Breath

She inhaled, slowly, trying to gather control of her emotions. The last few days, weeks, maybe even months, had been so very, very hard for her soul. She often wondered if she had a soul, based on the type of people she attracted.

Pressing the phone power button, she placed the phone onto the small bedside table and relaxed into the bed. Still breathing, still excising, permanently aware of the way she felt. With each breath, she exclaimed prophetic affirmations within her mind. ‘The world gives me energy’, she said to herself, with the next words expelling her negative emotions, ‘Bad thoughts are leaving me’. Again and again, she repeated the mantras.

The pressure, the pain, the anxiety waiting upon the edges of her mind, asking for any reason to invade her sobriety of illegal thoughts. She couldn’t help herself. That blank canvas, the unwritten scripts, the unsung songs, all painted, wrote and screamed their motives to her as clear as the morning sun.

Another breath, as her mind escaped for the briefest second, to his lips. His defying, dangerous, dubiously delicious lips that had kept her up all through many, many nights. He’d teased her, enthralled her desire to the very breaking of her points of view. Reserved, defined, refined, the stoic, level-headed heiress of knowledge and learned understanding. Nothing escaped her view, her thoughts. Defiant until the end, until that person appeared just to the side of her view, stepping through her defences.

All it took, to fall, were carefully placed words and ever so expertly crafted kisses. He’d spoken to each and every single part of her frame, that skin of hers, amongst his sexually riled motives. A smile here, a laughter filled moment there, all wrapped around the most orgasmic feelings she’d ever reproached in her entire life. When one was bored, one would succumb to the wildest excursions ever imagined. It was inevitable, scribed upon her very lust filled breaths.

He’d taken it all. Her vanity, expunged. Her guile, removed. All of her imaginary standings within life, were swept aside in the gust of seeing herself tainted in such a manner. There was no place for dignity when sat upon his lips, as they caressed and encompassed her very wants. She’d never even realised how much she could yearn for someone to be within her.

She threw away the thoughts, cast them to the side, reflecting upon the silence she craved. If such a moment could be purchased, she’d gladly open her purse as quickly as she’d allowed him into her life. She’d exclaim from upon the highest building, that he had not broken her resolve but, of course, that would be a lie.  She knew that it was the same for all of them, no matter which side any of them sat.

She placed her head into her hands, her knees moving to support her elbows, as she rubbed her face. He was, overall, a heartbreaker that knew exactly what he was doing. A beautiful lie. She couldn’t even help herself, as he informed her of no lies. He didn’t cross the communicative barrier of hope and relational glory. He’d just done what he’d done and opened a part of her to a place that she needed to find. It was glorious, a tragic, spectacular series of events.

Exhaling once more, affirming affirmations exclaiming their value, she felt her heart attempt to find rest. She’d be okay. She’d find salvation within her own mind and moments. It was, after all, a learning experience, just like the other moments within her life and right now, all she had to do, was learn to once again breath on her own.

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Illusion

Daniel, fingers tapping on the table, simply looked at the man in front of him. The man was an odd-looking man, with an almost triangular face, his thin pointed chin strutting forward away from his mouth. If anything, Daniel thought that the man belonged in some kind of circus as his act, for one, was most convincing.

“Who are you?” asked Daniel. As he waited for the answer, he reminded himself of the conversation they’d just had. The man, appearing from nowhere, offered him two choices. The man had started to explain about parents. There were, according to this strange individual, two types of parents in the great scheme of things.

The first parent wished for peace. The ever loving, caring, doting parent that simply wanted harmony. The perfect home, the perfect life, the ideal setting and the most pretentious set of circumstances that simply had to be obeyed. The smiles abound, the perfection apparent, until you wanted to do things your way.

The rules were set. Cast in stone. It was their way or no way at all. The wrath incurred ensured obedience; the zero-tolerance apparent from every single word. You had to play nice, be nice, eat the sweet cherry pie and be on time. Every. Single. Time.

The vengeance and scolding venom, upon a day when you veered off track, would ensure that thought and freedom be removed from every single part of a person’s life.

The second parent would value freedom, above all. You could play, hurt your knee and learn from your mistakes. You’d be protected, to a certain point, but above all you’d learn to think on your own two feet. Adaptable, clever, opinions being formed from facts as well as gut feelings. You would be pushed to improve, yet the pushing would come from within your own heart, soul and mind. You would be cheered on, but also hugged if failure rose within your life.

There would be sadness, arising from the bravest of souls, but you’d learn that life would not always feature cherry pie, as the best would be made from any situation. Be that situation good, bad, or the ugly. You would be free. Free to fail, to fall, to prosper or be whomever you would prefer to be.

There would be rules, but rules could sometimes be broken, if your free-thinking mind thought it possible. You could question, you could discuss, without retribution, cancellation or strife.

The two choices, clear as a bell, as free as a whistle. As Daniel’s mind really thought about the two choices, he also wondered why he had to choose in the first place. Both could exist side by side but, as with many things, the more venomous side usually tried to control the other.

The strange man leant forward, whispering his answer, “You all know me. I’m the Beast, the Evil One, The Devil, Lucifer, Satan and my own personal favourite, the Accuser!”

Daniel let out a short chuckle, deciding to play along.

“Okay, fair enough! What happens if I don’t choose a side?”

The Devil smiled an insidiously creepy smile, his decayed teeth suddenly appearing amongst the apparent shine from his evil looking eyes,

“Well, my boy, do you truly believe that you’ve ever had a choice? From the moment you were born, most of your decisions have been made for you. You were born into unknowing servitude!”

Daniel’s head moved ever so slightly to the side, confused, as the man continued.

“No matter what type of parent you are, or which side you’re on, or where your point of view sits, the illusion is making you think that you ever had a choice to begin with!”

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Disorder

Charmeine curled her wings around her body, shielding herself from the night’s cold. Sat, upon the highest mountain, she reflected upon her recent thoughts. She was, for all intents and purposes, the Angel of harmony. The together Angel, the ever-apart Angel, meant to bring people together or, sadly, to tear them apart when the time arrived.

She adored peace and tolerance, the togetherness of two becoming one or, possibly, the chance of harmony within society. She closed her eyes, unable to deflect the sadness within her heart. The Human race was adrift. Mother’s against Sons. Father’s against Daughters. The disharmony of the many minds being twisted for the evillest of intentions.

She was used to healing hearts, soothing the breaks and pains formed within, yet she knew not the way to heal and harness harmony for the current events. Mass Media had, finally, consumed the hearts and minds of the many, controlled by the few that were far between. The Angels were restricted, banned for eternity, from meddling within the affairs of man and yet, somehow, the greatest evil imaginable had crept amongst them as they slept. The spoken word, the written syllable, used of evil incarnations. The pen, once seen as mightier than the sword, had become more powerful than the very soul of a man or woman.

The infection had spread, the cancerous notifications pacifying the weakest of hearts and minds. The human race, the humanity within each of them, secretly wishing for peace. The price, too high. The result, pacification. They had accepted the spoken word without question, the masses chastising the few that questioned. She’d stood within the times of Witches and Warlocks. She’d known the time where any Woman that spoke a word out of turn, would be called a witch and burned to a crisp. This, however, was far, far worse. The cancellation of a human being becoming a fate worse than death itself.

She placed her fingers onto the ground, as the soil seethed and smoked upon her touch. The very surface of the Earth, tainted and poisoned by the years of destruction ravaging the tree lines. The insects, the animals, all cast aside for the ever need for expansion. A new cinema, a new parking lot, or the latest fad to later be cast aside and forgotten. She knew that the earth eventually reclaimed discarded land, the soft soil speaking volumes to her very soul, but the balance had started to tip ever further towards desolation.

The Human Race hadn’t changed over the centuries. The same fears, the same base instincts, the many following the few. She wished to scream, to shout, to smash their houses until they knew real fear. The children held against her chest upon the awakening of their race, had become insolent. Their impudence betrayed their meek and weak-willed nature. They had, for what it would be worth, forgotten how to really suffer.

She stood, her wings unfolding, her eyes glistening to the tune of a thousand sparkling lights from the cities below. She stood, proud, respectful, no longer allowing her own anger and solace to infect her thoughts. They would stand and fall upon their own knees. They would eventually look towards the heavens, weeping tears of pain and sobriety upon their final days.

Her wings moved and, with a gentle hop, she flew into the air with the speed of a thousand jet engines. Hearts called to her, hearts willing to be joined upon a night of unity. This was her task, her ever destiny, upon this universe and emotional plane. She’d known a thousand versions of this place, she’d seen a hundred worlds burn, over and over again. This place, their hearts, had so far stood the test of time. The precipice was close, but not close enough to avoid. She’d overthrow their governments, stamp upon the faces of deceit and emotional gluttony, but that would again cause devastation of another kind.

The human race believed themselves to be divine. A race upon the very heavens above. The creations of gods. They were, to their basic level, animals and all animals were, in one way or another, ruled by the cowardly and deceitful villains set within any story. The day to day, the ever-stale happenings of each life, never to be broken or set free. Anarchy be rained upon them, if they knew that they were but specs within the universe of souls.

Charmeine slowed her flight as two individuals appeared upon her eyes. They walked with slow, calm, steps. The lovers, the stars above lighting their way, as she smiled upon them. Their blessings were assured until, upon a given day, one of them succumbed to their greed, impudence, idolatry, enmity, jealousy, resentment or sexual immorality. The sins of the ages, infecting more and more as their Mass Media ensured social decay and disorder.

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