nothing but the sunrise and the brilliant colors it used to share with me. Then everything goes black as night with no stars and no moon out to keep me company.

Then like a ghost, I’m floating over my own body, lifeless, broken and covered in rose red blood.

Nightmare

Riley stretched her limbs high above her head as she stood in the parking lot. She felt her hair fall on her shoulders and settle behind her as she looked to the sky. The bright sun was high overhead beaming down warm sunrays and the black asphalt below her feet was radiating with heat. It combined to make the day a very hot one. As she turned to her left and began her trek southward, her sea green eyes caught the sight of a barely there black cat sleeking behind a rusty blue dumpster. Not giving it a second look or even a thoughtful care, she let her legs carry her wherever they wanted to go.

Riley walked on and on, along the sidewalk of a two-lane road. Unaware of her destination and oblivious to the overly warm temperature surrounding her. She marched on, mindlessly going through the motions. She knew in her head she had to make it somewhere, but suddenly she no longer knew how to get there or where “there” was. As her legs methodically moved her onward down the never ending road, she became increasingly aware of the fact that she couldn’t remember where she had just been. Yet she didn’t have the energy to care about that either. Inside the core of being however, she felt a rapid and strong desire for the need to get on a bus. The same something inside the core of her told her it would take her where she was meant to be. The longer Riley walked the stronger the desire became to get on bus number 87. Over and over again she racked her brain, searching for the origin of her need to ride this specific bus. When she found none, she concluded it was just natural instinct and her feet finding their way.

Her soft careless eyes gazed behind her to investigate the coming sounds of a fast traveling bus. As the speed of the bus increased she knew then she would not make the bus stop in time and would have to catch it when it came around a second time. However, her gaze was glued to the bus as it came barreling down the road. What she saw next did not even startle her like it should have, which confused her very much. As the bus made its way down the lane she swore to herself that she saw body after body tumbling under the sides of the bus. People were being pushed from the open doors of the bus and thrown to the curb then dragged beneath it. But there were no screams or sounds from the people at all. The only thing Riley heard was the loud roar of the bus’ engine as it came racing toward her. She also noticed once the people had been run over by the bus they ceased to exist. Although her view of behind the bus wasn’t perfect she still never saw any bodies lying on road. It was as if someone were playing tricks on her. She shook her head from side to side and tried to push the image of what she was seeing from her mind but remained. Although any sensible person would have burst into a panic frenzy, Riley stayed calm, as if in her heart she knew this extremely hideous sight was just another everyday scene.

Riley gazed at the sight of it all with amazement but remained calm and slightly unconcerned, telling herself this sort of thing happened all the time. That’s why no one else was panicking. Yet in the back of her mind she knew it was still oddly strange. As the bus continued heading her way she felt a little uneasy in her stomach. She slid further from the road side of the sidewalk and walked a few paces faster. Riley feared the bus would take her under like the rest of the bodies it threw about but knew in her heart she wouldn’t be harmed. Something was off about this day and the idea that this scene was mysteriously somewhat normal made things all the more unbelievable. Riley knew one thing for sure, she needed to get on bus number 87, at least that’s what she thought at the moment.

Out of nowhere, Riley was suddenly at the bus stop with a gentleman beside her. The bus came sliding on down the lane and Riley, after being so certain she must get on bus number 87 was abruptly convinced she mustn’t get any bus at all. And then Riley was walking beside the gentleman, now pushing an old fashioned baby stroller down the sidewalk. It was as if her memory had failed her. She felt like a ghost in a world passing her by. She zombied on, walking beside the man. It never occurred to her to ask his name or to ask why he was pushing such an old fashioned stroller. The only thing she knew was how persuasive he had been in directing her to walk to her destination instead of getting on the death bus as he had called it.

Time passed as if it didn’t exist, but Riley felt her journey slowly coming to an end. Looking around her she realized the scene of the road she had been walking beside never changed. There was just one long road that seemed never ending until something odd popped in her head. Before she knew it there was an intersecting twirl of concrete bridges in front of her. The gentleman silently walked beside her as they traveled under the bridges. Riley looked to her right, bored and tired of her never ending journey. She spotted a horse somehow trapped between the rings of the highway bridges. Although later it would not make sense how the horse could be trapped here, she let it her slip her mind for now. The sight of this horse here struck her as strange for only a moment. However, she was not nearly as surprised as she thought she should have been. Even though in her head she knew this was an odd sight, she felt as if on this day, nothing should surprise her anymore. So she turned her head back toward the silent man and continued walking to her unknown destination wondering what she would see next and where her feet would lead her.

Her breath veered from its normal rhythm and her body shook sharply as her eyes burst open. She took in a short intense breath of air, sat up in her bed and looked around the room, half expecting to see a horse to her right. But she didn’t. The only thing to her right was a window and the pitch black sight of nightfall beyond it. Riley evened her breathing and pulled her hand over her chest and to the place where her heart was to calm its erratic beating. She shook her head in annoyed disbelief and laid back down. Pulling the covers up around her shoulders she rolled onto her left side and slowly closed her eyes. She ran the nightmare over and over through her mind as she laid there. What does the bus barreling down a two lane highway trampling people over mean? What would a horse trapped in a mess of highway bridges mean? And a man pushing a stroller? None of it made any sense to her. It never made any sense to her.

Riley sighed and settled into her usual frustrated demeanor. Everything from the dream always felt so real and everything was always the same. Always the same barely there black cat, same bus number, always the same people falling beneath it, always the same man, the same horse, and the same unknown destination that she can never seem to reach. The dream always followed the same path and the people in it never veered from their lines. Not even Riley herself, she always felt the same way in the dream, like none of it was a surprise and like nothing really mattered. Riley was tired of this nightmare and tired of trying to figure out what it meant. So she let sleep once again consume her and she drifted off back into the dream world where she felt like nothing more than a ghost with unfinished business.

Fear Leads Us On

She kneeled on the floor, her bruised palms pressed against the carpet. Her sides were battered and beaten. Purple and bluish, black marks plagued her once pink skin. Tears rolled from her eyes onto her cheeks and then dripped to the floor. She had been here many times before. This place of pain and embarrassed stupor was a very familiar spot to her. She lifted her arms off the soft floor and let her back press against the coffee table, her legs bent beneath her. She sat in silence pondering her thoughts. He had slipped into the next room to wash his fists, leaving her alone in the den. Warm, red blood trickled from her bottom lip. She slowed her breathing in order to concentrate on what she knew needed to be done. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away to a more comfortable place. She flipped through the various choices she could make and weighed the two most prominent options.

The first was to get up, clean the mess her frightful husband had made, clean herself up and then make dinner for the two of them. The second option was to lift herself off the floor, cross the room and grab the gun in the desk drawer. She wanted so badly to just lie there and sleep her life away. She wished to take her last breath and slip into the unknown. However, she knew that was not an option and no matter how much she wished for her pain to subside, it would never leave her. Though this man beat the life out of her, she regrettable still adored him. Passion drove her heart to pound in her chest for him.

More tears flowed from her eyes and she let little gasps escape her blood stained lips. For the very first time since her husband began hurting her, she felt afraid. Not afraid of him and what he could and would do. She was terrifyingly afraid of herself. She was tired. Tired of being on the floor, tired of the bruises, tired of the screams, and most of all tired of the tears. This exhaustion is what made her fear herself more than anything and scared her into more tears and goose bumps which ran up and down her spine. She feared what this exhaustion would allow her to do. She feared what this state of being would ultimately make her capable of.

Opening her eyes she placed her delicate hand on the floor beside her. With what little energy she had left, she pushed herself to her feet. She knew what she had to do. She was terrified and the fear revealed itself on her beaten body. Frail and broken she crossed the room lightly and slowly. She slid the heavy wooden drawer open and stared into it. Her tears fell down onto the wooden desk. She slipped her petite hand into the drawer and reached until she found the item she was seeking. Grabbing it firmly, she pulled it into eye sight and let it weigh in her hands. The gun felt cold and rugged to her then gradually it became warm to the touch. She twisted around and leaned her back against the desk. She was now facing the room her husband had disappeared into.

As he reentered the den, she raised her arms and pointed the heavy gun at his chest. A smug, doubtful smile crossed his face, but she had, had enough. He walked slowly closer to her. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks as fear froze her body. She was no longer afraid of him. Instead, she let the rushing energy of her fear guide the gun that she held in her bruised hands. She was finally ready to see how tough this man really was. Getting a hold on herself, she squeezed the trigger and put three hard metal bullets in his chest.

Pure Bad Luck

She glanced over at the counter top as she sat on the toilet seat impatiently tapping her toes against the cool tiled floor. Several used pregnancy tests lay out on the counter top. She sighed as she stared at them all individually. It was only four minutes ago she had exercised their use. She left them on the counter top without peaking and then hopped into the steaming bathtub. Her body soaked in the calming soothes of the hot water and goosebumps covered her body as she was embraced with the warmth of it.

Still gazing at the counter top she began to cry. The fifty percent chance of the test being positive was finally weighing in on her and she felt the bricks pile onto her shoulders. Disgusted she turned her eyes away from the counter and closed them tightly. Her life started to stream through her mind as she lay soaking in the warm water.

It happened about a month ago. One moment she had the world at her fingertips and the next thing she knew it was swept away. Her completely horrible week, which on many occasions she would have been glad to never have again, was painfully late. She decided it was better to keep this a secret from her long-time lover until she knew for sure what she was dealing with.

Pulled from her memories, she opened her eyes and stared at the yellow towels hanging on the wall. “Damn” she thought to herself.

“If only I had remembered to take that stupid little red pill.”

She whispered the words as if they were dangers punching holes in her chest.

“I was in such a hurry. Make up… hair… perfume… why couldn’t I have just remembered the pill?!?”

She knew a baby was the very last thing she could deal with right now. Her applications were submitted to college universities and she was ready to start her own life. She lifted her hand to her forehead as she considered the possible situation. Checking the clock hung above her mirror she counted the time it had been since she used the first pregnancy test. It was two minutes past the estimated time it would take.

She sat up slightly in the bathtub and leaned over the edge towards the counter top. Holding her breath she reached for the test. Her finger tips grazed the side of it. She was just barely out of reach. Pulling herself upright slightly more she stretched for the counter again. As her fingers wrapped around the test she caught part of her new portable curling iron cord in her hold. Stressed out with the situation at hand, she was too concerned to realize what she was gripping and pulled them both closer to her anyway. Forgetfulness and pure busy lifestyle had given her the habit of leaving her hair beauty utensils to turn themselves off without her assistance. The iron was practically weightless in her hand as she studied the results of the test.

Her jaw fell open as she gazed upon her future. She freed the breath she had been holding tight her chest and allowed it to slip through her lips. Releasing her grip, she let the test fall to the tiled floor of her bathroom and onto the fuzzy yellow rug below. As the test fell so did the curling iron. It grazed the side of the bathtub as its weightless being fell from her fingertips. It hit the tub perfectly and the slick surface helped it slide right into the warm water that embraced her body. Electric currents surged through the cord and ran through the water like lightning.

Her body jolted as sparks emerged from the curling iron and spirally smoke sailed to the ceiling. The cord finally burst with bright flames then abruptly stopped altogether. Her body lay in the bathtub as still as the stars in the night sky; the used pregnancy test buried in the fuzzy yellow rug on the floor.

Melody of the Roses

His head lay on the unusually flat pillow. As he rolled to the side, he noticed how annoyed the sheets had started to make him. He guessed they must have been stitched together from bits of paper, for comfort was definitely not their expertise. His head ached. Pounding through his ears and around the base of his skull, he could feel and sense every detail of life with a stinging hurt. He tried to lift his right hand to caress his forehead but found the movement caused him so much pain he almost fainted from the effort.
So he lay still as he let his eyelids fall open. His memory failed him as he searched for an answer to where he was. The ceiling above his head was dirty and paneled with white holey pieces of material. He glanced to his left and saw a window which displayed a field of green trees beyond. Keeping his breathing steady he shifted his weight to the right side of the bed and stared in that direction. Just as his eyes met her, she spoke in a soft yet irritating voice,
"Oh goodness! You're finally awake. How do you feel? Are you alright? The doctor said you'll be fine. He said the injuries were not deep enough to cause any real damage. So you should regain full use of your hands again, that is, once the healing is done. Oh, honey we were so worried. But everything is going to..."
Memories flooded his mind as the realization of where he was set in and her voice began to fade in his ears. Nevertheless, for the next three minutes she continued her speech of comfoting words to him. Pleasant as her words were, he found them more annoying than comforting. Eventually, her presence diminished altogether as exhausted weariness grew on him and he fell into a welcomed slumber again.
When he awoke only an hour later, a younger woman was now by his bed. Elegance and beauty poured out of her as she relaxed against a high backed chair. A few minutes passed before she noticed he was awake. Seeing his eyes rest upon her, she smiled, delighted and reached out to caress his shoulder. He welcomed her touch and eased his body closer to the side of the bed. In a charmed yet somewhat reserved voice she asked,
"You know where you are?"
He inclined his head, indicating a positive response to her question. Relief fell from her shoulders as her eyes swelled with tears and she turned away from him.
"Analeigh"
His voice was rugged and heavy with desperation. He waited for her to respond and longed to reach out and grab her hand. Fear of her silence gnawed at his bones and sent chills through his spine. If there was one person in the whole world whose disapproval he could not bear to know, it was hers.
After what seemed like a century, she finally spoke. Her voice was strained, longing, fearful. Yet passion could still be heard seeping through and the softness of her very being couldn't help but grace her words. She spoke slowly and clearly, as if every letter was part of a desperate plea for help and the words fell upon his ears like a river rushing around a tight bending curve in the earth.
"What was it like? How did it feel?"
Her questions seemed fairly simple yet they entailed a life time's worth of answers. He knew no easy response would suffice her curiosity so he readied himself for a detailed account. Pulling the air through his lungs and steadying his mind, he began.
"It was beautiful... But not at first. At first it was dark and empty. I felt the blade shape its way through my wrist and as it did, I felt darkness take over. At first, every annoying sensation of the world around me was as if it were super magnified. My heart filled with doubt as it desperately tried to calm its own erratic rate. My ears started to ring but only for a few moments and then came a deafening silence. I couldn't stop my eyelids from sliding down over my eyes and the only sensation I knew then was the feel of my own blood rushing from my veins."
He paused and gazed up at her wondering whether she wanted him to finish or not.Her intense look made him aware of her wishes without having to express any words and he continued. His voice was slower this time and close to a whisper.
"But once that passed... Analeigh... it was wonderful. It was blissful. Perfect, like a melody from a long lost song. It grabbed hold of me and we danced to a stunning rhythm. The darkness faded and I was surrounded by stars of shining light. Every part of my being was fulfilled and satisfied. My worries were emptied from me and I felt a waterfall of weight slip off my very bones. The chills, the aching... all the pain was gone Analeigh. I was sitting among a field of wild roses and I smelled every sweet scent they had to offer."
In a more frantic, stern and longing tone he echoed,
"I smelled the roses Analeigh."
Light tears started to slide down his cheeks and his voice changed from anxious contained excitement to desperate hopelessness.
"And then it was gone. Just like that, I was pulled from the depths of beauty itself and thrown into darkness. Pain... excruciating pain enveloped my entire body and I could feel someone pulling me back. I tried to fight it. I tried to return to the roses, but that hand had such a tight hold on me. I couldn't breathe. I felt my lungs gasp and panic for air. I just wanted to go back to the roses but it kept pulling and with every surge, the pain grew stronger. Until finally every beautiful grace that I had experienced left me completely. My hope for happiness drifted away and I let myself sink into despair. The next thing I know, I'm lying in a hospital bed."
Analeigh let his voice fade out before she lifted her head and formed words. Her cheeks were covered in tears and her lips trembled. Her voice full of yearing desire and bleak hope, she said,
"Death sounds even more magical that I dreamed of. I wish I could have felt it with you. I wish I had the strength..."
Her voice died out as sad sobs escaped her lips and she was unable to form any more words.

No Difference!

By Shel Silverstein

Small as a peanut,
Big as a giant,
We're all the same size
When we turn off the light.

Rich as a sultan,
Poor as a mite,
We're all worth the same
When we turn off the light.

Red, black or orange,
Yellow or white,
We all look the same
When we turn off the light.

So maybe the way
To make everything right
Is for God to just reach out
And turn off the light!