Moment In Time – Welcome to the Inn Pt 2

He led her through endless halls, up and down stairs.  She wondered how he had the strength to lift them up and down, but he never showed a moment of discomfort.  All he showed was a gentle smile back to her when she asked to help. “No ma’am, this is my job.  I want to make you happy.  That is my job.”

As they made their way to the third floor, he huffed audibly and set the bags down, straightened himself and said, “these are your rooms, ma’am.”. I looked like a poleaxed cow. “My… rooms?”. He looked amused, “Yes.  You needed room to write your research.  We wanted to make sure you were comfortable.  We always want to make sure our visitors are comfortable.”  She did not like his toothy smile, nor the way he looked at her, but she could not help but look into the room.

It had a bed made for a king or a major movie star.  The paintings were a random dichotomy of relaxing and deranged.  He explained, as he put her bags on dresser, that the artwork was from four generations of visitors.  “They had… derisive ideas,” he said with a smirk.  She didn’t notice.  She only looked to the bathroom, with the tub, tendrils of stream beckoning out of it.

He took the hint and excused himself.  She checked and locked the door.  After a time studying, she never underestimated the draw for a pervert. She waited a suitable amount of time, stripped down, and stepped into the bathtub.  Her mind floated away.  She was lost in the heat, the relaxation, and no longer the oppression around her.

It chuckled.

Moment In Time – Welcome to the Inn Pt 1

She arrived late, later than she wanted to.  It was nearly noon when she left the cab, but she only had a few days here.  She recalled reading about the inn for hours, diving into its history.  It had a long, shady, and storied history.  She dived deep into those sordid stories maids and groomsman told in shaded corners.  She dove deep into the family that owned it, reveling in the dark history of the inn.

A vapid woman led them from the cab and into the inn, showing off a very impressive, yet rundown lobby.  There was no garbage on the ground, but everything seemed… run-down.  The phones on the wall and on the reception were out of date by nearly when Edison was born.  She decided that this was only a ruse to drive in those looking for nostalgia of something they could never reach back to.  She looked to the roof and its glass ceiling.  It was a pristine scene of an orgy, everyone locked in a look of fear and sexual pleasure.  She saw the same at her dormitory at college.  Nothing strange there.  She glanced around, trying to find an attendant as she walked closer to the reception desk.  Nothing stirred.  She reached the desk, flicked the bell standing silent.  The bell seemed to make a long drawn out ring, but also muted.  It was if it did not want to disturb anything.

“Yes?”, the voice startled her from to her left. She panicked momentarily, but saw the person who spoke.  He was an elderly man, probably in his late eighties.  He wore a servant uniform common for this country. He was not in anyway threating, he could barely keep standing, by her judgement.
“I..I am here for my room.  I am –“
“I know who you are.  I apologize that no one was here to greet you.  I am the keeper of this Inn, well…” he chuckled, “while the Masters are busy.  Do you need any assistance?”
“N..no.. I have this invite.  I would like to get settled and start my paper.”
“Of course.  Let me help you bring your items to your room.  You are on a very special floor.”
“S..” she choked on the words, “Special floor?”
“Oh yes.  This Inn does not have too many floors habitable for living in, we try to make sure all our guests have.. livable.. quarters.” He tottered off, carrying her bags.

Moment in Time – Rushmore

Stone.  Stone locked in position.  Stone looked in unseeing eyes.  Stone looked hungrily.  Stone looked at what was happening.  Stone was angry.  Stone was locked.  Stone was angry.  Stone was furious.  Stone was done with waiting.
____________________________________

He always wanted to visit Rushmore, it was always his dream.  He saved up is time off work, he saved up his money and got a motel close to the monument.  He wanted to cap off his life with seeing what America meant.  There was so much wrong going on, he wanted something more permanent. As he walked towards the viewing platform, he drank in every drip of America.  It coursed through his eyes and down through his cancer ridden limbs.  He wanted nothing but this moment.  Due to the pandemic, no one was there, he was able to stand alone.  He smiled.
______________________________________
Stone shrugged off his constraints.  The time had come.  Stone looked right and left.  Eyes saw what he couldn’t.  Eyes in heads he didn’t have.  Eyes who hated what America became.  Years, decades, centuries of America passed them in their deep slumber.  They were angry.  Stone was angry.  Stone looked down, saw a smiling face looking up as he shrugged the cliff off of himself.  His anger found a source.
_______________________________________
He was shocked at seeing the mountain break apart and come to life.  He was not even shocked in the angry countenance in it.  He just hand to shrug and smile.  He smiled as the stone raised it’s hand.  He smiled as the hand crashed down next to him.  He smiled as everyone ran.  He smiled as he dropped his cane, on his feet on his own for the first time in years.  He smiled as he died.
________________________________________
Stone lifted its hand, it was stained red, it was shocked.  In the granite mind it had, it knew red was patriotic.  Stone heaved itself out of the mountain, shaking off the last bits, rocks falling to the ground.  Stone looked around, lost, but turned east.  East was where it belonged.  East, yes.  East is where it should be.

Moment In Time – I Know (I Wanna Be Better)

I knew love.

Now I know loss.

I know control,

But I learned pain.

I knew love

I felt loss

I suffered

I know…

I know..

Pain.
Anger.
Hate.

I wanna get better,

I wanna feel again.

I wanna be.
I wanna be better.

Moment in Time – I Remember

He looks down at the broken shards, spread across the floor.  His eyes glance at the broken pictures, glass shattered across the carpet.  He moves from the room, feet crunching on the glass and wood on the floor.  He stumbles down the stairs. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.  Every step is a memory for him.  Each photo he tears off the wall.  He sips from a bottle, feeling the burn erase the memory for a moment, only to come back ten-fold.
He settles in the easy chair, a photo in hand.  He drinks deeply, never looking at the picture.  He knows if he does, he won’t do what he plans.  He drinks again.  He drags his head back, lost in the fog of alcohol and memory.
He recalls the time he saw her back in their college years. *drink* He recalls the nervousness between them both. *drink* He recalls the conversations at the café.  *drink* he recalls touching her between classes. *drink* he recalls the tender touches that lead to them. *drink* He remembers moving.  *drink* he remembers proposing. *drink* he remembers her saying yes.  *drink* he remembers her saying yes. *drink* He remembers her reluctance to moving in with him and leaving her parents. *drink* he remembers the wedding.  *drink* he remembers the wedding. *drink* He remembers her carrying for him in the hospital. *Swig* He remembers how she watched everything he did so he wouldn’t go back. *Chug* He remembers how she did everything to make a house a home. *drink* He remembers how she collapsed. *deep drink* He remembers how she went to the ambulance. *Finished bottle*..
He staggered to the fridge, stumbling from couch to chair to shelf.  His eyes burned, but he needed it to play out.  He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and stumbled somehow back to the living room.  He ignored everything from her.  He couldn’t stand it.
He took a long drink… He remembered being in the waiting room when the word came in. *shot* He remembered falling to the floor. *shot*  He remembered the never-ending hallway to the room.  *double shot*  He remembered her cold hand in his.  *double shot* He remembered telling her how much he loved her. *triple shot* He remembered how he would never forget this moment. *bang*

Moment in Time – Moments Revisted

He flicked through his Facebook pages as he did any other day, admiring photos and smirking at witty posts, when he saw a new post by one of his friends highlighted in a flaming red 1 at the top of the page.  He was a man who kept close friends close and only those he saw as close deserved updates, so he clicked and then clicked on his friends update.  It was an important update.  An update he was unaware of.

A wedding upcoming.

He sat still, taking in what he was reading, trying to fully take in what he was reading.  A friend of his who never invited him, yet someone who he felt close to for many years.  Memories flooded over him, drowning him in good and bad times in equal measure.  The cascade of memories froze his hands before they could wish the couple the best, mostly because the memories of the final day of being part of his friends life hit him.

…

He logged online after his birthday to game with his friends as normal, but no one would return his messages.  He wandered about the same area for hours, messaging his friends in game only to be met by silence.  One friend after another refused to answer him, leading to him thinking technical before personal.  He spent his time jumping over simulated boulders and dodging trees, but finally the message came.

The group decided he was not welcome anymore.  His life in another state was not acceptable when he returned and he became a burden to those he felt close to.  He sat back, his avatar motionless.  No one had spoken to him before hand and he had no idea he had become a burden to his friends.  His pleas fell on deaf ears and was left alone.

The darkness enveloped him as he lost the social center of his life while he learned some of his friends mocked him.  Some returned to only befriend him in social media, but nothing like it was because it would ruin the friendship of the others.  Despite this, he accepted what he could get to keep a small sliver of what he considered them at one point… brothers.

As he watched the post scroll away in other updates, he felt a moment of isolation.  The heartbreak he felt all those years ago hit strong.  He will never know if those who so casually abandoned him ever felt the same, but he still hopes they still have a spark of him inside them.  Today he has a group of friends surrounding him who forgive momentary indiscretions because they understand the way friendship works, but in his mind, during those quiet moments, he wishes that his “crew” could welcome him back and understand.

He closes the window and walked to the window, looking towards his old home and wonders.  Wonders if they still think of him too.

Tides of Time

Churning

.     Yearning

.           Burning

.    Hurling

.                  Over hill and dale.

Drowning

.            Tossing

Hatred

.                                For all sea and land.

.                   Cascading down,

.  thrusting forward,

.             burying history,

.                                                                            revolving time.

.                       The tide ever flows.

The Burn

Smoke swirls and

Alcohol burns, fueling ideas

and social media in equal measure.

I burn.

Craft beer and adult games,

final drink and goodbyes.

Driving in dreams and sinking in thought

I burn.

Blurred lines

conspicuous cars

random thought

missed turn

I burn.

I thought invincible and

I thought untouchable.

I thought unreachable and

I thought Immortal.

I pull in the drive,

head hanging by a thread.

I feel the burn course through me,

and dare myself to try again.

Moment in Time – Sinking then Sunk

He moved himself to a more comfortable corner of the cabin and shimmied into it to the point of imagined comfort.  He slide the bag near to his current location and heard the slight rattle of bottle against bottle and the swish of confined liquid against confined liquid, and in a moment of clarity he thought that no matter what something divided his life into partitions.  A shake of the head and a random hand-sweep of his right hand knocking a table off center mixed with the crinkle of a grocery store bag moving to the side while his hand probes the depths of the memory potion he seeks.  The bag gives way to the smooth contours of blown glass as his greedy fingers seek a solid handhold.

He removes the wire cap and forces open the cork with a solid popping sound and without a glass handy, he takes a deep drink of the amber liquid hidden behind labels and darkened glass.  Feeling the slow burn move down his throat and deep into his soul he slides the bag he brought before him and removes his pen and notebook, flipping past page after page of single-line text, every line a thought and every thought a memory that will be with him forever now.  He flicked page after page until a fresh page came to the forefront and clicked his Bic.  He wasn’t sure if this was the best time to write what happened down, but he had to tell someone before the world was finally made aware.  As all stories, this began at the beginning. . .

Marriage is all about compromise.  One wants one and the other wants another and the best solution lies in the middle of those two extremes.  This relationship was nothing special when it came to that.  He wanted one thing and she wanted another, but the problem that came to the forefront was that one moved past the dating phase and the other did not.  She moved through life, as he saw, unencumbered by the intricacies of life.  She loved spending until the money ran out and and devoured the attention of friends and family until the most courteous guest at a party left somewhat abashed.  He loved privacy and buried himself in his work, never opening himself to friends and family more than necessary and the distance between the two only started there, in the first month of their first week.

Month after month passed and nothing gained traction.  Arguments in private grew harsher and harsher.  They grew more and more distant and friends began to gather on the side of one or the other.  He spent most days out of the house and at pubs or his office, she spent her days with her friends or out at clubs while telling him she was working.  The relationship grew more and more towards shadows, but neither would let go.

Friends became enemies and enemies became potential spies for both of them.  They both hired private investigators, finally abandoning the pretext of retaining anything beyond a settlement through court.  She came home one night and finally decided it was enough and beyond something that could be fixed and he agreed and followed by a night composed of talking, tears, and realizations, they decided to separate.  He moved out the following day after signing a document which broke up all belongings, money, property, and a promise not to go for more from each other.

The divorce went smooth as one could think and suddenly they were done, expectations of each other met not in marriage but in divorce.  The possessions were divided as per the document they both decided upon but when most would think the story done at that moment, the tragedy happened after instead of during.

It took a year until she was deep in a relationship and two years after their marriage dissolved when the plan was hatched to see if he had removed her as the beneficiary, which he hadn’t.  With the idea laid before her through her own dark thoughts and the dark thought and money looming before her fiance as well, it took little encouragement to push him towards her dark deeds.

He wasn’t a slow idealist either, living in a family townhouse with his new wife and newborn, he occasionally harbored the same thoughts she did.  He never told his wife and told his daughter only while she slept.  His venom only told to the subconscious.

Events moved towards the sad conclusion and she planned to have him meet her to discuss the cabin that was still up for grabs with the promise that he might get it in the final decision.  He drove there expecting the best but she planned to have him held up at gunpoint and forced to give them what they wanted.  He drove to the meet and thought only of final closure.

He walked into the room and there she was and he was surprised that he had no feelings towards her.  Everything he felt while dating her and when they were fatefully married was gone.  She was a person, a thing to him now.  She towards him and he pushed away, suddenly feeling the anger towards her explode in his mind and he drew his small revolver.

He took another drink and thought that if things could be different, he would be dead or nowhere involved.  He declined to write the fact that he opened the door and accidentally fired a shot, missing everyone and hitting the wall just below the painting of the beach and lonely palm tree. His target hit square and swung with the revolver moving to his head and pulled the trigger.  Then silence.

He set down the pad and reached to the bag once more, a click and a fizz of a twist cap, followed by a satisfactory sigh and a bang, his last thought being a sarcastic “why did I get involved in this family?”

Second Chance Life

Cold thoughts and bitter memories
Shaded by leaves of dusk
Grip tightly to every movement made.

Bound by ribbons of memory
And gagged by choices made
History sometimes allows second chances.

A right instead of left,
A kind word instead of judgment,
Forgiving instead of condemning.

Sometimes those cold thoughts defrost
And those binding memories let go.
Sometimes the past doesn’t repeat,
It simply gives a second chance at life.