Hocus

Taz poured the gooey substance into the pot, humming away to her favourite song, blasting in the background. She loved this, adored this, the magic of the world at her fingertips. “Bubble, toil, pudding and…” she said to no-one, stopping due to loving pudding so much. She was in love, she couldn't deny it, while others would have called it puppy love or the ideals of a dreamer.

Although young, still so very, very innocent to the ways of the wicked world, she simply liked what she liked and that was that. He wasn't in the big boy group. He didn't have the fancy hair or play a lot of football, but what he did have was a smile that melted her heart. He was, to her, the eye within the newt.  Pulling a face at her thoughts, she quickly returned to pouring various odd objects into the cauldron. Her parents did think it odd when she’d asked for such a thing, a few years previously, but they were more than happy to simply let Taz do her thing.

As a puff of smoky mist moved across her face, she recalled how she’d found the book, the most amazing and articulate book that she’d ever read in her life. It belonged, or so it said at the start, to her great, great, great, great, super great, amazingly great, grandmother. Of course, it need not be said, that her ‘ggggsgag’ grandmother was probably thrown onto a fire, which was what happened to witches back then. Maybe, just maybe, she was a white witch, doing the good deeds back all those years previous. Taz, at least hoped so.

The dried rose petals, a small amount of charred stick, obviously crushed, with a small section of red parchment paper, all dropped into the small cauldron.  She stirred for a while, thinking, day dreaming, wishing and wondering what the first kiss would be like. She’d imagine it to be very soft, a beautiful moment etched in time, while the depth of that kiss would close her eyes and create love for all around. Opening her eyes at the thought, she quickly pushed them aside, as she wanted love for herself. Anyone else could go and find their own.

Finally ready, pouring the liquid into a strainer, she continued to crush the contents that remained before whisking them into the usual lemonade that everyone seemed to enjoy. Ready, excited, nearly jumping for joy, she checked the frail old book one more time to ensure that she could recite the words perfectly. She was ready,

“Brilliant Moon, At this hour
I call upon your magic power
Give me the love I seek
As I will it so mote it be”

One single bubble appeared at the top of the liquid, informing her, telling her, that she was ready and now was the time. One last try. She’d spoken to him, on a few occasions, her shy silence ending the conversation before it had even started. She’d changed her hair, dressed differently, which is something that she didn't really want to do unless she also liked the changes. She would be brave, she would endure, she would conquer and continue no matter what happened. Today was a day of days.

A few hours later, just after gym class, Taz stood just down the hallway from the main lockers. He’d be here, soon, as he would have just finished football. He always looked so alive after football, his gleaming smile making her feel so happy and serene. Maybe she wouldn't need the potion at all, maybe she should just tell him, speak with him, get the thoughts out of her heart and mind, and be done with them. She knew that true love came from the heart, through words as well as deeds, the notions of the world’s motion bringing people together. Yes, that was the right way, which is what she would do.

Just then, as she decided, he walked around the corner heading towards his locker. He was alone, thankfully, so now was the time and she would be brave. Each step, quicker than the last, moved her towards him. He, once again, looked so cute and she adored him. That bit closer, nearly there, her smile growing and heart beating as the final step brought her right next to him. “Hello,” she said with no fear within her voice, “Did you have a good practise today?” Ray, startled by Taz appearing next to him, jumped a little before returning a smile,
“I did Taz, I did. I've been meaning to speak to you, actually!”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I know it might be forward, but I’d like you to come to the dance with me?  I know, I know, I’m nothing special and each time I've tried to talk to you, you've gone all silent, but a Boy has to try?”
Taz could have fallen over, screamed, giggled for ten minutes or simply jumped up and down, but instead, she simply replied, “I would love to go to the dance with you!”
“Great. I'm so happy. Thank you. See you Friday at 7pm? I have to go now as it’s Geog!”

Taz watched as he backed away, smiling, the joy within her reaching new levels. She looked at the potion, “I guess I won’t be needing this any more!”
“Ah thanks!” Said Dave, grabbing the drink and throwing it down his throat as fast as possible. He stood in front of Taz, burped in her face, stepped back and then…
“Taz… why have I never noticed you before? You’re so beautiful!”

Taz stepped away, turned, then walked as fast as she could while muttering, “No, no, no, no. no…”

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Superpower

Little Jess, sitting on the plush carpet, flicked through the super hero comics. Chewing the side of her lower lip, concentrating, musing, completely thinking about the mighty task that she’d been given. So much choice, so many opportunities and so many differing characters to choose from, it all seemed to be a bit too much. 

She knew she could do it, pick that super power, to change the way the world thought and featured within her tiny little life. Her parents, behind her, calmly waiting for her reply. They were simply happy to watch Jess at work. Each page, full of colours, adventure, the silly bad guys seldom winning in the world that she existed within. One character caught her eye, the invisible man, with opportunities to sneak into the kitchen at any time. That seemed like a sensible choice. She could do almost anything, within reason, but then she realised that it might not be the best choice. Her mouth opened, realising that if she were to be stuck in the invisible state, how would she be able to hug people? That, for her, was enough to turn the page.

Another hero appeared, the Woman of Wonder, the lasso of truth, speed, strength, the mighty woman of the world. She could do this. She could be the strong daily woman, then when needed, she’d transform into a beacon of magic. Thinking, looking out of the window, it all seemed to be a great choice. Maybe even the only choice. The page turned, reading the words, looking at the pictures, realising that to change outfit she’d have to spin and spin and spin. The last time she did that she was nearly sick which meant, again, that the Wonder Woman simply wouldn't be for her.

The Super Man emerged, wearing his tights on the outside of his pants, which made her giggle a little. The Man of bats? Too scary for her. The Man Spider? Still too scary and, besides, she didn't like those nasty creepy spiders with their eight legs and four hundred eyes. She liked the idea of speed. The chance to be in a place within the blink of an eye. She quickly flicked the page as she reminded herself of what Mother usually said to Father, “I'm not late, as it’s fashionable to never arrive on time!”

She could bend metal, fight fire with fire, control minds, ride a magical unicorn towards the moon and stars. She could stretch, like plasticine, turn green and smash, or even wear a magical suit of armour that fired cool ‘pew pew’ weapons and more. It all seemed so silly. The choice. The options. Her mind still wondering and wandering.  She smiled to herself, confident, that she wouldn't really need a suit of magic or a wand of wonder. She had the toys, she had the magical moments each and every single morning as she awoke to see a smile. A kiss upon her forehead, a hand held, she didn't wish for much within her tiny world.

Standing, she jumped up and span around to face her parents, ready to answer the question of questions. Each day, a new brain teasing question confronted her, with today being particularly demanding. She enjoyed the interaction, feeling cared for, without even knowing that she felt this way. Her smile beamed brighter than any laser beam, stronger than any man of muscle, while her smarts equalled the Man of Bats. She wasn't Sherlock, she wasn't quite the Mystery Machine, but she knew, that each and every single day, she was the butterfly. Growing. Becoming more.

“What super power would you like?” her Father asked while side glancing to Mother. Standing upon her tippy toes, hands behind her back, swaying side to side, she kept her mouth firmly closed as she looked at the ceiling,

“Ummmm?”

Finally, no longer able to keep it to herself, she started to speak, “I would like to run really, really fast. Reaaallyyyy fast. I’d like to leap a building in a single bound. I don’t want to be invisible as that could be lonely. But what I’d reaaalllyy like, is for my Super power to be…” Both parents waited the few seconds, very interested in what the little Miss would say and, finally, Jess answered.

“I’d like my super power to be my heart. As it gets sad. So it has to be big and strong.”

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Promise

Turning, knowing what she would find, her hand touched the bed sheet and she felt the tears rise within her. Alone, in their bed, she closed her eyes and begged the world, one more time, to bring him back to her. She knew that the world seldom answered any questions, let alone the most important and imperative needs. She’d managed to sleep, for the shortest time, even as the weeks moved along in her mind. Each day, every day, the same. Her purpose, or at least her motivation, gone from the world never to return.

The tears fell, her suffering rising to her lips and she screamed at the top of her voice as her fingers scrunched the sheet into her closed, tight fist. The anguish, the loss, trying, somehow, to escape yet remain deep, sealed, within her very thoughts and blood. Her thoughts lapsed, fell from her mind, as she relived the same moments again and again.

They’d met many years previous, through a mutual acquaintance, but not something akin to a blind date. This was mutual. This was between the both of them. The usual crowded room. Many, many people, some trying to find her attention, many falling flat, but her radiance and glow seemed to attract them all. She was free, happy, living her life the way she wanted and that, to her, was of the utmost importance. Then, from across that crowded room, she caught his eye. Somehow, she knew that someone, somewhere, was looking at her. That sense of something else and maybe, just maybe, that’s why she felt as happy as she did within that small hour of her life.

The moment she smiled at him, looked down, done the usual looking but not looking thing, she watched as he immediately walked all the way across the room to stand right in front of her. A man of confidence, or maybe it was the fact that, as he had stated, ‘he just had to speak to her’. He said so many things in that short time, the moments that managed to make her feel wanted, excited, that small bit happier and that was before the final second. In that final second he’d simply kissed her on the cheek. Such a small moment. A tiny gesture. But that moment always stayed with her.

As soon as he’d arrived, he’d left, without giving her his number. She’d felt the emotion fall within, for a few moments, but trusted that he would do as she thought he would. He did. He really did. They dated. They really, really dated. She’d call them dates but they were actually adventures as, for some reason, he was alive in so many, many ways. Each time she’d see his face he’d smile in such a way that made her heart flutter. He wasn't perfect, but saying that, neither was she. He overlooked any issues she had, the small things, the big things, any single thing. He would stand upon a box, a stone monument, to proclaim that she was perfect. For him. When with him.

He truly lifted her life to another level. Any doubts, any façades broken through despite her best efforts. He knew her. Really, really knew her. The darkest fears that even her own Mother dare not discover. She was his open book and he, just this man, her man, could write his name all over her. Again and again and again. She’d loved, had lovers, but he’d taken the time, eventually, slowly, to discover her. As he said, as she’d hoped, they had many years to find the map to each other’s soul.

Together, they owned the room. Apart, they defined their connection and returned to destroy any place where they were alone. His love, his actions, truly the work of a man with morals, respect, the depth to actually appreciate and understand the levels to which a woman could fall, would rise, could conquer and become.

Then, within a second, he was gone. The tears roared within her, the raw feelings ripping at her heart and mind. She curled into a ball, arms holding her legs against her chest. No tears, no emotion, the depths of her soul, nothing, could console her aching heart. She knew that she’d continue, she knew that she’d make it through the following weeks. It was a certainty as he, that man, on that final day, had made her promise. He made her promise to continue. To carry on. To him, once made, a promise was the most important words spoken by any person. She made that promise and then, on that final day, he closed his eyes.

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Mind

Sitting there, in front of her, his thoughts trying to listen to her beautiful voice, he wanted to simply melt away but that simply wouldn't do. The room, the gentle background noise of people talking and eating, the lights were low and the feeling one of calm. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wanted to describe her, again and again, over and over in his mind, but he’d save that for when he was alone, resting, wanting to feel the same way that he currently felt. Relaxed, happy, optimistic and maybe a little bit more.

The more. That moment when you realise that you’re attracted to someone that little bit more than friends. It’s a feeling, a notion, a buzz within your chest and mind. It’s the moment when your smile brightens and your eyes soften, but that, right now, couldn't happen. He didn't want to rush. He never did. He enjoyed the talking, the moments of sharing, where your best attempt to seem genuine shone through. For him, of course, he was simply that type of person. Or so he hoped.

Her lips seemed to be calling him, especially due to deciding that he wanted her, in pretty much every way he could imagine. Mentally, conversationally, physically, all there, right in front of him, but there were considerations to think of. Everyone always thought that he was so polite, genuine, a person of charm and consideration, but once that was out of the way, he did have a side that he despised.

He did want her, with urgency, right there and then or at least in a suitable place. But that wasn't right. Especially once he’d decided he wanted more. That was the trouble. That was his issue. He wanted one person, just one, while the many would do until that one arrived. He’d known this for such a long time, enjoyed all of it, adored, expressed, yet been sickened by his very actions.

Once done, once enacted, how comfortable would she be before he’d see the real woman? The actual person. We all wore masks, we all had issues, yet his was but a simple one. He’d fight it, ignore it, but his physical side demanded attention, despite his heart’s best efforts to ask for both to work together.

There, right there, her smile, literally making him feel the way he should feel. Forget the sex, ignore the demands, as he simply wanted to tell the world that he loved his woman, not to explain the list that had come, then gone. He wanted to be seduced by words, as well as seduce, and he knew that he could do such a thing without removing any clothes. Any word, any situation, he could find the words but in those moments, lip to lip, inches away, he could create a scenario that would break through any defence and allow his thoughts to erupt within her mind. This. This is what he wanted. More than anything. He wanted to hear her speak to him, the way that he would speak to her, for her, to adore her without question. He just needed to reach ‘that’ place. Somehow.

Every breath, heavy, laden, whenever he even thought her name, was where he wanted to be. The depth to which a man should want his woman, take his woman, respect his woman. He wanted her to look at him, in such a way that he would feel fear, at how she could handle him.  How she should handle him. A fire each and every single morning, noon and night.

The ancient souls, a kiss waiting for decades, spanning the near universe where energy knows no bounds. Each kiss, the spirit overwhelming them. Taking them. Joining them. He knew that great sex, the sex that bonds for a lifetime, is never made with the body, but the mind, the heart, the touching all joined together as one. Two people feeling such emotion, that the world around fades to black, and all thoughts fall into love.

But, for now, he knew that they’d probably end in bed. The conversation stopping, the bonding failing, the next chapter never to arrive. He’d seen it, lived it, lost all of it, then repeated on so many, many occasions. The world simply wasn't ready for such things and, if he were honest with himself, maybe he wasn't either. After all, when someone sits in front of you, and you know that you’d do anything to possibly reach that next level, you will enjoy, you will experience, you will taste and you will, more than likely, lose them.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

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Connected

Simon sat at the end of the long table that looked out onto the valley. The large patio doors, folded open, exposing the view to which he’d hardly even acknowledged since arriving home. On a normal day he’d gaze at the view, appreciate everything it had to offer, but today was not one of those days.

Today, to Simon, was a day of days that he’d never forget, or so he hoped. It had been four years since he’d seen his brother, the black sheep of the family, the one that managed to remain loved no matter the cause or circumstance of the disruption he’d bring. Some would say that his Brother was a charmer, the eyes and smile to break many a heart, but to Simon he was still just the small boy that he’d tried to protect all his life.

The dark oak table, almost majestic in design, felt calming to Simon as he rested both hands against the wood. Earthed, grounded, a part of history just as much as he was, and he’d never regretted spending the small fortune to own such an item. He wasn't a man of objects, items sitting in drawers, but he knew that there had to be a certain level of comfort within his life. A simple man, a modern man, while still holding on to the learned aspects of his past.

He smiled, which would almost look like a smirk to anyone watching, but he was thankfully alone. For now. The past life, or lives if he believed in what he’d been told, were all factors in his decisions. His Mother, as well as Father, believed in a way that often remained a thing of idiotic musings to many. He, on the other hand, believed in what he could touch, what he could feel, or experience for himself. The blind faith of many simply washed from his thinking. He sought the truth, where he could, which often resulted in arguments or miss-understanding. Such was the moment when he, and his Brother, parted ways.

Simon no longer cared about why they argued, or maybe even the subject, as he only cared for looking after that mischievous, crazy, Brother of his. Simon raised his hands from the table, trying to feel the energy, with none being present due to the table’s legs being made of some fabricated rubbish. There was no connection here and, more than likely, there never would be.

From his pocket he removed a small white box, placing it onto the table, looking at the object like it was some sort of vapid, hurtful, moment from such a long time ago. He knew that he had metaphorical demons within him, aspects imposed by his parents, but he couldn't deny that they were damn right about certain things. This, as well as a few other moments, eat at him. His feelings, the emotions of his soul, often reminded him of his failings. Maybe if he’d been a little more open minded, he would have understood more, learnt more, appreciated the time that he had with the people that were no longer here.

‘Time was then, time is now, time will be all we have until it runs out’, his Father used to say. He’d never forget. Either of them. He couldn't. It was an impossibility. Focusing back to the present, still looking at the box, he moved aside his thoughts and, slowly, reached forward and removed the lid. Within the box sat a simple, round, moldavite crystal. Flat on the bottom, green in colour, the one item that solely had to stay with him, or safe, always.

He simply wasn't sure, at all, if he should do this. It had been a long, long time and, if he were being honest with himself, his Brother probably deserved what was about to happen to him. There was only a certain amount of times before you could carry the weight of another upon your own shoulders. Brother, or not, the consequences of our actions had to be answered for. Simon, closing his eyes, knew that he couldn't think that way. The blood of his own family would never, ever, be felt by his own hands if he could help it. If he had to give his own life, so be it.

Lifting the moldavite from the box, he placed it twelve inches in front of him, then returned the lid to the top of the box and placed it back into his pocket. No distractions, nothing at all between him, the stone, and his Brother.

His mind, jumbled, thoughts of the past, his parents, his Brother’s situation, all flashed instantly into his mind. It was almost his mind’s way of asking him, to not do what he was about to do. But this was not a moment for such considerations. His own life be damned to hell and back.

Simon placed his hands either side of the stone, relaxing, air in through his nose and slowly out of his mouth. His mind carried on taunting him, sending image after image, until Simon grasped the darkness just in front of his closed eyes.  He hated this, never wanted to do this again, as the mental toll, as well as physical, lasted far longer than necessary. Health be damned. His Brother was more important.

The room filled with calm, the trees outside, rustling branches and leaves, all stopped as he blanked out the sounds around him. Breathing, slowing to a crawl, reached a shallow level that would place a normal person to sleep but, to Simon, this was where he accessed so much more than the life and the experiences he knew. His thoughts searched, looked for a way to access his frontal lobe, which eventually gave in to his request. It had taken him over six months to realise that it was all there, in front of him, ready and willing to be a part of his life. Then, when tragedy struck, he locked this part of him away into the tiny box within his pocket.

The stone, in front of him, anchored his thoughts. Truth be told it probably wasn't needed, by he knew that we were a people of objects. Items. References hidden within each and every single trinket we owned. In this case, it anchored him to his teachings. He knew that he’d never forget, no matter how much he wanted it to be the case, as family, blood and pride, were the building blocks of his life.

He could feel the front of his skull pulse, his mind accessing whatever it was that existed within each of us, as the nerves within his spine started to electrically impulse. The sensation, to Simon, was pleasant, relaxing, as his chest felt the re-percussions of his actions. His body, preparing, realising, what would happen next.

From within him, from whatever pool that he could find, he poured every single emotion into his frontal lobe. Pain, anger, joy, sadness, regret, it didn't matter as long as it were an emotion to fire a spark into the world. His face changed to utter devastation as the emotion hit him in waves. All at once, from one second to the next, his body started to slightly convulse.  Small movements as the energy from within him focussed, evolved, concentrated from one place within. The tears appeared, flowing with ease from the sides of his eyes, the front of his skull feeling alive.

The pulsing increased, as he continued to calmly breath. His thoughts and emotions gripping him within a vice like grip. Through his thoughts, looking through his feelings, he could hear two cars arrive outside. Not much time left, he reminded himself. Concentrating, allowing every ounce of energy from his spine and body, into his mind, he started to send the thoughts that he needed. He said his Brother’s name ten times. Twenty times, more, as his tears moved from his eyes at an accelerated pace, the raw emotion clawing at his senses. He started to whisper a word, a few times, until he raised his thoughts to shout and think, at the same time, “Run!”

Behind him he heard the door being kicked open, the seconds escaping him, which he then severed the connection to his mind and slumped back into the chair. His mind spinning, his body weary, he lifted a hand to touch under his nose. He looked at his fingers, covered in blood, still only caring about his Brother’s safety. He would never know if he’d managed to get the message to him, but he had hope. He had so much hope. Reaching forward with his hand he grabbed the stone and placed it quickly into his trouser pocket. Hopefully, soon, he’d have a chance to use it again but, by the looks of the three men that just walked up to him, the chances were slim. He didn't mind, maybe even care, as he’d done the right thing. He’d stayed connected, no matter the price, the time, or the consequence, he’d stayed connected.

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Ashes

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. 

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Audio Version

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

Paradise

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.

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