Monday, 12 November 2018


Stepping from the ashes, the desolation around my very human, frail frame, I keep my eyes closed. I'm not yet ready to forget the moments behind me, holding on, trying to grasp the memories long gone. I’ll never forget, maybe never forgive, but to re-live those seconds burns hotter than the flames that consumed my very life.

I've said it before, I’ll say it again, I’ll repeat it a thousand times until I perfect the words… I'm not perfect, I will fail, but the grace within my very soul will learn. It’s adaptable, I'm willing, able, ready to become something better each step of my very life. I have a future, that could end any second, but it’s still there, until it arrives, and I believe. I truly believe.

I'm the person that’s kind, considerate, even stupidly so, but that’s where I'm adapting. Each of us, every single person, you, the I, the we in this equation, can make the world a better place. It’s not as difficult as math, or the simple moment where you meet the person of your dreams in a crowded room, it’s the more or less of how you make it.

I'm holding on, to a dream that faded the very second a word was spoken. It’s not the first time, probably not the last, but that’s the very adventure that makes a poor boy like me feel alive. Bath me with flames, melt the very skin away from my body, take everything from me and, eventually, I’ll rise stronger than I could ever envision. This is within all of us. The moment we fell, hurt ourselves as children and the second we looked for acceptance, is the moment that we realised that we can all dust ourselves off and continue.

It’s that simple. It’s as easy as that. There are millions of television episodes, within this world of ours. Some tragic, some upsetting, many funny and the many reminding us that we’re not alone. When I'm standing there, naked, in front of a mirror, I don’t see my own body as I see a suit for the very person that hurts, that feels. I'm not my lips, I'm not my face, I'm the thoughts within and they’re all that matter. I also see… pain. Just look into my eyes and it’s there, it’s alive, but just like the episodes we watch each and every single day, we can place these moments of our lives into such an episode. It’s done, it’s over, the 45 minutes neatly packed into a moment to remember in the weeks to come.

I'm currently writing the final subtitles of the past few weeks. I'm not happy with the episode, it hurts to write such things, but it’s life and the next episode will be stronger. Larger. Embracing, enthralling, the adventure meant to steal hearts and remove all clothing. There will be talking, lots of talking, as well as, finally, love making. I apologise, I refute the ideals of others, but this world without passion is nothing at all. It’s empty, it’s vacant, a space to rent for desolation and emptiness. Just another chance to try to grasp another fleeting moment, of frail happiness, without realising what we've let go of.

No more. Nothing less. Not in this episode. It will start with ashes, a lone figure, as stated, rising from the same ashes he’d visited before. This time, he’d searched that bit deeper, realised, fixed, complimented the moments within his structure. He’d solidified, resolving, not wishing to preach of a sanctuary for all, as this is his moment. Only when you've been stripped bare, removed of all the covers, can you truly create a nest for your love and emotion. I'm there, still writing, mind tinkering, heart thinking, waiting for the start.

I'm excited, with the energy that I have, which isn't enough but acceptable for now. You've read about the phoenix, you've heard about the Island, but that was then and this, right now, is the start of something new. Too many people hide, too many are afraid of finding something within them that will set them free, but me, I, we… can be so much more.

Stepping from the ashes, the old skin of my life turned to dust around me, I smile and finally open my eyes. Only a little, only a small amount, as I'm going to walk before I run. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the old me is no more. 
Click the following to listen:


Hand on my heart, to all that have listened, to all that have helped, I thank each and every single one of you.

Wednesday, 7 November 2018


The twisty smooth road disappeared around a corner, into the distance, as the powerful car easily handled the turns. A quick left, a small right, eventually leading to the long climb up the mountain that he’d driven upon many, many times. Life, for him, was amazing. Easy. A breeze. The same kind of breeze that currently moved his tailored hair. The view above the car, a crystal-clear blue with not one cloud in the sky, ensured that he kept on the designer sunglasses. No expense spared, never holding anything back, he’d lived this life for many, many years and enjoyed every second.

As a child he’d dreamed, imagined a world where you could work towards what you wanted, desired, albeit not quite knowing about any type of desire at that age. His dreams, back then, were pure, often poetic, laughed upon by his Mother and Father. They’d secretly idolised his view of life, wondering if they too should think of such things, but back then times were simple. Easy. Sparse. Moments to be missed amongst the long forgotten, but easily recalled, hugs and kisses.

For a second, he allowed a smile to shine through his chiselled exterior. A business man, that once was, dealing with the high factor of life and all the money that it brought towards him. The broker, the deal maker, the linguistic challenger of thoughts and master of making sure that everyone, absolutely everyone, got what they deserved. At times it had been tough, dealing with the devil, the middle man, as well as the person who didn't have much in life. Each time he’d ensure that the lowest common denominator received far more, than whatever the worth. The rich would always stay rich, when smart enough, while the poor were simply happy with what they had.

The view moved as he neared the mountain top, the three sixty view usually making visitors gasp in awe at such moments, but in his case, he’d seen it all. At the age of twenty-six he’d visited the beautiful Island of Bora Bora. By twenty-eight most of the Fiji Islands. He’d made an insane profit while attending a Las Vega seminar, and been delayed by three days in Dubai. Each place, each destination, beautiful, a veritable luxury desire, yet all the same. The bricks, the people, the many, many faces, all simply dissolving into the history of his life.

The car revved as he arrived at his destination, his main home within this world, as he pressed the button to cease the engine noise purring behind his ears. The door opened and, as he stepped out of the car, he pressed a button and walked away as the soft top appeared from the concealed compartment, closing and locking the car. Another button press and his front door opened.

Walking into the front room, the slight breeze flowing into the open space, he embraced the chance to feel the cool air around him. It had been an advantageous day, a day of clarity, yet the view in front of him offered no solace. Leaning against the solid wooden beam, in the middle of the room, he kept his gaze looking outward, thinking, demanding that his mind stop. He adored this view, loved this setting, wouldn't and couldn't let this go, but things had to change.

Since the age of 32 he’d searched for something, something that money couldn't buy. He’d had his moments, his affairs, his lovers and his partners, but none of them mattered. He’d thrown away the chance to earn another million pounds, the previous month, but that, to him, was worth it. He needed nothing more than what he had. He desired but his own company. He was, above all, an accomplished person within his own small world.

He didn't care about the car. He didn't care about the expensive watches or the idiotic paintings around this building. He didn't consider visiting nearly every corner of the world a boast of success, or a manner to which his pride could be boosted, as pride did not feature within his mindset. He’d seen the most precious moments within his own life, the birth of a child, the loss of another. He’d spilt his own blood through his very tears, but all of this in front of him, every single second, was not considered paradise when the only thing missing within his life, was the paradise of kissing her lips. 

This, above all, could not honestly be purchased with money. This, to him, was the real paradise which he could no longer have.
Click the following to listen:

Monday, 5 November 2018


Frank twiddled the connector, his final check, despite already checking twice in the last few minutes. This was his life’s work. This, to him, was everything. The accumulation of 25 years, once hidden, suddenly brought forward and considered to be the most important project currently envisioned around the world. He assured himself, placated his growing anxiety, that everything would go as planned.

Looking across the wide room, to see what Phillipe was doing, he muttered various words under his breath. He’d worked with Phillipe for the last 2 years, despite preferring to work on his own, but circumstances changed, places changed, projects grew in importance and more. He had to embrace change, he knew that he adored his work, but the results were of the utmost importance and that, all on its own, was where they were heading.

Phillipe, finishing whatever he was working with, placing the spanner onto the table at his side, turned to look at Frank. Nodding, a thumbs up, which signalled that they were ready. The large clock, just above the eight large screens, in front of the both of them, neared eight pm. Only a couple of minutes remaining before they embarked on their dream.

Phillipe appeared alongside Frank, both looking across to the military policeman, still wondering if he actually spoke. Ever. Even once. “Are we ready?” Said Frank almost whispering.
“We are!”
“Are you triple sure?”
“Sure and sure?”
“If a small amount of pressured gas can escape a 2 bar conduit then no. Otherwise yes.”
“No need to get all stroppy.”
“Don’t worry. It’s time!”

Both Frank and Phillipe dusted themselves off, brushing their shoulders and, moving across to the main platform in front of the televisions, they waited the few seconds before the screens flickered to life. In front of them appeared the President of the United States, Chief of Staff and other respected members of government. This day, this moment, was truly an hour for the both of them. Frank’s smile beamed, despite his nerves, but that wasn't going to stop their greatest achievement to date.

“Hello,” stated the President, “please introduce yourselves and bring us up to speed with the current understanding of events." 
“Certainly Mr. President,” replied Frank with his best accent., while pressing the button on his laser pointer. The display behind them appeared. Frank, moving closer to the screen, started to inform them of the current situation. He’d been there, visited the various locations around the world, where people had initially been institutionalised, declared insane, for their multiple personalities. He’d studied them, spoken to them, with each person seemingly sane with valid multiple persons living within their minds. It was a mystery, a modern marvel, that could easily be overlooked.

He’d been there when the first multi-billion corporation stake-holder experienced the same circumstance. Multi-personality defect, ‘MPD’, as it was eventually known, with this case also being pushed under the radar to keep the situation under control. After multiple cases he realised that the mind, as strong as it could be, would and could eventually break. He knew that there was layer upon layer of information stored but, due to all of this, he’d never realised how much.

Frank finished the introduction, informing them of the first eleven thousand cases, all appearing over the last two years. The human race had visited the stars, other planets, yet the actual mystery was still the mind. Today, due to their work, a mystery would soon be solved or, at least, an explanation found. The President, nodding, as Frank carried on talking, looked at his watch and Frank instantly diverted focus from whatever he was blathering about, to the experiment.

Phillipe, ahead of Frank by a few seconds, was already tapping away at a computer. Frank walked across the room, stopping in front of three males strapped to metal tables, all upright, awaiting their fate. “As you can see, Mr President, we have three test cases for you today. We have an able-bodied test subject, subject A, subject B, who is also able bodied, as well as subject C, who is in a coma kept alive by a machine. Each subject has accepted the test case and has agreed to… leave the test area.”

Phillipe, walking to the side of the test platforms, pressed a red button and watched as the blue liquid moved through the tubes into the right arm of each subject. Frank, continuing from Phillipe, informed the watching representatives of the liquids function, to monitor the energy emitted from each person, once the test was under way. They were ready, finally ready, to proceed. Frank looked across to the guard, nodding, knowing what would happen next.

The guard walked across the room, removing the pistol from his side holster, handing it to the second subject. From another side holster he removed his other pistol and aimed it at the first subjects head. Phillipe, not happy with what he had to do, stood beside the life support machine, placing his finger onto the off switch. Ending the lives of three people, no matter the situation, did not come easy to Phillipe, but science seldom questioned the motives of progress.

The room fell silent. Deathly silent. Anticipation, fear, adrenaline and anxiety all flowing from Phillipe and Frank. “Proceed gentlemen,” said the President. As soon as the words left his mouth Phillipe pressed the off switch. Subject B, after placing the gun into his mouth, pulled the trigger and the guard shot subject A in the head. All dying, almost instantaneously, as Frank and Phillipe briskly walked over to the main bank of computers.

The monitoring equipment moved into place, the gigantic dishes revolving from where they sat, above the three dead subjects. They both watched the screens, eyes wide open, the data being sent to the watching representatives. Then, right at that moment, Frank pressed another button and the room’s lights changed to dark blue. Phillipe’s mouth opened as he watched two of the subject’s auras shrink, to encompass the area around their now dead bodies, specifically the brain area.  In all their lives they’d never, ever, seen something like this happen. Travelling to new planets had led to new discoveries, which lead them here, but if it were not for the odd circumstance,s they’d never have realised this ever happened.

The aura, the blue mist, waited for a few seconds, before moving away from the bodies and heading down into the ground.  Frank and Phillipe, of course, did not miss the fact that subject A failed to have the same result.

Increasing the power of their monitoring equipment, Phillipe looked towards the screen that showed a view of the planet. They’d configured three incredibly large structures at the optimum location around the world for this event and, of course, they would know where the auras were heading. They watched, silent, the entire room silent, as both the spectral like entities headed down into the Earth’s crust. Through the upper mantle, the lower mantle, directly into the outer core before stopping within the inner core. Still shocked by what they were witnessing, both of their minds absolutely alive with notions, thoughts, as well as facts, they watched as both auras broke into smaller sections. They had no idea what this could mean, yet.

For a few seconds everyone simply stared, in awe of what they were watching, until slowly a few small sections of the aura started to move from the core. Phillipe activated the tracking features of the main orbiting satellites, knowing what might come next. Frank smiled at Phillipe, also realising what this could all mean. The computer replied with a beep, confirming the lock and trace of the aura segment. Moments flew, the room still silent with the occasional keyboard click. The aura nearing a location, not too far away from where they were all standing, stopped. The satellite, tracking the location, provided an exact address.

As the feed appeared onto all the screens a phone call was made, and units despatched. Phillipe knew, as did Frank, what would happen next. They’d know for over a year but couldn't state their findings without proof, or possibly being locked away. Frank knew that all life, no matter the life, be it an animal or human, had the capacity to exist outside of their understanding. He knew that there were areas, of the mind, that may never be explored, but he also believed that knowledge could be stored. Passed along. Kept.

“What do you make of the results Gentlemen?” said the President with a serious tone to his voice. Frank, looking at Phillipe, knew that he’d have to select his words carefully in the next few moments.

“Mr president, life has an energy, a knowledge, coded into every single cell within our bodies. There can be anomalies, but they are more to do with how we live our lives and the food we consume. An instruction manual is just that, with the growing process taking years instead of a simple building set. What we've seen here today is the bodies propensity to retain knowledge. We've seen the anomalies across the planet, with multiple personalities escaping, which means that the aura is a vessel that contains knowledge, carries it, returns it to the central source.” Frank, stopping for a moment, looking at Phillipe, who looked like he wasn't willing to add anything to the explanation.

Frank continued nonetheless, “All life on this planet is just that, life, with the planet being alive as much as we are alive. We have just witnessed a person’s collective knowledge being split, re-distributed, into any number of new life. The movement, back through the core, is more than likely a new life being made. Millions upon millions of new life created using a set of energy re-distributed again and again, which means…” Franks’s mind halted at the very thought of what he was about to say, horrified, shocked, stopping his thought process. He knew that he had to continue, “we are all part of the same energy, every single one of us. Subject A, however, was killed by another Human being and his energy died due to that act!”

Phillipe closed his eyes, the realisation that the human race was basically reducing the energy pool one by one, with wars eradicating the source exponentially, with his thinking quickly understanding that animals killing animals for food was not done with malice, hatred, or a lack or empathy. This could change everything, change the entire world, every single person realising that they were, more than likely, bonded and related in a way that transcended blood or view. Further bloodshed and killing would eventually, drastically, reduce the likelihood of new life on this very planet. Entire species extinct. One by one.

Phillipe turned to Frank, about to smile despite the serious connotations of what they’d discovered, when he noticed the guard appearing to Frank’s side. The blood splattered across his face, Frank’s blood, as he watched Frank fall to the side. He then froze as the gun appeared in front of his own face, then, darkness. The screens, one by one, switched off, leaving the President the only person remaining on-line. He addressed the guard, “Thank you Brian. You have done your country a great service today. You can imagine the chaos and life-threatening circumstance if this information were to ever see the light of day?”
“I do Mr. President!”
“After all these years, I knew that I could count on you. You know what to do now?”
“I do Mr. President!”
“Thank you Son, see you next week at the family dinner?”
“I will Sir. Thank you!”

The final screen switched off, leaving only the guard, who quickly dialled a number, before saying one word, “Quarantine.”

Click the following to listen:

Thursday, 1 November 2018


I can feel you, all of you, around me, moving so slowly that I can hardly breath. Each time I inhale, each time I even think of moving, I fail. I don’t want to move, be anywhere else, with anyone else, but right here in this moment. You’re right there, forehead against mine, looking at my eyes as I take your warm breath into my lungs.

We've done everything else, the fast moments of life, escaping into the past like some forbidden dreams long forgotten. We've held each other against the many places that life brought forth, so now, right now, this is what we've been working towards. The slow moments. The bonding moments. The place that we all so secretly desire.

The soft music, playing in the background, the pillows strewn everywhere, sheets mangled, lipstick smeared, clothes across the room, all part of what is to take place. I know that your name rests upon my lips, when we’re apart, just before I fall asleep at night. I delve into the mysteries of your life, those thoughts of yours, often so different than mine, but that will never, should never, bother me. I've dreamed of you, with me holding you so close that we almost become one. Singular, bonded, the strongest imaginable force within this world and then, just then, my eyes open. It’s the old tale of waking, into sunshine, with the same name upon your lips.

But I don’t care about that right now, as my fingertips move along your back, the soft supple skin teasing my every thought. I could hold you for the entire day, the week, for as long as you look at me that way. You know how I feel, what I want, need, cherish and respect in this world. You've heard my words, felt them spoken a thousand times upon your lips, so there’s nothing left to say other than this very moment.

Each time I'm near you, the same room, something just begs me to be where you are. I know the rules, the oxytocin release, the pleasure factor, the bonding mechanism, but it’s far, far more than that. The attraction, every word you say, even when silly, just increases whatever’s inside. It’s not all about the endorphin rush, it’s just you. All about you but, at the same time, I can agree, that this is what ‘I’ want.

Every single movement you make, my mind simply loses itself, falls into your oblivion, the place where I become yours and yours alone. You wash over me, cleansing me of doubt, of all thoughts of any other place or time. We rushed here, we preached before we practised, with this being the sermon of our lives. I need to know you, understand you, appreciate your buttons, your doubts, the fears of your world, your nightmares as well as desires. There’s nothing if we don’t communicate on all levels and this level, right now, is just as important as all the others.

There you go, being you, letting me, move you over me, with my hands holding your hips. The kissing increasing with ever intense furore. I need to taste your lips. Every single day. Every hour if I could. It might be exhausting, it might feel overwhelming but trust me, truly trust me, we’ll both float upon clouds by the time my affection is understood. I live to adore. I live to give affection and now, thankfully, I understand that I also need the same in return. Not as much, just… something.

Not too fast, slow things down as there’s no rush, kissing your neck just a little as you close your eyes. I'm here, never going anywhere, realising that you need this as much as I do. So close, such warmth coming from your body’s aura, tension building and the skin to skin feeling, encompassing the both of us. I can hear your heart beating, just slightly across from mine, trying to connect and be together. I don’t care about what we did before. I don’t care that I ripped open and destroyed your favourite blouse. I don’t care that we scandalously had each other in the back of the theatre. I don’t care that I kissed you… everywhere, down the steps of some old building. I just don’t care about any of that. I do care, to the depths of my very being, about this moment right now. We only have a few chances to feel, to truly feel. Right now, I can feel you, touch you, kiss every inch of you, without even bothering to think about the next few seconds.

Arching your back, just a little, you raise your body, placing me in a situation that I cannot withstand. I don’t want this to end. I never want this to end. But I don’t think I have a choice. Moving, your intense gaze destroying my thoughts, your body embracing the part of me that speaks in a different way, you move so slowly that, again, I lose my breath and also mind. I'm yours. Always. Always will be. A few more seconds, mere moments away, you smile as you understand and damn well know what you’re doing to me. Back and then forth, again and again, building, connecting, taking what you need. Your eyes close, the expression on your face saying all I need to know. The vocal noises becoming my drive, edging me closer, nearing that place we both want.

Neither able to withstand this slow moment any longer, giving in to the desire of two people needing, your hand joins mine and at that moment we both, urgently, completely… slowly… connect.

Click the link below to listen to this blog:
Audio Version

Wednesday, 31 October 2018


The Empress stepped forward, leaving her thrown behind her, the two guards wary but committed to standing perfectly still until called for. Everyone, of course, within the room knew that such a thing would not take place as to cross her would mean certain peril. Samuel, born anew, stood in front of her adorned with the white armour of his new cast. A warrior, of sorts, charged with piecing together his own soul and heart.

The room, with mighty towers of white crystal, spanned upwards for many miles, a bastion of hope, a veritable fortress, of light and courage. Samuel knew that he had crawled here, a month previous on his hands and knees, reaching a place that he’d feared for over 10 years. The struggle, the real struggle, that we all feared, reached within only to crush his resolve and grace. He’d admitted defeat, he’d surrendered, but still managed to find this very sanctuary.

They’d stripped him of his valour, not that he’d had but a squandered amount, tore his thinking into shreds, then placed the commands that he needed. He had fought through the fire of his own mind, his very soul pouring out of him onto the cold, hard, difficult floor, as his eyes witnessed the very fire within flicker, fade, then die.

They say that you have to sacrifice everything, your very mind, before re-building a tower upon which to rise. He didn't want to rise, he didn't simply want to stand, as he wished to soar amongst the clouds. He desired to embrace the very person he should be, could be, if only he’d open himself to such brave healing. The world around him, unaware, selfish, brazen with attitude, scolding his way of safety. Laughed at him, denied him, yet all the while witnessing his heart break and wound his very sanity.

Standing, amongst the godly figures of old, he adored his Empress, worshipped her like no other. To him she was his heart, his very glory, the ever-present meaning of his grace and fortitude. He would die for her yet, at the same time, he would live for her as well. To him, to all of them, she had bestowed upon him the very gift of self-love.

Strong, defiant to the world’s grip, he stood staunch, awaiting her presence. With the grace of a feather softly flowing within the wind's embrace, she appeared before him and he fell to his knee. Head bowing, supplication at the ready, she did what she seldom fathomed possible. She reached forward, placing her hand under his chin, lifting his head and beckoned him to stand. He arose, appreciative of her offer, knowing very well that he was finally worthy of such moments.

“My Son,” she said with the softest tone, every word embracing him, “you were made for battle, forged from the inside out, but today you will find no war within. You will leave this place and seek love, firstly for yourself and then for others. You are light within this world.” Each word touched him, caressed his heart, embracing his devotion to such a person that could fashion, from him, a strong creation from such desecrated ashes. He had fallen, he had been crushed, yet still believed in the good of others. He had witnessed such things, he knew such things, while understanding the dark thoughts and suffering all around him.

He had tried to be pure, a beacon, the light flickering at moments, whilst always trying to help others. He held the scars, still etched upon his body, mind and soul. This was his chance, “Thank you Empress,” he replied, taking in the beauty from her loving, caring eyes. He stepped away from her, ready, able, despite still feeling some of the deep wounds inflicted upon him by the days of life.

“My son,” said the Empress, reaching out a hand, “You will have no need of weapons once you leave here. You will evade the darkness… please!”  Samuel, knowing exactly what she meant, placed his sword, his dagger, as well as his shield, beside him. Bowing his head, while smiling, he turned and stepped towards the edge of the realm.  He looked upon the world, below him, wondering, while realising, that this was but the start of many, many moments. His wings flew from within his back, flexing, escaping their captivity, ready to take Samuel upon a glorious journey. This moment, right at this second, the previous days and months flew into his mind. The turbulent fall, the crawl to safety, the weeping within shadows, the calling of names and, most of all, the burning fire that consumed his every thought. He could almost, right there, taste the ashes from where he’d arisen.

He stepped away from the platform, felt the air push into his chest, embracing the fear and flew. Today, upon this very moment, he would be the phoenix and rise again.

Tuesday, 30 October 2018


I tried. I truly, truly tried, then failed. I raised the defences years ago, solidified them, moulded them, only to see them all fall within mere moments of a simply beautiful, little, kiss. I fell away, drifted, only to find that every waking moment wanted me to return to you.

I'm supposed to be the one that escapes such things, easily bruised, cut, but always managing to survive. I've seen all corners of the emotional scale, and I appreciate it all. The heartbroken, the mild heart-breaker, the wisher of love and giver of such affection, that I don’t even know the limits.

You said my name, light the flame, filled my eyes with your splendour and the rest was said and done.  The worlds we lived within, the places we inhabited, crashed together all at once and at a time of such tragedy.

I could love, truly love, forever and a day. I would hold you until my very heart broke away from my chest but that, that type of thing, is simply not allowed. I refuse. I state my concerns against such a thing. It is not for me or for the now. My grace within  this world is kept for the wondrous, the dreamers, the beautifully minded of this existence.

Shielded, shrouded with a mask of smiles and sunshine, I know what’s underneath, sleeping, waiting, denied the chance to surface into the real world. I lack fire, a flame, that moment that truly awakens a person into being. It’s okay, don’t worry, we’re all hiding from something.

Yet, no matter the shields, the capacity to shrug away the words and actions, I still managed to fall. Weakened by circumstance, the moments colliding into each other, I dared to move forward and hold a hand. It was held. It was held by such warmth that something moved within my chest. I ignored the fear, I denied the hope, suffering on so many levels that I couldn't see or even sense what was about to happen.

I fell. The angels wept for me. They prayed for me. They could see me in the dark room, huddled within a corner of my mind, replacing all fears and tears with the thought of you. My mind overpowered me, held me down, striped me of my strength and purpose. I tried. I fought as hard as I could but the damage was already done.

At this time in my life I craved an empress, not a mistress, to embrace my world. I can be all powerful, I can command my own life and actions but for once, for twice, I wanted to hear a commanding voice enliven my world.

But, instead, I landed upon my knees, looking into the stars, realising that all the majestic moments in the world had forsaken me by turning their backs to my plight. Maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be. I had healed, I had been broken. Naked, no longer able to hide behind any fear, as fear itself thrashed me to an inch of my own life. This. This is what makes a person. Do not look away from the demon within you. Face it. Embrace it. Overcome it. This is what I will do.

I can smile, right at this moment, realising the mistakes I've made and said. It’s too late. Truly too late to re-imagine the nightmares digesting my brain and life. What I can do now is wait. What I can do now is seek healing. With no defences left, no failings left to use, I will still crawl to sanctuary. I will never, ever, give up. No matter my state of mind. No matter the loss, the suffering, the moments where all I'm left with is tears and anguish.  I'm alive. I'm beating with my own heart and I will never, ever, give up. I have no platforms to rest upon and neither will I need such things.

You walked through my defences, as low as they were, embraced me, then erased me and the rest is history. No matter the moments that existed, no reason that I can think of to fall away again, I crawl to the gate, I bang upon the door and await my saviour. Today, when I embrace my heart and mind, I will admit, I will loudly proclaim to all who look upon me, then shout as loudly as I can…

“I surrender!”

Friday, 26 October 2018


Day 1.
I woke, feeling different, in a place that I’d never seen before. The new adventure, the scale of things to come far from my understanding but very, very live and real. The sand, in my socks and covering my face, the warmth of the sun ignoring me, this place was my own little island. Picking myself up, weak, rising to rest upon my knees, mind racing, head spinning, the first instinct is shelter and right now, right this second, it’s what I'm going to find.

Day 2.
The shelter, of my own making, created with the rough understanding of survival and fear, helped last night. It’s acceptable, almost passable, but as long as it withstands the next few days it’ll be perfectly fine. I know that I need food, that clear water of life, which is my very next attempt at surviving this creation of my own. I'm not afraid, I'm simply aware, that I'm here and no panic or strife will help. I know that I'm anxious, the anxiety rising within my chest and blood but that’s okay. My body is telling me, informing me, that I need something. But, first, water and food. Without them I will suffer.

Day 3.
Today I learnt how to fish. Four hours. Four entire hours before I managed to catch the smallest little thing imaginable. It was a success, a victory, a moment of brief reprisal to this cold, barren Island I’m on. I know that there’s sunshine, I can see it, feel it, but it refuses to find me at this very moment. It’ll return, it’ll find me, as I'm that kind of person. Beat me, slap my face, say the cruellest things you can, as it’ll not defeat me. Although, I know, that only I can defeat myself.

Day 4.
I found a lone crab today. We played ‘pinch the toes’. It was fun. I laughed. I realised that the world, no matter how dry or desolate, cannot keep someone, anyone, from smiling at the silliest of things. There will always, always be moments, where your grace and fortitude shine through. Even if it’s from something so silly as this. I'm surviving. The fire is there, I know, as I need to cook the fish, but that only appears for as long as needed and then vanishes.

Day 5.
I opened my eyes to feel sore toes today. Mr. Crab must have taken my sleeping to assume that I'm still playing. Each day, waking early, my mind thumps, my mind racing, the never-ending torture of sand consuming the quiet and annoying my nerves. The sand will never, ever win. It cannot. It won’t. Solid ground will be found. Soon. Very soon.

Day 6.
Today I tied a small fish to a thin line of string. I say string as I don’t really know what it was. I waited, not for long, as the Seagull, whom I called Mr. Gill, arrived to take its gift of delight. Hesitant, screaming at the top of its voice, I moved the fish and Mr.Gill displayed annoyance. I'm so silly. I cannot deny this. I love to play. I’ll always be playful. It’s my innocence you see. Still intact, despite a few of the naughty things I've said, as well as done. This is my survival. This is me.

Day 7.
I'm surviving. I'm living. I'm still here, on this Island, this small place of mine. Today I found a phone, with battery life, so I decided to call my friends. They said that they missed me, adored me, loved me and more. It was a blessing, for the smallest of time. Their words fuelling me, embracing me, until the Island returned to its usual whispering winds of never-ending thoughts.

Day 8.
I decided that I needed rescue today. I could use the phone, I could ask another to join me, to become trapped with me, but that wouldn't do. I sat alone, on the beach, the crab minding his own business and Mr. Gill wanting fish. I gathered all of the wood I could find, from the boat that self-destructed sending me here. Fragments. Parts of my mind. Each wooden section a part of a bigger, more complicated picture. I know how I got here. It’s not rocket science, it’s not something far from normal, but now it’s time to realise that I cannot stay forever. That would lead to madness.

Day 9.
I only have a few days to go, creating my new method of transport, surviving each day on the scraps I can keep down, the memories still threatening my sanity. This place, this moment amongst days, is an awakening. I know where I am. I know how to survive. I damn well understand that nothing, absolutely nothing, will stop me from reaching the mainland again. It’s inevitable. It’s just ahead of me.

Day 10.
Another scratch onto the tree, another full day of anxiety within my body. I could almost get used to this, embrace it, create from it, but that simply wouldn't do. I'm one within a million people amongst their own small islands. The sand is now starting to warm. The Island is already changing, allowing me more space. I still refuse to stay here.

Day 11.
The waves, it must have been the waves, that smashed my boat into smithereens. I was standing on a platform, with others, a pedestal of my own making, sailing through this life and one by one, the waves hit me. Smashed me. Yet I ignored them. Kept on going, never looking back, safe on that damn pedestal. Then, one by one, the platforms vanished. All that was left was the crash. Now, right now, I need to create a new platform, without the damn pedestal, that can lead to the only platform I’ll ever need. Me, myself and I. I may want others, but need is something different. Something personal, private, a gift that’s special and only given to one other. I know exactly what I want and I will prevail.

Day 12.
It’s the last day. I refuse to stay here any more. It’s not for me. I'm not this person. I've struggled, been caught completely off guard, my heart exposed, that one too many times and now I’m ready. The reset is on the way. No more sand. I’ll say goodbye to Mr Gill. I’ll let Mr. Crab pinch my toes one more time, then piece together the fragments and treat them to a new understanding. I’ll resolve the cracks. I’ll remove the bruised wood. I’ll seal the exterior and move forward. There’s no way that anything can keep me down for long. I'm too alive. I'm too loving. I'm part of life and that’s what I intend to live.

After all, now that the 12 days are over, I realise that no person, Man or Woman… should ever be an Island.

Tuesday, 23 October 2018


It’s happened again only, this time, it’s to a new level. In all my life, no matter what’s happened, I can honestly say that I haven’t had the worst life in this world.  I have my health, I have my heart and, of course, everyone I meet states that I'm such and such. This and that. Supposedly all good which, of course, I do try.

I'm supposedly the kind of person that will help anyone, with nearly anything, but when it comes to asking for help in return it’s not often something I do. Call it upbringing, call it the small bit of Irish in me (had to get that in), or call it stubbornness, it’s in there. My own Mother used to literally break her back doing what she did so, in a way, that might be where it comes from. If you can do something yourself, you can do it yourself. Single Mothers know what I'm talking about.

Either way, I have friends, I have a very small Family, but there’s a big issue and it has now hit me. Head on. Full force. Knocked me for six. I literally have little idea of what to do now. I am struggling. Really, really struggling… and here come the tears. Now that I'm crying I can probably state that I've cried 20 times today. Yesterday was worse as I cried for longer. The day before the same. The day before that, I could feel my emotions start to appear.

I now consider myself completely broken. No rational thought, no knowledge that I have, even when I stand outside of myself and rationalise how I'm feeling, I simply cannot stop the emotion. It will stop, it has to stop, but I just don’t understand where it’s coming from.

I, right now, feel so isolated and alone it is crippling me. My body is weak, my mind is suffering, with the results being really, really odd at times. There is no happiness inside my head. Nothing. None. It’s gone.  I was just about to release, or at least start, my special project which would make me proud but, sadly, that is on hold. I cannot do it. I've stopped yet still go to work. I take a break, go to an area, then I cry.

I, as above, have Friends. It’s not how it works. If you've lost your Family then you know… you… know. I, like many millions of people, don’t have a Father. My Mother is gone. My Step Father is amazing but why would I burden him? My Sister? We both feel the loss. Partner? I sent her away because I was starting to feel this way. Kids? None.

I was recently reminded how amazing Children can be. An endless source of fun, love, laughter and ridicule. I cannot begin to tell you how my heart felt. Touched is not the word and I felt something missing within me. But that is then and this is now. My head is bombarding me, shouting at me in a loud voice, constantly undermining me, which has come from so many things hitting me at once. No-one should ever place their emotional stability upon the shoulders of another person. It’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s too much.

I have spoken to people, not as much as I could have, as that’s private and no-one needs to hear that sort of stuff. Call this a mid-life crisis. Call this a moment of actual madness. Call it pulling your own rug from underneath you. The trouble with me, or people like me, is that we do have an endless heart. I have affection that could, possibly, cover the entire damn world. I believe in magic (in a sense), I believe that we’re all connected, and I also believe that because I have the heart that I do I can be absolutely stupid. Beyond measure. I will push someone out of my life because I dare not even ask for help. 

I'm a man. I shouldn't have to ask for help. I should just get on with it. What if I had kids? (Then it would be a different story. My life would be theirs. I would cross heaven and hell for them). I am, or feel, completely alone although I know that I'm not. It’s a horrendous feeling that I haven’t felt since the age of 32.

I can go weeks not even speaking to one soul outside of work. I can walk up mountains on my own. I travelled half of Europe on my own. I don’t have an issue being alone. I just have a problem with where to put my grief, my pain, my anger, my heart, my energy and god forgive me for wanting some fire in my damn life.

I have self-destructed. No-one is to blame. Not one person. I simply cannot take being on my own at this point in my life. I am… very afraid and I'm not afraid of ANYTHING.  I have options, but I’d rather push everyone away. This post, this here, is me being as genuine and as honest as a person can be. We are all human. We all have faults, pride, idiotic moments and more.

I know that I have many choices. Some drastic, mostly healing. 

I will always choose healing. Always.

Tuesday, 16 October 2018


Slowly, decisively, his hands moved around to her slightly arched back, his lips one centimetre in front of hers. It was now, would never be never, that things finally started to happen. A week had moved past his eyes, his life moving at the speed of sound, but right now time simply slowed to a perfectly beautiful crawl.

He had desires, needs, wants within the world, which could only, would only, ever be met by a certain type of woman. He desired confidence, strength, that something we all looked for and cherished if found. He wanted to languish a little, to feel his worth suffering in front of such a woman, which is what led him here.

They say things happen when you least expect them to, from nowhere arrives a spectacle, which simple removes one’s heart and replaces it with blind lust and mild fever. It’s okay, it’s accepted, as long as the heart eventually catches up to the scene of depraved destruction. To have, to hold, to delve, to grasp, to admonish, to taste again is all that’s needed within this universe.

We all know it, he knew it, she damn well would know it, that the world did not spin on wealth, cars, houses, or the clothes that we wear. It, instead, spins on the desires of soft skin, of tender lips, of the hips that pleased and lips that whispered certain things in the middle of the day. It’s the wanton feelings, the thoughts of taking, of having, of enveloping happiness within. He wanted, he needed, he would have and that, of course, was that.

His mind flickered through his thoughts, as her hot breath, her shaking body, her glistening eyes, simply played the tune of his song. He lifted his head, looking into her stunning eyes, as his smile appeared, and hands gently unravelled the soft lingerie bow behind her. He didn't wish to rush. Not for a second. There was time. There was always time, for this, to listen, to understand, to appreciate her thoughts expressed by the way they’d move. Together.

She had an incredibly mischievous smile which, of course, was one of the many aspects that attracted him. He didn't want an easy life, a strife less life, as he wanted fire. That fireball, that entered the room with so much energy, that sassy woman, the one that took no crap from anyone, or anything. He wanted the heat, didn't care if he managed to get burnt, as the scars would live within him forever. Life was for living, for taking what you could, when you could, with that one person that kept the fire burning all the way through the night.

He glanced down, as the frail lingerie fell to the floor, his hands returning to gently caress her hips. She was absolutely perfect, for him, no-one else. He could feel the adrenaline rush through his body, as he tried to control himself, obviously failing as she stared into his heavily dilated eyes. Probably, at this point in time, glistening like crazy as his body failed his attempts to remain calm.

So close, still so far, no words required as he knew that he could often say something stupid at such a tender time. The early moments, the flattering comments, the honest intentions and more simply wanting him to be with her. Not just for this moment, for the other moments, the many moments and future. He wanted to wake, in the middle of the night, months from now, filled with desire and feelings for her. He wanted to kiss her shoulder, he wanted to please her at every single moment and, above all, kiss her whether she needed to be kissed or not.

He gave in, he finally threw away his restraint, cast aside any small doubt of being able to resist, thus stay away from her. He didn't even remember why he wanted to waste time on such endeavours.  Gently pressing his lips to hers he felt her soft skin. So soft. So unbelievably soft beyond words. His body instantly responded as they moved with ease. He could kiss this damn woman forever, if this moment was any indication for the future. His hands moved, one holding her lower back and the other rising to press her against him. Her chest, meeting his, sending even more desire into his blood. If he were any other man, he might be overwhelmed by this moment, the crashing animal desire pushing to have, to take, but he wasn't that man. He knew what would happen, he knew that there was time to take, never to hasten, as there would be other moments for such frivolous quick natured physical enactments.

Instead, trying to involve his head, his heart, his body, and possibly soul into such things, he allowed a small amount of lust to rest within him. The wall, behind them, was met as he lifted her. Her legs wrapping around his waist, tightly. His arms let go as he grasped her hands, sending them outwards, both pressed against each other, his hips arched forward to keep her exactly where she was. He tasted her again, her lips breaking down any defences he knew that he’d kept in place. Each longing kiss forcing him into a harder situation, a place that he surely wished to reside.

Finally, longingly, he gave in as he let go of her hands, placing one arm behind her back to steady her, taking her over to the bed. The beautiful sheets met their bodies as he placed her down. Kissing, feeling, his hands where they needed to be, he heard and watched as her lips opened, the slight moaning escaping from her body. He wanted this, needed this, had waited a lifetime to have his desires met. He wasn't that complicated, as his body and mind were still that of a simple man, a physically strong man, a man filled with desire for many, many things.

He lifted her left leg, as his lips kissed, tongue playing, as their eyes met. He smiled, as her face simply stated that it was time for him to have her. Slowly, the tip of his tongue moving from the top of her leg, all the way down, he met her desire and… .

Monday, 15 October 2018

Various 01

Here are some of the posts that weren't finished or I decided not to post. (Please ignore the errors)

In life we have these things called good days, bad days, sensible days and, of course, loving days. Each of them, every second, no matter the trials and tribulations, are ever so precious. Those moments, the valuable seconds, all to be remembered and smiled upon.

Then, within those seconds, there’s you. Beautiful, stupendous you, marvellously complex you. It’s ever so easy, daunting, a task within itself, to be surrounded by the pure fireball of thought that’s you. You alone, just you, are what makes the world tick that little bit easier.

No matter the compliment, no matter how obvious my eyes make the words seem, there’s the constant denial that you’re not perfect. You call, you state, you cry, you get cross, exclaiming that you have real faults but I declaim otherwise. Those supposed faults are you, making you the person that you are. The real person. Imagine a world full of perfect people, for a few seconds, then realise how boring and silly that world would be. The scars of life, the memories, the small little motions, make you absolutely perfect to someone such as myself.

Each time you speak, whatever words arrive from your heart, I cannot help but want to kiss you, hold you and more.

The day fades, the voices fall away, that congestion of thoughts and vehicles vanish to allow the clarity of relaxation invade your thoughts. This is the moment, the second, another hour before I finally allow myself to escape the living world. I’m going to dream and, for the many hours, I’m going to dream of you and only you.

Maybe we’ll fly, maybe you’ll fade into the backdrop of my colour filled adventure, or hopefully, we’ll endeavour to stay forever while holding hands. Flying as fast as the wind will allow, hands touching the long grass, feeling the dream against of hearts and minds. Either way, whichever way, it’s with you and that’s what’s right.

Ever closer, the words and thoughts starting to drag, a few seconds more and I’ll finally fall. Fall for you, fall into the void, the ever-present imaginary world of our own making. This time we’ll be floating upon the softest candy filled creation, the place where sweet wishes are made. Maybe not, maybe you’d prefer to be somewhere else.

The room I’m sitting in is very small, possibly the smallest room that I’ve ever been in, despite being here many, many times before. This room, unlike your room, is my very own mind. It’s quiet, deftly quiet, the kind of quiet that people spend their entire lifetime trying to find.

Normally I wouldn’t be in here, at this moment, as I’d be out there, doing things and probably smiling. It’s a shame, a tragedy, as I once again reside within the nothingness of not actually knowing what I’m going to do. To others being lonely is a horrendous feeling, cutting, suffocating, while still carrying on with their lives. For me it’s all about moments. I’ll be perfectly fine, with no emotion at all, then a wave of overpowering feelings will strike me down wherever I am.

I know, I know, it’s odd to hear a man state such things but it’s all true. You’re beautiful, amazing, stunning in so many ways. Ego aside, all defences down, I could happily admit that to the entire world without hesitation. Heck, without you, I don’t even have that ego to set aside if you’re not in my life.

I was wandering around in the world, stumbling, replicating the same old same old day in, the same day out. My purpose wasn’t directed, wasn’t focused, until that one solitary day that everything changed. I was there, sitting there, taping away on a keyboard at the usual café of choice. The obvious beverage being ingested in order to concentrate on the words, those words, that simply failed me the moment you appeared.

I can play it cool, aloof even, but something broke within in, something melted, reducing me to a heart beating idiot that couldn’t find those words. Me, this guy, the smooth façade failing right when I needed it most. You did notice my slight stare, the awkward moment with my mouth slapping against the floor. It happens, it can happen.

Composure regained control and I continued to tap away at the keyboard and, as you asked for directions to such and such a place, with the answer not appearing, I quickly searched and found the place you were looking for. A quick conversation, a couple of laughs later, maybe even a long held smile, we sat together and exchanged world ideals. We ridiculed everything, laughed at the world at large, reminiscing about what has been, had been, would be.

It was a beautiful moment, a bonding of two strangers, the kindness flowing between us and the world. I knew that I could stare at you all day but that would have been rude. I even told you so. You replied that I could, that I should, that I would be allowed to do so later on a proper date. I accepted, picked the date and time, with the rest being history.

The thing about beauty, that we both knew, is that no matter how beautiful the external seems the internal beauty can abolish any of those tempting smiles. Beauty needs to be all the way through to the core and, between us, we had enough beauty to raise the world to a new and exciting place. There’s that ego again, jumping in, making me say silly things. Match a 5 to a 10 and you get 15.

There’s something wrong, within me. It’s been slow to form, over a couple of years, but I know that it’s there as I can feel it getting stronger and stronger. It’s that old friend, anger. Not to be confused with your long lost friend loneliness or any of the other negative emotion. I might use the word negative but, at times, anger might not actually be as negative as we believe. It can fuel a person, fire them into a frenzy of action and as long as that action is positive, then fair enough.

I’m not an angry person. At all. Not even remotely. But once angered it boils. With me there’s two types. Type one is the cold instant logical anger where I literally blow my top while still remaining completely rational, sane, but with venom in my instantly calculated words. The other is the slow kind. Creeping, undermining, placing me into situations and those thoughts that simply do not belong. We’ve all been angry, we’ve all lost it, but this isn’t me. Never has been.

I could list a few reasons for being angry, or feeling the bubbling undercurrent, but maybe it’s just as simple as turning a tap. Things build in life. The crisps down the side of your car seat. Your electric bill. Taxes and more. Instead of going on and on and being all super-duper intense, using long words that even I don’t understand, I’ll find a solution.

The last time I was angrier than Superman with no clean pants, all those many, many years back, I turned to beating a bag with my legs, knees, elbows and fists. It did wonders. It also meant blood, sweat, shouting, chewing of biscuits and more. It was amazing. An actual outlet for anger. When I wrote the Angel blog post (Which I’m sure that you’ve read. Haven’t you?) I could literally imagine every single moment. Every fist, punch, blade impact and more. It’s intense stuff writing. You have to be in the right mode, the appropriate mood, so maybe I should channel this new anger into multiple avenues. There’s also the gym but that’s normal.

The reason why I’m writing this, other than to get views, reads, free crisps (But not from the side of your car) as well as opening up a little, is that we all have emotional stuff going on. Maybe not. Hopefully not. But if you do what is your channel of expression?  How do you vent or release? It’s important to never, ever, keep certain emotions locked inside. Sure, we don’t want people going nutso if they don’t get their double espresso latte supreme mocho dairy free with flake, cream and pom poms coffee, but we should find sensible, safe methods of rescue.

Have a think. What emotion is currently starting to control you? What can you do to stop it. Heck boredom might even be an emotion which means that we should find something to cure that.

Happy hunting (Not literally).


We've all heard and seen that character of immense power, the pants over the trousers, the flying faster than a bullet superhero. He’s strong, fast, quite intelligent and, at the same time, has a fallible heart that simply wants to care. It's his ultimate weakness. Not the kryptonite, not magic, it's his heart that can destroy him.

Although leaping a building in a single bound, could be seen to be very impressive, in the real world such things are not possible. A mere man, of flesh and crushable bone, is nothing even close to the super man above. Maybe. Possibly. Who knows.

Men are born kicking, screaming, moaning about the lack of a remote control by their bed and more. We’re ever so cute, saying a few words, thus starts the journey to mandom (Not actually a word).  We’re full of bravado (Another word could be used), beating of chests, with words such as ‘brah (We wish)’, ‘dude’, ‘mate’ and all the other words involved with men being men. Banter.

Then, suddenly, we realise that life isn't just about dudes, women’s bits, having a beer, fighting with bears, wing men, silly dance music (Boom, boom, boom ohhh yeeaaah) and other ‘man’ things. It’s far more. We’re suddenly thrust (don’t be rude) into the real world. With nappies, late nights, early mornings, the tears, the tenderness, the arguments, the love making, the ever-changing landscape of young minds and far, far further than we might currently know.

Life arrives for all of us. Men, at some point, do need to grow (‘up?’), to shape themselves into a new person. Responsibility is a beautiful thing. Rewarding. That responsibility, of course, also involves accepting that we can make mistakes. It happens. Oh, it happens. A man making a mistake? Never, ever. Can’t happen. No way. I deny such things. I jest. One of the earliest, as well as biggest, things to come to terms with is admitting that you’re wrong. You can fail. You can make mistakes. The admittance, the difficult part, is accepting and then apologising. Even when it might not be all your fault.

Say it isn't so? It is, sorry, I apologise, but it is. Me personally? My fault is being far too caring. (Don’t laugh). It’s not a flaw. It’s perfectly natural to have a good heart. I say good but often, when thinking about it, it’s really a very stupid heart. It never learns, it hardly ever adapts, then goes blindly rushing in. Not at all times, as I can be selfish (Oh no, really?).

I suppose that’s what being human is about. Admit the weaknesses, construct for them, resolve for them, adapt where you can, improve and apologise to people as well as yourself. Men are not perfect (Stop laughing) but we’re now living in a world where men don’t really know what they’re supposed to be. I'm from the years long gone so my values are engrained within me. Be kind, be charming, care, use kind words, never attack, resolve, compromise and love. That doesn't make me soft, as I can and will stand up for what I believe in. All of my decisions are based on what I know which means, when compromising, that compromise depends on the situation, what I understand, and the details explained to me. That’s the important part. Listening to another person’s point of view. It can make all the difference.

One of the biggest failures of men, of man, at times myself, is that we don’t listen. When it’s time to listen I really, really do listen. I have to listen. You must listen to the opinion and thoughts of the people that you care about. It’s vital, critical, the tools required for that operation that can heal or harm.

Anyway, ranting done, it’s time to conclude in some random fashion that wraps everything up nicely. Oh the joy of writing where you attempt to get the/a point across.

Although I know that I cannot run that fast, or leap a mighty building, or bend iron bars with my small finger, I realise that I'm never going to be a superman. Never, ever, not even once. But then I step away from that thought. I compromise, I rationalise my thoughts, digest further information and conclude. Superman’s greatest weakness is his heart. He is, however, proud of such a thing. Everyone knows his weakness, his enemies aware, his friends, his loved ones and more. Even his dog knows. He’s never going to change. The writers will never change that.

So, to finally conclude. I share something with Superman, which all men should share and that weakness, which is also his greatest actual strength, is his fallible, stupid, gigantic, ego-less, beating, breaking and loveable heart.

In such things, I might even hint, that I'm a Superman (Stop laughing).

Friday, 12 October 2018


Daniel placed his bag onto the side table, just after inspecting it for dust or stains. He was that type of person, methodical, precise, unwavering in the depths to which he would inspect certain things. Possibly an obsessive-compulsive person but, getting him to admit that, would never be forthcoming.  The table, clean, in order and as it should be, would thus comply with his requirements. Some would say that he was an odd person but others, those close to him, would trust him with absolutely everything. Their lives, their fortune, their misery filled conversations and more.

The room, as he glanced at the various fittings and colours, was somewhat stale and drab. Possibly due to the number. That number many feared for some unknown, odd, silly reason. To him numbers meant nothing, other than to calculate of create statistical odds and ends. To others they meant everything. He’d read many books, old and young alike, with the older books fixated with old wife’s tales and furious notions of other realms and fantasies. He, however, believed in what he could see, touch and experience.

Daniel, looking serious, walked around the bed to where the chair sat. A large room, three main areas, with the usual bathroom tacked alongside the bedroom. The chair wasn't as light as he’d liked but, being honest with himself, it probably wasn't supposed to be moved. He could see that, from the carpet indentations, as he tilted the furniture to make it easier to drag. He knew that the cleaner would wonder what on earth he was doing but, by then, he would be long gone.

The chair, sat directly between rooms, straddled the middle of his hired space. Out of breath, by just a little, he walked over to the usual complimentary snack and tea area, opening a bottle of water to quickly quench the thirst growing within. That thirst. That gloriously gaping thirst that consumed him four years previous, hardly a thing for a small bottle of water to resolve, but nonetheless this was why he was here.

Forgetting his usual ethic of cleanliness, he wiped his lips against the cuff of his suit jacket, aware, knowing, of what he must now do. It had taken the four years to reach this place, the study, the absolute acuity of success, which meant that even if he weren't ready, it was now or never. He’d wished ‘never’ hadn't found him. He wished a lot of things. But the wishes were never, ever, answered.

He balanced himself on the chair’s arm, wondering if he really should do what he was about to do, but such talk was fool’s talk. Images flashed into his mind, exploding, ushering his calm into a state that he despised. He hated losing control. He tried to ignore the impulses of life but after the events, all those years previous, he’d be damned if anyone, or thing, would get away with what they did.

Gaining strength from the hurtful images, his mind spinning, he fell into the chair and started to relax. He’d prepared, he’d practised to a point, even tried on multiple occasions, but failure ensured knowledge and this was the absolute place for such things. He closed his eyes, breathing in, in such a way to control his heart, eventually feeling the calm and control take control of him. Such things were not allowed within this place, his world, any more.

With calm, he started. He tensed his back, feeling all the nerves within his spine tingle. His mind started to mimic his spine’s power. He started to feel the heat and, just then, began sending out the pure hatred within his mind. All his negativity, all the pain, the remorse, the hatred within his very blood, escaped his body as his aura reached out into the room. He knew that it might take a while, seeing as such things were not omnipresent, so the books proclaimed. He, however, believed that such things were everywhere. Within hearts, infecting minds, leeching from souls and within every single creation.

As his body pulsed, sending forward such energy that the room, if alive, would run from him, he felt the change almost instantly as the voice appeared.
“How did you find me?” it asked. Daniel would smile, if the rage within allowed such things, but this moment was not for any such thoughts or motions.
“The thirteenth state, the thirteenth street, on the thirteenth floor within the thirteenth room, how could someone not find such a thing!”
“Clever,” came the reply with such a vicious, dripping, vile voice, “What do you want?”

Daniel grasped the seats' arms, fingers turning white as his grip tightened to abnormal levels. He wanted it to suffer, to pay, to feel the emptiness of life as everything is taken from you. He wished for things to return to normal, but he couldn't. That day was gone. Today, on the other hand, was the thirteenth and he had all the power he needed. “Show yourself!” he commanded with a strength he’d not normally be known for.

As his eyes scanned the room, head turning to see each corner, the figure materialised in front of him. A red mist, with eyes. A spectre of immense power and fortitude. He knew that the form varied from one myth to another but this form, more than likely, was the real form not often seen. It must have felt relaxed, that he was of no threat, which he knew might actually be true. Now was the time to forgive himself, to let go of the pain and punishment that had tormented him for the years gone by.

The entity approached, looking at him through its burning red eyes. Daniel had no idea of its thoughts, its motives, or why it even existed, other than to torment. “Do you know why I’m here?” he asked with defiance and as much courage he could find. The study, the tests, the scholars and Holy men’s advice were, of course, not even remotely suitable to face such things. His calm and resolve, on the other hand, were more than enough. If he died on this very day he would be more than happy as he knew who was waiting for him.
The thing, silent, eventually spoke, “You’re here because I took something from you.”
“Yes, you did!”
“…and why should I concern myself with you? I have taken many at their time.”
“It wasn't their time!” spat Daniel with venom.
The entity moved closer, the rage intensifying its eyes to a new shade of red, “How dare you assume you can tell me anything. I shall have your soul!”

Pressing himself into the chair, Daniel could feel his chest start to hurt, the spectre doing exactly what he’d hoped. His soul, his very essence, was being taken from him. He knew that time would then be short, a quick slide to the bottom of life before dying of illness. He didn't wish for this to happen, but he’d held on as long as he could. He’d watched his Wife and Daughter leave the world in such odd circumstances that he needed an answer, and this was what he was looking for. He’d read that humanity were food, a form of energy to these things and, right now, he wasn't about to let that happen.

The force against his chest intensified as the Demon continued to try and take his soul but, as he knew, he’d prepared. For those four years he’d planned, discovered, realised so much about the hidden world, that the sacrifice would be worthwhile. He closed his eyes, concentrated and started to use his greatest rescue. His mind. The demon paused, for a brief second, wondering what was happening but it was too late.

“Where is your soul?” it asked with complete confusion. Daniel opened his dark eyes, smiling, using the intense pain and suffering of the memories to his advantage.
“I gave my soul away to help another. That means there’s an empty space. Care to join me?”

He wasn't a man that made jokes, full of bravado, but there was always room to expand his personality. His spine still pulsing, every nerve fibre in his body acting as a powerful conductor, he could feel his metaphysical chest opening to expose the bodies soul chamber. Vacant, absent, empty from rescuing a small child from evil’s clutches, he jerked his head back against the chair, closing his eyes, then started to scream. The Demon moved forward, into him, concatenated, to be encased once inside.

He concentrated, continuing to use every single ounce of his strength, as the Demon completely entered him, his soul cage closing behind. Gasping for breath, the ordeal finished, he felt something within him, empty for days, suddenly becoming whole again. He knew not what the effects would be, what would happen after this day, but as long as that thing remained trapped and away from causing unnatural, painful deaths of loved ones, he would gladly endure his new life.

His breathing eventually relaxed, sweat pouring from his skin, he looked within himself to feel the soul squirming. It wasn't quite ready to surrender, but he had time. His fingertips let go of the chair, finally, as he felt the odd sensation of power within him. He carried his soul since the very first day of his creation, yet he knew not what to do with it. Now, on this very day, he held within him a soul of a different kind. A dangerous kind yet, for some reason, he wasn't sated. He wanted more. He knew that there were others and, right now, he was ready to move forward.

Today might have been the thirteenth day, on the thirteenth floor, the street, the state, but he immediately made the decision that one wasn't enough. He wanted to devour all thirteen and that’s exactly what he would do.