Phoenix

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.

Surrender

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!”

Island

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.

Healing

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.

Need

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… .

Various 01

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

You.

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.

Dreams.

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.

Alone.

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.

Beauty.

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.

Anger.

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).

Superman

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).

13th

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.

Nothing

This morning I awoke to feel nothing. The silence overshadowing everything within my life. I've been here before, many times, a few times, more than that, depending on the second or minute you ask my mind what’s right. Or wrong. A lot of wrong. Some right. Either way, despite the circumstance, what will be is just that.

You've heard plenty of sayings, the memes of life, the instructions that hardly no-one follows despite always agreeing but me, I, this person here, doesn't believe that if it doesn't kill you, you’re made somewhat stronger. We seldom learn from mistakes unless, for the moments where we hit the rock’s bottom, we realise that we’re our own best, worst, enemy. The evil outside, this world we inhabit, comes from within each of us. We blame, we point, we harass and we send out such stupid hatred that the innocent within corrupts. Absolutely.

I want to remain open, we must remain open, but life just isn't giving me, or us, the opportunity to heal and move forward with ease. You reach out, to hold a hand, maybe to simply speak, yet our own safety imperative clouds the view of what other’s require. We are selfish, I thoroughly admit this, to you and every single person out there, with the caveat that I actually do not wish any other person harm.

So what is this feeling, or lack of, that’s growing, or dying, within. It’s that safety feature. It’s within each of us. It stops me feeling, caring, wanting to give a damn, for any other person. You know what I mean. You've probably been there yourself, scratching at the walls of your own mind, asking for rescue and seeking the assistance of another. In the end, when we have done what we've said, we know that realistically we are our own rescue.

What can someone else provide for you? If you’re mentally strong, to a point, you know that involving others into your own sordid recovery is best left alone. If you’re mentally broken, damaged, smashed into small bits, then seek help, involve the correct people, the official people, but until then, recover your own way.

Maybe this is all normal. Maybe I need to repeat those words to myself.  We all need to revert to being a caterpillar at various points of our lives, we do, as long as we eventually return to being a butterfly. I need this transition. We need to do this yet, for some reason, we do see far too many caterpillars out there within this world.

Last night I could feel the doors closing. Slowly, With purpose. I don’t like the feeling, I don’t relish the lack of emotion, but within all of us there’s a thing called a heart. Or a soul. Or our mind. Depends on what we believe, what we understand. Me, I, this person here, realise that it’s all within my mind but the young starry-eyed fool wants the three to be separate. I want to think with my mind, love exclusively with my tremendously caring heart and, finally, embrace you with my soul. Or, in other words, just hold your hand. Such a simple thing yet it’s absent from so many hearts/minds/souls of this land.

I'm not going crazy, as I'm rationally looking within myself, testing, knowing, realising the emotional state that’s happening. Learn this. Hold this. Understand yourself. Avoid the outbursts of pure emotion. We’re no longer children, in ways, able to discern the complexity of the words and thoughts that threaten our stability and poise.

This morning I awoke to feel nothing. The silence being a long-forgotten friend of mine. We chatted, for the smallest of times, exchanging notes concerning how things have changed over the years. I am more mature, I have grown, refined the processes ingrained and defined from outside assistance. It’s amazing to feel, or not feel, the change. We can learn, we can protect ourselves. Believe in your own minds capacity to run for safety, to heal, to become something stronger. I do, despite the process, so see you on the other side of safety. The other side of feeling… nothing.

--------------------

Please remember that, unless stated, blog posts are works of fiction. (With a sprinkle of experience)

Decorum

The app finished installing, the circular notification ending, signalling for her to start the process. Slightly nervous, the apprehension momentarily making her mind wonder if what she was doing was correct, but that quickly moved away. She was ready and, being honest, it was about time.

Sick of the way the world handled itself, the way she’d been treated, it was now or never and by the heavens above, if she couldn't meet the man she wanted, she’d darn well make him instead. Pressing the small icon, the app launched. The screen changed colours a few times, the usual adverts appearing, quickly being ignored, to then settle onto the main view.

Glancing around the screen the options were sparse, almost too simple, but that would suit her just fine. Clutter be gone, simplicity being favoured, she clicked the very large start button that sat just below the usual company logo. The words flew into view, the welcome screen, disclaimer, legal jargon and then the meat of the event arrived. In front of her sat two images, tagged, simply with the words ‘male’, or ‘female’. She paused for the briefest of seconds, wondering, but pressed the ‘male’ button.

She watched the screen change, selecting her desired height, build, complexion, hair, body hair and more. The physical aspects, now being quite important to her, despite surviving a few body shapes that filled her with less desire than she’d like, but it, to her, wasn't all about that. She shook her head, realising that this was an opportunity to not bull crap herself. She could have her cake, the biscuit, the whole damn fridge and by the heavens she would do just that. She clicked the option for a muscular man, defined, by not too big as he’d have to get through doors and not stop to look at himself in shop windows. She was going for a certain look, a desirable look, that complimented her instead of him being the focus of friends or family.

Sure, she could admit it, she wanted to be ever so slightly selfish. After all of them, the liars, the cheaters, the lack of consistency, she’d basically had enough and enough was exactly that. The physical attributes nearly over with, the last screen appeared and she wanted to blush but, instead, her eyes opened that little bit wider. The male anatomy, hardly being the most attractive item in the entire world, was still something she thoroughly enjoyed. At times. When it worked. Or he thought of her needs. Or the many other issues. Too small, too big, odd shapes, she’d experienced a few oddities in her time.

She moved the slider up a few notches, from the average size, to just around eight inches. Comfortable, a good size, something to hold onto, to have, to enjoy and basically do with as she pleased. After all, a woman such as herself simply didn't want to waste time on anything but what she desired. She smiled, even let out a small giggle, as the picture changed size with the slider.

Clicking finish, the page changed to personality. She stared at the options, bemused, wondering if her ideals could ever actually be met, even by a synthetic man. She’d experienced all the hang ups men had. The promises, the words that made her believe, only to feel disrespected, let down, let go of, miss-treated and basically left feeling flat. Or worse. The ones that made her believe that everything was her fault. Manipulation being one of the most disgusting traits above nearly all of them. The lies, the flat out lies. Again, as earlier, she’d had enough of that.

She pressed the buttons, selecting the random words that she approved of, dignity, modesty, correctness, restraint, politeness, tact, gentility, etiquette, the good manners of life and, pressing the one word harder than the rest, respect. She needed to be respected. She wanted respect. No lies. Just love, being treated as she deserved, which in return would be met with her own love and affection. She didn't want the world, she didn't expect everything, but a damn man to hold her in the few moments where the world had left her cold and feeling vulnerable. It wasn't too much to ask.

She pressed the accept button, being met with accent, hovering over Scottish, Irish and well spoken. She’d pick all three if she could so, in a moment of madness, she did. Hopefully she’d understand anything spoken to her but, right now, with what she was wearing, she was ready for something a little more ‘silent’ than speaking. A woman wants what a woman wants and, right now, it had been far too long to bother with anything other than her desires.

Pressing the final button the project window summarised all of the specifications, with a slight outline of the person to the right of the summary. The project could be saved, just in case anything happened to the replica, which she named, ‘Decorum’. This very word, the very ideal of such things, was what she wanted most in the entire world. She pressed the start button and, over in the corner, the printer started to create her ideal man.

The seconds moved, her insides feeling fluttery, the nerves bouncing around within her, as the door smoothly moved to the side and out stepped her perfect man. He smiled, a great big smile, looking straight towards her, seemingly knowing exactly what to do. Walking over, fully naked, his body fresh and clean, he knelt in front of her, his lips inches away from hers. “Hello,” he said, with the sexiest voice she could have possibly ever heard, “Can I kiss you?” She nodded, moving a hand around his waist, as his lips pressed against hers. His warmth, soft skin, embracing her as she let go of the tablet. The final thought before her head started to escape the world, was the word decorum and, right now, that’s what she deserved.

Birthday 2

Jaden pushed the craft that little bit further. The frictionless aura of space allowing such things, pressing forward, racing as the young at heart often did. His Sister, Sophia, laughed through the intercom as her craft edged that little bit further. Weight, no matter how distributed or presented, was still weight no matter the circumstances.

The Nebula, now filling the entire void in front of them, displayed the intense colours that one would never think existed within space. Their time, their moments, filled with intense views that most could only dream of. Jaden relaxed the throttle a little, returning to a gentle coasting speed, as he admitted that he’d lost the race. Again. It didn't matter as, with all things, it was taking part that counted.

“I won again Brother!” she goaded.

“Oh look outside, to your left, it’s your ego filling space.”

“J, e, a, l, o, u, s spells jealous!”

“Over, out, begone wicked child”

With a smile across his face, the Nebula filling his eyes, he watched as his Sister flew to the far left of his destination. A spectacle such as this in front of them took time to map and, between them, they’d be here for at least four hours. Drifting slightly to his right he pressed the button that, once again, released the drones. The tiny crafts flying away at speed, mapping, monitoring, sensing any changes since the last time they’d been here.

Relaxing into the seat, wondering when, or if, he’d ever get a chance to try the Corsair class space vessels, he grumbled to himself. The Viper was an amazing bundle of technology, adaptive, responsive, able to withstand immense climbs and spins, but the Corsair, let alone the Valkyrie class, was where it all started to get very, very serious. Combat, albeit no longer required, was what they’d both trained for. Youngsters with responsibility above their chosen task.

He knew that space should be dangerous, could be dangerous, as no matter what they’d discovered, there had to be more out here than they realistically knew. He moved the thoughts out of his mind, choosing, instead, to simply enjoy the view. The radio crackled once again, “Brother, grid D70, the drones cannot analyse. Having a look!”

“Okay, stay safe.”

The answer arrived from his lips but, straight away, the feeling of seriousness arrived. In all of their time out here, the many, many months, nothing had triggered the drones before this very moment. He glanced across, to his left, the glass instantly magnifying his view to where his Sister’s craft rested. He could see her pressing specific buttons. She looked relaxed, enjoying her work but, at that very second, he noticed a slight change within the space in front of her. It was a space mollusc. Not immediately dangerous, but large, very, very large and on a normal day not hidden.

He screamed into the radio but it was too late. These creatures rested for months, fading into the background of space like some type of chameleon. There wouldn't normally be an issue, as he’d just thought, but she was far too close. It phased into view, tentacles smashing into her craft, ripping it into sections and ejecting her into space, unconscious. The pure, raw, coldness of space.

A second escaped him, frightened, a momentary lapse of fear infecting him. The second moved into the next and he snapped out of the fear, taking control again. Thoughts ravaging, thumping his mind into action, discovering the options in front of him. “Craft,” he shouted, “Voice control!” The craft responded with a beep. “Expand craft to two seats!”  The craft started to expand to allow two pilots, as he pressed the small concealed button that enveloped him within his suit, to protect him from space. “Eject!”

Within a second he was outside, the craft sealing again. He focused across to his Sister, his Heads Up Display calculating her speed and drift. “Craft, enable Near Sight. Go!” He kept his eyes on his Sister, each calculation as important as the next. The craft below changed, moved into the square that he’d seen many, many times, then, within another second, blipped from one destination to another.

All he could do was watch as the craft appeared around his Sister. This had never been tested, let alone thought of, before this very second. He had no choice, no other rescue and, truthfully, he was absolutely scared out of his mind. The life monitors appeared on his H.U.D, with a sigh of relief escaping, as his Sister was safely inside. He barked another command as his focus continued to concentrate, “Life support!” He could see the readings and he hoped, he truly hoped, that she had the second to expel the oxygen from her lungs. If she did she’d have a chance. The small thrusters, built into his suit, engaged and the slow crawl, towards his ship, began.

Looking to his left he viewed the mollusc move away. He didn't blame the creature as instinct was instinct, but he did wish that they could detect them instead of the fumbling they often did. From this point forward, no matter the instance, the drones would always, always, inspect cases such as these.

Nearing his craft, that had now fully exited ‘Near Sight’, he grasped the rear, placing a foot onto a wing, enabling the magnetic shoe lining. Swinging around to the front he looked inside, half expecting his heart to explode, his nerves literally being beaten. Instead, as his tears started to escape, a smile appeared across his face as he caught sight of his Sister, safe and recovering, also smiling.

“Hey Brother,” she said with a broken, exhausted voice, “Thanks for the assist!”

“You do that again and… I’ll save you again.”

She’d laugh, he knew she would, if she could. Instead he would now sit here, outside, once again enjoying the view and uncertainty of space as she healed. He has his family with him, in his heart and, above all, he knew that they’d do absolutely anything to protect each other. Life was beautiful, despite existing often being arduous, but no matter the second, the time, the moment, they had each other and that was the most precious thing within the world. He laughed at the thought and corrected himself, “within the universe!”

“Happy Birthday to me!” he whispered to the great void.

Birthday

He heard nothing, sealed within the flight cage of the Viper, hurtling towards the canyon at speeds of over four hundred miles an hour. Sure, he knew, that he could crank the dial all the way to Mach 7, but that wouldn't be fun as he’d miss everything within his gaze.

The idealistic view cascaded in front of his eyes. He’d never seen so much colour. The abundance of beauty, all around, as he slowed to sixty miles per hour. Leaning to his side, taking in absolutely everything, the wondrous view, right there for all to see. The Earth had basically become something different, but this place, this exact place, was truly something else.

They’d found the vortex, the maelstrom void, around 60 years previous to this very day. One day, nothing, then from nowhere it appeared. That was all now history, the stories told to children, but this place, this very place, would be held in history forever.

Once through the portal humanity found wreckage of some long-lost culture, a race far more advanced in technical knowledge than themselves. But, as fortune would have it, not so advanced for the Human Race to easily de-construct the inner workings of a levitation drive. It transformed everything. The Earth, finally free from combustion engines, the burning of fossil fuels, providing the slimmest chance of a rescue for what was nearly thrown away.

We’d survived, thrived, held out a hand to the stars that accepted all of us without question. We’d learned about the many races, all now died away while we, for some reason, being the last of the many. We built mighty vessels, travelling the stars, becoming the very specs that could actually move mountains.

One moment, one chance discovery, changed everything. Jaden comforted himself, smiled, as the history of things flew through his mind. He was one of the lucky ones. Zero G accustomed, able to handle the most intense speeds, which meant that he’d excelled at almost every section of training. Then again, he wouldn't call training for the unknown, training that prepared him for being thrust towards a mountain by accident, or escaping the largest asteroid hurtling through space at insane speeds, training.

His Sister, on the other hand, excelled at the small areas that he seemingly failed. His equal, his actual mini nemesis, but loved all the same. She was currently on the other side of the planet, doing exactly what they both loved and adored. Exploring. Discovering. Like butterflies bouncing from one planet to the next. Jaden pressed a button and the 50, or more, drones dropped from his craft as he, once again, cranked the speed a little. He was so used to seeing green. Trees, plants, even flowers, in the museums that he’d visited. Here, right now, he could see pure pastel colours everywhere.

Bright red, yellow, light purple and more. The colours of a new planet. A new beauty. Moments like this filled him with awe, his eyes widening, as he realised how beautiful everything could be if he’d only look. No matter the devastation of Earth, the way of things, he could still envision growth, a rescue, a new path and idealistic view.

The radio crackled, only to clear as his Sister’s voice spoke with such clarity despite being over fifteen thousand miles away. Technology, when done right, really could make things better. “You have to get yourself over here right now!”

“Why?” Jaden replied with an inquisitive voice.

“Just shut up and crank the dial! Out.”

“Copy, out!”

Strapping himself down, voice confirming the destination, the head restraint moved into place as he pressed the throttle forward. Without hesitation, zero resistance despite the slightly increased gravity compared to Earth, the craft flew forward at an immense speed. It would take, roughly, 3 hours to travel the fifteen thousand miles, give or take a few minutes, but he had something that hadn't been used, for awhile. The matter displacement drive. With every journey there would be a destination and, right now, he could project that location to within 1.3 millimetres. It wasn't bending space, or time, but more of a relocation of matter from here, to there. In an instant.

It was, of course, an emergency feature only meant for emergencies. One wrong second, a breath out of place, could result in a cracked craft, arm or even skull. He usually didn't take chances but today, this very day, he felt lucky. Slowing to a near instant stop, internal dampers straining, he slammed his fist against the red dial that featured the word, “Emergency!”

The craft started to change, from its triangular frame, into more of a square, as the spinning started. Multiple clamps embraced his body, held him, as everything turned dark and then, nothing. The relocation process was something to be witnessed. Utter silence, darkness, as every single atom, every cell, each speck of blood, moved from one location to the destination. This, right now, would have been the second time experiencing the null feeling. It wasn't often that he experienced this level of silence. Even his heart remained quiet, every thought bearing witness to the silence and then, noise.

The craft arrived at the other side of the planet, shields moving back to their original location, the frame of the craft returning to normal. Jaden glanced at three dials to his left. All three green, all three safe, meaning that his nose hadn't appeared two metres in front of him. He’d heard rumours but, being young, didn't pay much attention to this or that.

As the restraints allowed him to move he accelerated to just over one hundred miles an hour. Coasting, relaxing, breathing after the momentary seconds of silence. It had been dubbed ‘Near sight’ by the techies. A way to travel to a location as if you’re literally there. He still thought that it sounded dumb but, thankfully, it worked so there was that.

His Sister’s craft appeared into view, both slowing, as she appeared to the side of him. “Hey Brother,” she said in a voice that he’d missed, “what’s today?”

“It’s my Birthday, stupid!”

“I know.”

“Is that why I've just flown thousands of miles?”

“Yeah, yeah, You used the ‘Near Sight’ again. You’re going to get into trouble one day!”

“Won’t happen. We’re the best they have and…”

“Don’t care, not listening. I got you a present.”

Jaden immediately stopped talking, as he loved presents, pressing his face onto the polymer graphite cockpit window. He knew that he looked stupid when doing so, but he didn't care. Presents were his thing, “What did you get me, come on, show me! You know how I get!”

“I got you a picture of Mother. Grabbed it from my mind after a long dream. It hurt but it was worth it.” 

Jaden, for a second, felt the sadness rise within him but that didn't last for long, “Thank you Sis, thank you. It is my Birthday and I couldn't think of any other present I’d rather have.”

“I know Bro, I know. Don’t feel sad. Look where we are, look at what we have. We’re healthy, exploring and doing what we love.”

Jaden felt her smile from across the metres between them. He placed a hand onto the window, as did she. “Race you to the Straxus Nebula?” He goaded with a sly voice.

“You’re on… But NO ‘Near sight’. Promise?”

“I promise!” he replied as he fell backwards into his flight seat, restraints already moving, the throttle pressed. As they accelerated to a cruise speed they both watched as the drones returned. The radio crackled once more, “Hey, Bro, It’s also my Birthday today. What did you get me?”

“Just you wait and see Sis, just you wait!”