Monday, 23 April 2018

Alone


Holding her head, with her hands, she looked at the floor as the tear fell. Time slowed to an indescribable pace, as it fell, with another following quickly after. It hurt. It had always hurt. But, as she knew, now was not the time for such tears and sorrow. “Just for a few seconds,” she whispered to no-one in particular, allowing herself the solitary solace of letting it all go.


She’d lived a lifetime, possibly two if she believed her regression therapist, of loneliness and couldn't, even wouldn't, believe that it could happen over and over again. It wasn't due to being this, or that, as apparently, she had the looks, the stuff that the boys wanted, so why on earth did she often end up here, alone, crying in a corner, barely able to speak or contemplate the same situation. Repeat, repeat, the re-occurring circular drama and strife.

Her hands dropped away and she leaned back against the cold wall, looking at the ceiling, then out of the small window to her side. Being honest with herself, truly honest, she’d played it safe this time and yet it still didn't work. He wasn't exciting, he wasn't a dish of delight or even made her laugh. Options seemed thin, possibly due to her lifestyle and circumstance, so she’d decided to try safe, for awhile, normal, boring, yet even that failed.

She could feel her eyes, puffy, make-up probably running down her face, despite buying the expensive stuff that could withstand such things, but just like some men, the description often lies. Thinking of the past, the passed moments of her life, she’d reached a place where it was now or never, that ticking clock, that everyone often reminded her of, those nagging conformists that never, ever, stopped nagging. She wouldn't listen anyway, no matter how many times she was supposed to do this, or that, with him or her.

Her lip curled, just a little, reminding herself of what she’d given to her ‘ex’, the man that, twenty minutes previous, had declared his never-ending devotion and love. Life changed so fast, she knew this, with one second stretching to minutes, while years sometimes ending within that very same second. It had happened to her numerous times, to her friends, to her Brothers, to her very own parents. She knew that she was living in a time of serene ignorance. The throw away society to which, of course, she wanted no part of. She didn't ask for a warranty with her man, as all she wanted was for him to work with her, until the day they both broke and left this world.

Rubbing her eyes, removing the tears from the bottom of her face, she started to resolve the conflict inside of herself. This is what she did, often. It didn't matter, it wouldn't matter, as she knew that they were both healthy. He would now evaporate from her life, she would move on, start again, but maybe it was time for a new adventure. She closed her eyes, listening, slowing her breathing, to catch the sound of her own heart beating. It always reminded her of what she had, what she was given to enter this world. Her heart beating warmed her, embraced her, kept her warm when all others remained cold.

A smile appeared across her lips. It was that time, again, to rely on her own imagination. Every negative, sorrow filled moment, could be rationalised. Within reason. She’d cried, she’d let some of it go, with the remaining tears kept to remind her that she was worth so much more. She wasn't going to wallow in the never-ending solitude as, instead, she’d embrace this chance to realise that she was the only person that she needed for company.

She’d walked into a room filled with people, in the past, feeling so very lonely. She’d escaped from the few dates that quickly descended into a horrendous soul crushing escapade. She’d survived crying late into the night and now, today, she’d rise from this moment as well. Nothing, no-one, would ever, never ever, make her feel alone. That was an impossibility as she had her own heart, she had her own company, her own imagination and, above all, she had a beautiful soul.

Overall, no matter how many tears fell to the floor, no matter how she felt about herself, she would never, ever, truly, be alone.

Thanks


There were times when I simply didn't know what to do, which way to turn, but, as always, there was a safe recourse. A rescue. A place and a face that I knew that I could call home, a haven of safety, a person that always had the right answer. For that, I thank you.


There were moments where I’d managed to stumble into another mess, a place of destruction, with tears amongst the fears springing forward into everything that I am. I knew that I had to rescue myself but, as above, I realised that I always had you to lean upon. For that, I thank you.

There were seconds when I could hardly stand, where the tears begged to be let loose but I forbid those seconds. I had to be strong, just as you’d been, had been, through my life. You made me understand that I could be a rock, within this world, moving for no force or reason. For that, I thank you.

There were months where I went without saying hello, the months that I now regret but I won’t worry, as you were still there when I did appear, or call, as that’s the kind of person you were. That ever forgiving vessel of love and warmth. For that, I thank you.

There were years that seemed to vanish at the speed of light, with your smile still managing to appear, through any of your own hidden tears, never wishing to bring harm or worry to my own life. Through a brick wall, or even one word, you always knew when something was wrong. No matter how hard I tried, you, always, knew. For that, I thank you.

For every little thing, for all of the mighty moments, you brought life into the world and here I still am. For the times, the moments, the many seconds and the small months, there won’t be a year that I won’t, ever, Thank You.


Thank you, Mum.

Tuesday, 3 April 2018

Talk

There was a time, a long moment ago, when we spoke such words that even the oceans trembled at the mere thought of how we felt. Short, long, misconstructed or just blurted with free abundance, we just spoke until the day turned to night.


We shared, we gave everything away, with free ease, the stories melding one into another. If we closed our eyes we could live each other’s lives.  I could feel your footsteps, hear that heart of yours, taste the fear within the wishes that you’d always hoped would come true.

We wrote letters to each other, despite being able to see each other on any particular day. We just wanted to communicate, to share, to get each other. Each new word forming a cascading avalanche of expression. You opened my eyes and I, with you, opened all of the doors closed between us. We, you, with I, knew where we were going.

Then, on that one night, you told me your deepest, darkest, forbidden secrets and I, unlike others, didn't push you away or create a small wall destined to grow into something horrendous. I held you closer, I helped make us feel safer in this dark world of our own making. For the smallest second, the brief minute or two, we actually stopped talking and just… listened to the silence.

It was glorious, a stupor of indescribable splendour beyond all belief and our time. From whence it came we did not know and probably didn't care. We blessed each other, we cast aside our former sins and created new ones.

We watched as the world changed, becoming something different, fleeting connections becoming the norm, the standard, the level to which we must all attain and conform. We knew everything about each other, with moments of wonder still revealing themselves at random moments. The laughter, that laughter, was contagious.

As that world changed, we stayed the same, static and strong, a formidable team accomplishing deeds far outside the standard. We simply were. We didn't hold our heads high as we preferred to keep them level, stable, never believing that we were ever destined to somehow be any better than anyone else. Realistic, pragmatic, the rational two among the many.

The days moved forward, into the marriage of life, the connection of two with seldom a crossed word. Respect, after all, was the defining statement from the start and we understood. We knew this. After we left the building, the church on the day, you told me your dreams had arrived, the same said dreams from your youth, the dreams filled with a white dress and kisses.

This was what I needed, this was what we all wanted, the stability from within. If it not be found with another then we find it within ourselves but, when you've decided to spend years finding that stability, we both knew that a holding hand could be found from another.

We held hands, we held on with might, all the strength in the world never able to cut the bond we forged from within a thousand words, a hundred wishes and a billion kisses. It was, as said, glorious. All because we spoke to each other, defined ourselves with honesty and dignity, before jumping into the mess called life. All we had to do was talk to each other. All we had to do was be honest. We both knew that being honest could solve everything and anything.

All we had to do… was talk.


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The photo, above, was kindly sent across by Rachel who owns her own Photography company. We're talking photos that make you smile!  Have a look if you have a moment and I'm sure to include a few more over the coming months.

Monday, 26 March 2018

Roulette


“You see,” said Yuri, while pointing to a cabinet over to the side of the warm room, “there is a price to pay here in Mother Russia for doing what you have done.” As the words stopped, the hate and sneering face literally inches away from Samuel, Yuri returned to the chair that was placed directly in front of Samuel.

Face to face, the room deathly quiet, Samuel could see that his time might just be limited to the next few seconds. To his side a man, dressed in a smart suit, returned with a small biscuit tin. In total he’d noticed six other people in the room so, no matter what happened, he wasn’t just walking out of here without permission from Yuri.

Samuel reminded himself of the man that he was dealing with, a ruthless, sadistic, nasty Russian that did not take kindly to anyone crossing him. He’d actually say something, if he could, but instead he just sat there with shaking hands. Yuri placed the small tin onto his lap, opening the lid with care, “This, Samuel, has been in my family for generations. It is priceless and this… ,” continued Yuri as he reached inside the tin to lift the gun, “…is a Nagant M1895 revolver. Seven glorious rounds!” Samuel’s eyes must have opened that bit wider but he didn’t notice as all he could hear was the thick Russian accent and his own heart beating against his chest.

“They were made in Belgium, until Russia bought in 1898.” Samuel watched as Yuri lifted a small lever, next to the gun barrel, to which he then lifted one single bullet, placing it into a chamber. “Would you like to play a game, Samuel?” Asked Yuri. Samuel said nothing, resisting the urge to finally say what he’d wanted to say for the longest time. While smiling, Yuri placed his hand onto the barrel, turned the gun slightly upside down, to the left, spinning the chamber with a quick flick of his fingers. He then returned the lever to its original place, handing the tin to the man still standing beside him. “We will play game, you and I, until we know where we are Samuel,” exclaimed Yuri with a finality that Samuel had not heard before.

Samuel’s mind started to gather control, accepting the situation, thinking of ways to escape. He knew what Yuri was capable of, which led to his disbelief of still being alive. Nothing he could say, as far as he could see, would change the circumstances he now found himself. Nothing. ‘The truth  then,’ thought Samuel, as that would probably be the best way forward.

“Tell me why I should let you walk out of here?” asked Yuri, with a calm and collective ease that didn’t betray any thoughts at all. As he watched the barrel move he blurted out his answer,
“You should let me walk out of here because I can give her a better life, a good life, away from all this!” 

Click.


As the room filled with silence Yuri calmed himself from literally rising a few millimetres from the chair. He was still here, no holes, no blood, but wanting to leave the room. “A good answer,” said Yuri, “but what is to say that you can leave the Bratva? I have given you food, shelter, warmth and this is how you repay me?”
“I meant no disrespect Brother Yuri, I could not help my heart do the things that they have done!”
Yuri, still contemplating his next decision, moved quickly forward from his chair, placing the gun’s barrel against Samuel’s head, as he gently squeezed the trigger, “Promise me something young Yuri, promise me and you can leave…” asked Yuri as he watched Samuel close his eyes, “Promise me that you will look after my Daughter, keep her safe and warm as I have done for you!”


Click.

Yuri, sitting back onto his chair, listened to the reply, “I promise, as a Bratva general, that I will honour my duties as I would to you!”


Yuri, finally convinced of Samuel’s resolve, ushered to one of the guards to open the door as another handed him a suitcase. As the casino noise echoed into the room, Yuri motioned to Samuel, “Take this, take all of this, it is the money you have earned over the years.”  Samuel, not expecting such a generous gift, stood from his chair, taking the case and walked towards the door. Before leaving he stopped, turning his head towards Yuri to say one last thing, “Thank you Yuri. Thank you!” Yuri, wondering if this was the right decision, pointed the gun in the air, pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into the ceiling. With the loud bang sending Samuel quickly out of the room.


Yuri, walking over to the various decanters, selected his favourite drink and poured a small amount into a glass while murmuring words, “You give them so much, they take even more, then one of them runs away with your daughter. Is a funny world. In Soviet Russia roulette spins you!” Taking a sip, feeling the warmth, Yuri finally smiled and nodded knowing that, for once, he had done a good thing.

Monday, 19 March 2018

Confessional


Deaglan, still playing with his hands, nervous energy evident in all of his actions, waited for the quick nod. It had been, probably, over 4 years since his last confession. Since that time he’d experienced a lot, changed job a few times, met a lot of new people, seen small parts of the world but still yearned for his Irish roots. Settling back into his home life he’d managed to establish something worth living for but, no matter what he’d seen, done, or planned to do, he still knew that there were important things to in life.

He heard the knock and opened the confessional booth door. The cold dark wood, probably older than him, creaked ever so slightly as the small room welcomed him. Sitting on his hands, still nervous, he said the words that he hadn't heard for the longest time, while making the sign of the cross, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four years since my last confession!”  Deaglan felt the shame but, with the way of things, that shame wasn't as strong as it used to be. He knew that times had changed, but no matter what, he believed and that was all that counted. He heard Father Patrick clear his throat before speaking, “Tell me Son, tell me your thoughts!”

Deaglan, not one to gossip, or to follow the general thinking of today, decided to be honest despite his thoughts torturing him. If he’d told friends, or colleagues, he knew that he would be laughed at so now was the time, the place, to be brave and honest. “Father,” he paused, selecting his words carefully, “There is a woman that I like.”  He could see Father Patrick move ever so slightly, which didn't calm his nerves.

“Tell me Son,” Father Patrick asked, “what is troubling you? It is perfectly fine for such things.”
Deaglan looked down, taking in the view of the carpet, quickly snapping back to his thoughts, 
“It’s just that she’s been chasing me Father. My thoughts are not as pure as they should be.”  As the words moved from his lips, with each second, a small weight lifted from his mind. He didn't follow the normal convention of things, trying to stay as pure a possible which, in today’s age, seemed to be getting harder and harder.


A few seconds arrived and left as Father Patrick mused the situation. Eventually, slowly, he moved closer to ensure that Deaglan heard his words, “Son… Do you think that Adam, as well as Eve, committed a sin by being with each other?  It is okay for a woman to chase a man, as much as it is acceptable for a man to court a woman. There is no venial or mortal sin, even when we are in our natural naked state.  It is normal. It is natural.”  Deaglan, floored by the answer, could barely find any words to reply but, due to his silence, Father Patrick continued, “Eve did not tempt Adam with her body, not once, as we desire, as beings of love and passion, it was by an outside snake that she unwittingly eat the forbidden fruit and, in doing so, offered the sin to Adam.”

As Deaglan relaxed that little bit more he asked the serious question that had been playing on his mind, “Should I ask her out for a meal Father?”
“Of course you should Son, as soon as possible. I gather that your intentions are just?”
“They are Father, they are, despite her words being on the rude side!”  
Father Patrick laughed, “Son, words are words. Intentions lead to actions and if you become man and wife, the words will all be worthwhile. Embrace the chance you have. Now, do you have anything else you would like to say?” Deaglan shook his head before confirming that he didn’t.
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good,” said Father Patrick to which Deaglan replied,
“For His mercy endures forever!”


Deaglan stood and exited the booth, knowing that he’d say penance as soon as he could. He couldn't believe the reply, wondering what he would now do. Walking from the Church, onto the path outside, he looked at his phone, opening the chat application, to which he started writing a text that made his intentions clear. He had a pure heart, a good heart, a heart that always made his Mother proud and he intended to keep it.

As the message flew into the world of electronic communication, he smiled, finally knowing that his growing feelings weren’t something to be ashamed of. Sometimes, at least on this very day, confessing his supposed sin cleared the way to a new world. Looking back, towards the church, a bigger smile appeared across his lips and he knew that today, his confessional day, was truly a day of days.

Saturday, 17 March 2018

Echo


Exhaling hard, lungs on fire, she stopped and closed her eyes. Trying to regulate the breathing mess that she’d managed to get herself into, listening to her heart, beating, battering against her chest and thoughts. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy but, many things worth doing, never were.


Opening her eyes, looking upwards, she embraced the view in front of her. The mountain, that mountain, that she’d wanted to climb for the longest time had finally knocked on her door and invited her to roam. She’d accepted the challenge, risen from her daily mundane life and taken that day off. For once, just this once, she’d decided to fall away from the routine of things.

With each step her body asked her to turn, to slowly descend back to the bottom, but that wasn't going to happen. Other than her body feeling agitated, she wasn't in any danger, so she scorned her mind and told herself to shut up. It was, after all, only a mountain and the path were laid out directly in front of her. Sure, the twists and turns were there, with many plainly in view, but it wasn't anything that difficult.

Images roamed into her thoughts as she advanced, of her state of mind, her current situation, as well as a few distant choice moments that she’d wished not to be reminded of. But this was her mind, her life, hardly a mess, but a jumble of ideals, thoughts and inner fights. She knew that she had confidence issues, those nagging doubts that seemingly pushed at her heart strings. She was an expert at self defeat, but not all the time, just in the occasional circumstances that mattered.

Her earlier life seemed to be full of moments, those moments, where you just wanted to run away and hide. Sure, of course, she smiled a little as she remembered that she’d actually achieved far more than she’d failed at, yet her mind did seek any opportunity to interject choice words of negative fate. She could do this, yet because of that, she didn't place that foot forward. Shame, a tragic affair, but the same for many, many people and moments.

Nearing the top, or at least the top that she could see, she’d managed to get her breathing under control, that second breath of energy. Sometimes, she reminded herself, stopping didn't mean failing. It simply meant that she was stopping to catch a breath, to strategise, or to simply scream into the face that looked at her in the mirror. This was life, this was her life, so she, above all, controlled every single little aspect.

She knew that she’d been facing a small inner crisis, for the shortest time, or was it the longest time? She didn't know, probably didn't care at this point, due to the new climbing boots biting into her ankles. The pain, sure to follow, wouldn't matter as she was a woman and women knew pain all too well. Mental, physical, with her soul sometimes cracking in the process.

She took one mighty step forward and reached the top of the mountain, looking into the valley ahead of her, smiling as she sat down on the cold concrete bench. Hardly a challenge to be proud of, as she’d been here a few times before, but this visit being for something different. Brushing her hair aside, bundling it into a hair clip, she embraced the situation and stood. Proud, full of energy, wishing for someone, somewhere to hear her and, most of all, to hear herself. She clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her voice. Every single bit of energy, she had left, she let loose as she fell to her knees. Her adrenaline spiked, her face started to turn red, as she continued to scream.

A tear appeared, followed by a few more, as she stopped screaming. The echo. She heard her own scream, a few times, until it vanished. Although she felt a bit embarrassed, with just the thought of saying such things, she shouted out the words that appeared in her mind, “I believe in you,” pausing to hear her own voice echoing, smiling as she heard her own voice tell her what she needed to hear, “I believe that you’re worthwhile. I'm here for you!”

Many words, many echoes, were spoken. Returning to the seat she felt a small weight lift from her mind. So many people, so many times, everyone told her, informed her, that she was worthwhile, that she could accomplish anything she set her mind and heart to. It didn't matter. The damage, the years of damage, had been done. So many words of negativity, so many moments that made her heart crack into small pieces where, finally, she had to hear her say the very words that she wanted to believe. Within her, her mind, but most of all her heart, hearing herself finally admit that she could lift her tired arms, that she could truly put her heart into any adventure, made that small bit of difference to her.

For far too long she’d heard the echoes of past lovers, past failures, past demons, that hearing the echo of positivity was something that she had to do for herself. Standing once again, drying her eyes, she nodded at the valley, expressing thanks, then turned to walk back down the mountain.

Saturday, 10 March 2018

Lasting


At the start, we know, we knew, that we had a chance to make things work. The adventure of a lifetime, filled with kisses, affection and more. A lasting roller-coaster of emotion that could see us into the later years. I knew, we know, that we had to hold what we had with careful hands, like a new born, but instead we lambasted everything into oblivion.


It’s a shame, it’s a sacrifice, it’s sacrilege to reminisce all the things that we said and didn't do. If I cast my net back to the past I can also see that some of the things that we did do, were just plainly unjustified and possibly cruel. A heart can be loved but, in the same breath, it can be crushed alive and kicked to the side quicker than the words, “I love you,” stop echoing from the halls of romance.

Previously I mentioned a roller-coaster, the ups and downs, not just in the bedroom where we should all experience the making of love, but in the negative sense. We feed, we throw around words designing to manipulate, to sever, to inflict pain, that are so seamless from normal life that it becomes the norm. When did it become practical to hold the hand of your loved one while, in the very next breath, state such negative threatening behaviour that you can see the heart struggle. It’s crippling, its depth knows all of the anger in the world, today, tomorrow and the next day.

It’s done, it’s gone, it has left our world, ready to be replaced with a kinder view, a hand that holds instead of brandishing words ready to scold.

At the start there’s smiles, there’s tenderness, as we listen to the stories of old. Some filled with laughter, some spoken of sadness, but mainly that chance to form something new. Personally, when I'm here thinking of such things, I’d rather keep the past where it’s passed from view. It’s done, gone, over, left behind and no longer of use. I’d rather not speak of such things, the loves of old, instead moving with a view of creating a new set of memories with someone new. Why embrace the failed nature of things? We've lived there, been there, survived and moved forward. Do we need to embrace a new heart with stories of something broken?

Of course we do. It’s nature, it’s how things have been defined. Create a connection via shared failings, broken hearts, wishing and escalating the very chance to find something that’ll fix us, define us, move us forward. Two hearts can beat as one yet, as we've found, one heart need not stifle the other. It happens, it’s happening now, a person’s opinion being silenced in the vain effort to always be correct. No-one, never, should ever, dismiss someone’s thoughts when they don’t correlate to theirs. That isn't love, this isn't the way of understanding, as it’s cruel and demanding. Childish even.

Let love speak, let it breath, let it escape into the hearts of every single person we meet on a daily basis. Heck, we can manage to be ever so pleasant to strangers yet vile and disgusting to the ones that hold our very hand. Where can this possibly come from? Where does it hide?

At the start, we realise, we experience, the very chance to make something magical. It’s an adventure waiting to happen, filled with wide open eyes and kissing lips. A lasting rise of emotion that should see us into our later years. I realise, we experience, holding a new hand, with wishes of something amazing but, instead, we sometimes destroy the very thing that we really, really need.

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Written last month but not finished until today.