Crash

Crash

It’s a beautiful day for a drive and we are taking advantage of it. Sunshine with just a few white fluffy clouds. There’s very little traffic as we head along the highway. Laurie, my lady friend of the last few months and I decided on the spur of the moment to take a Sunday drive. She had said while blowing drying her hair,

“Let’s take a Sun Day drive… get it, SUN DAY?”

Yeah I got it and we are. Glancing over I see her hair is blowing nearly straight back, sun glasses pushed tight against her nose, hands in the air. She is smiling like a kid. Damn I love this convertible!

There’s a truck slowing in front of us. I look right and there’s no one there so I flip on the blinker. Laurie has undone her seat belt and is now standing, holding on to the top of the windshields frame. This is not a good idea I am thinking as I change lanes. She is yelling into the wind.

Suddenly the air is filled with a loud bang and large chunks of black rubber; the trucks tire has blown and is coming apart. The air is filled with pieces of all sizes flying in all directions. A very large piece is heading directly towards my face so I react by jerking the wheel to the right swinging my face to check for other vehicles and to avoid broken glass. I see there are no other cars but do I see another very large piece of rubber hit just in front of Laurie, slid up the disintegrating windshield, and hiting her in the chest just below her breast.

               She is scooped up and out of the car at the same time that the right front corner of the car hits the wall causing the me to spin.

               As the car revolves I see the truck, then the trees along the road framed by the blue sky, vehicles behind us then Laurie flying up and outward from the car. She is spinning like a top but in slow motion, arms and legs extended she looks like a slow motion helicopters rotor her hair still sticking straight out behind her. Her face is totally in focus, mouth wide open in a scream that I can’t hear. Again the wall, the truck, and the trees then again Laurie head down feet pointed to the heavens this time as she revolves. She is still moving away from me over the edge of the roadside wall. I can see her eyes she is staring at me sheer terror on her face mouth still wide open.

               Again the wall, the truck which is now bellowing blue smoke from the remaining tires. I hear the sound of my tires screaming on the concrete as I spin the sound from the truck tires is deeper, more tortured.  Again I see the trees, vehicles behind that are closer and again Laurie. Her spin now has her heads up and she is almost out of sight as she drops below the wall. She’s not going to make it, I'm thinking, why did she unbuckle her seat belt?

Again the wall, the truck which is now even with me but difficult to see through the choking blue smoke. I can see the spare tire hanging under the trailer in its rack. The front of my car impacts the undercarriage of the trailer jolting me, tearing off part of the hood and front bumper. It slows but does not stop my spin. Again I can see the trees that are so green against that blue sky.

               As the car comes around again for the third time I turn my head to find Laurie but she is not there. I know about where she went over the wall but there is nothing there but sky. Oh My God, she is going to die; she is going to hit the ground so hard that she will die.

               The cars spin has slowed after hitting the truck which enables me to look around for her. Time seems to slow and sound has become background noise. OH GOD please let her die quick, painless. If she has to die don’t let her suffer. Then as the spin nearly takes me beyond where I can see, I see a large splash, water flying up and away from some impact below the wall.

               She hit water, hot damn she hit some water, she might be alive, and she could survive, that is what I am thinking as time resumes its normal pace. There is another sound now. High pitched screaming sound climbing in volume.

               I am going to survive this too I am thinking as the car makes another spin, noticeably slowing. I am still holding the steering wheel feet pressed deeply into the floor as the seat belt digs into my hips and shoulder. Swinging my face to the new sound I see the grill of a very large truck bearing down on me. The drivers face shows what we both know, he cannot stop in time.

               My life flashes before my eyes.

               Wait…. This is not my life; I don’t know these people or these places. Time slows from flickers to scenes. Places that I have never been with people that I have never seen before. I see myself in the mirror brushing my teeth. I see a little white boy with curly brown hair.

 I am not white.  I see myself in a picture with mom, dad, and my sister.  I don’t have a sister, my parents are black. Before me flashes scenes of all of us at the beach playing in the sand.  I have never been to the beach, never played in sand. Again I see me, this time standing in front of a full-length mirror tying a tie. I have a deep green shirt on with grey pants. I have no clue how to tie a tie; I have never owned a green shirt.

               What is going on? Whose life am I seeing and why? I am an instant from death and I am seeing some one else's life! What’s up with that!

               The impact of the truck on the spinning car was devastating. The truck finally stops when the front bumper reached the passengers door compressing all the metal, seats, and person into it.

The truck that blew the tire finally also came to rest, as did the other vehicles causing the bridge they were on to be totally closed. Everyone else managed to stop without hitting anyone. No one else was hurt.

               People were milling about waiting for the ambulances and police that could be heard in the distance. They were surprised to see a very wet woman climb over the wall between the roadway and the river below.

JMBlondin

6/6/15

Journey

Journey                                   

                                                                              As I make this climb I know that there is something ahead that I want to find, that I have to find. This journey is hard, stumbling over rocks and boulders that are in my path as I push through the brambles and thorns. My feet slipping on the wet and the pebbles. Sometimes the path is easier and less encumbered but still always up. Everything is gray, not dark really but not without light. There is no sound, no movement or anything to shows life, nothing that I can feel that is living. The gray is like a blanket surrounding me, not touching but moving as I move. There is no sun, it is neither warm nor cold, and I am not wet or dry. It is dismal, as I climb.

From time to time I find myself at the edge of a cliff, a precipice really but just a step away along a branching path. I step to the edge looking down, I cannot see the bottom. It’s shrouded in the same mist that lines my path.  Stones that I have dislodged fall soundlessly and never hit bottom. I think for a moment that maybe; just maybe it would be easier if I just step off. I could feel the wind blowing past my face as I flash down toward the long dark. That would tell me at least for that instant I am still alive but stepping back I turn and continue on the journey for I am not ready to give up just yet.

Part of what drives me on this quest is the momentary flashes of light I see way ahead. Just a flash of golden sunlight with the promise of warmth and peace. Only a flash but that flash is enough to start the warmth again within my soul knowing that there is a chance, slim as it may be still a chance at once again feeling the heart and soul expanding warmth.

As I push through the thorns I do not feel as they tear at my skin, I do not bleed outside. My bleeding is inside where the scars and fresh wounds are trying to heal. Sometimes a sharp point will tear at the wound and the blood will flow. Fresh pain at the memory of what caused this wound nearly overwhelms me and then subsides as I push the feelings back behind me into the gray of memories.

Everything is seemingly dead in all directions. Maybe what I see is the unrealized what if or what could be and is not really dead. The light that I see as I toil is black to gray and gray to black. There is nothing behind me, nothing pushing me. Sometimes I feel fear from the injuries of the past but it is short lived and I push it back to where it came from.

When I do look behind I see little but uniform gray. Only memories back there because it is the past. What is behind never gets closer nor does it get further away. What is there is all the pain and heartache, all the betrayal and disillusionment that was once my life. There is immense joy back there as well like a spark in the gray but again… it is the past and I can no longer touch it.

Ahead is out of focus and grey because it is unknown unlike the past. The path branches left and right many times and many places, the same gray, the same stones and boulders, the same trees and thorns. It is my choice which way to go, to turn or to keep on ahead. There is no path leading back. I can linger. I can stay right where I am with the past against my back and the future in front, in my bubble of now but if I do not move nor does it.

There once was life here, everything along the path once had life, was once green. I can see the dead grass. I can see the blades and the branches as well as the bushes and trees that were once alive and green. They now are uniformly gray like everything else. A shade darker than the stone path. That is how I find my way the lighter path to the light.  I want it to be green again, with sun and wind and blue sky. This is what I labor for, this is where I am heading. 

2/15/15

Recall

Recall

J.M.Blondin

5/26/15

 

 

I’m sitting in the living room watching some brainless show on the television; there is an hour left before I had to leave and I really have nothing better to do. The doorbell rings, I heard it but I am not going to answer, moms here, she will, that’s her job. It rings again, then again and then a third time in quick secession. Without looking around I yelled,

“Maaaaa, get the doooooor!” I heard her yelling back from the other end of the house.

“I’m in the bathroom, you get it.” The hell I will I thought. Leaning forward in my chair a bit I could see out to the front window. There sits a big black four-door monster of a car on the edge of the street, its front wheel on the grass and the bumper almost touching the mailbox. The car windows were heavily tinted so I can’t see in. There is some kind of sign on the door but I unable to read it.

            Some shit assed salesman I think as I shifted in my chair looking back to the flat screen. The doorbell rings again for a longer time. OK so the ass is now leaning on the damn button.

“Maaaaaa … it’s for you!” I lied. I’m going to leave here to go over to Johnny’s in 55 minutes. I am NOT getting up yet. I need to rest up, it’s a five block walk to his house, and I have to be ready and rested if I am going to beat him at STARBLOCK tonight. He has won every time we played since he got that damned game. I wish mom would get a car so she could drive me then I wouldn’t have to walk so far, it tires me out.

            The doorbell rings again and again and again. Mom walks in from the hall and stops staring at me, ring…. Ring goes the bell again. I am really getting tired of this shit. “Why didn’t you get the door honey” in her placating voice as she buckles her belt. Ignoring her at first I look to see the clock over her shoulder. “Because” in my why are you even asking this tone, “I have 53 minutes before I have to leave for Johnny’s, I’m resting.”

“For the love of God” she mutters softly shaking her head. She heads for the door. Ring… ring… ring. She open the door and says in her “”very angry voice.”” “What the do you want and get off that button!” She is trying to impress me… again. “Hello, my name is Ross. You are Mrs. Osa Jacobs?” says a high pitched reedy voice.

Looking over I see mom take that stance she uses when she is trying to be defiant. She tries to use it with me but it doesn’t work. I am in charge here. I might only be 15 but I know as well as she does who rules here, 51 minutes to go.

She looks quickly over at me and I give her that “”don’t look at me look. You deal with it.”” and I turn back to my show.

“Yes I’m Mrs. Jacobs,” she says turning back to the door, “what can I do for you?”

I could hear Ross clear his throat. His voice now sounds like a strangled duck. “Ahum… I am here from The Child Placement Center, Stork Assignment Bureau, Directions, and Locations Division.” “So what’s that got to do with me?” says mom trying again to be stern. I can hear papers rattle.  “You have a daughter, one Jackie Jacobs, is that correct?”

I look over again and see mom looking at me with a questioning look. I shake my head and point to the clock mouthing, “I have 50 minutes, I am not here.” I give her my best “”do not fuck this up”” look and turn back to the TV. Thumbing the remote I drop the volume some, I want to hear what the ass has to say.

“So what’s this all about and please do not give me a run around, I have thing to do.” Says mom. Yeah I think like get rid of ole duck voice he’s annoying me.

“Mrs. Jacobs, it seems, according to our records, that some 15 years ago there was a mistake made in the delivery of one female child to this location. It seems that the child was defective and was under recall but somehow this one slipped through and was placed.”

“OH” said mom.

I did not even look at her, she knows better than to mess up my evening plans. “Yes“said Ross. “And I’m sorry that it took us so long to rectify this error but we always do make the corrections even if it takes a while. You know how big corporations are, we place millions of children every day all over the world. Sometimes mistakes happen, we do our very best, but sometimes things slip through.”

“Recall you say,’’ Mom says. “Defective…what does that mean to me?” I get up and move to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door and grab the milk. Stepping over to the dining room where I can see the door I twist off the top of the jug, drop it on the floor, and take a big swig. I can see Ross standing just outside the screen door.

He is a mouse of a man, balding with a thin mustache. He is wearing a gray pin stripped suit two sizes too big. He is looking down at several sheets of paper that he keeps shuffling trying to find something, mumbling to himself as he searches.

            “Ah yes, here it is” he says shaking the proper sheet up to mom. “Defective report number ABR128764-331, dated April 1, 2000. It states that one female child produced today was found to be defective due to a ‘practical joke’ played on the production line when the sperm was tampered with prior to insertion.

The employee, one William Biggs Peonis was fired after it was found that he had intentionally tamper with the cell, looking down at the paper, “as a joke,” he said

Reading from the page Ross continued. “I thought it would just be discharged without attachment,” Williams further explained as he cleared out his locker. “All children being genetically corrected prior to insertion I just assumed that the egg would reject the sperm.”

            Ross looked up and past mom, he saw me standing there. His beady eyes narrowed as he stopped talking. I smiled as I set the jug of milk on the table. Mom would put it away, that also was her job. Looking at the clock as I headed back to the living room, 48 minutes to go. Ass hole, I thought as I walked past the open refrigerator and went back to my chair in front of the television. I hear mom say, “Defective…. tampered with the sperm, you don’t say” a new note to her voice, one that I do not like. It usually means she’s thinking again.

“Yes ma’am, tampered with, that’s what it says here in the report. I have been sent to correct this problem, and that is what I‘m here to do. We, of course, offer you a replacement of the same gender and age without defect if you wish and compensation for the years that the defect has been in your home.”

            “So…. Ahh how do you do that?” Mom was stuttering when she asked. Mom only shutters when she is not sure of what to say. I don’t like the direction this conversation is going. I do not like the tone of her voice I can tell you that. Turning in my chair I look at mom.

“Tell him you’re not interested and go make me a sandwich, I’m hungry, and I have“looking to the clock. “46 minutes before I am leaving for Johnny’s.” Mom just looks at me. Nope, I do not like this at all. “Mom…. Now..I am hungry” now using my get moving voice.

 “Defective….. Recall?” I hear her say again. Once again Ross clears his throat noisily. “Yes ma’am.. it seems from the report here, page two, section 11 from the trial of Mr. Peonis, that, and I am quoting here,  “I took out the gene that makes the child docile and placed the arrogant one in. The gene was in an old beaker that I found in the back of one of the storage cupboards; I just knew that the egg would reject the sperm cell because of the foreign gene and I thought it would drive the guys down the line crazy trying to figure out what happened end quote” Ross said with a flourish.

            I did not even look at mom I just said loud enough for her to hear me over Ross,

“MOM…. NOW” I used my “”now or there will be hell to pay”” tone. There was no mistaking that I mean business. This bullshit with Ross had gone far enough. Getting up from my chair I rounded it and walked over to mom’s side. I could see that Ross was startled by my presents.

“Recall” mom mumbled again. “So what are you going to do now little man?” I said to him, “little man in the big car! Mom I will deal with this, go… make… me… a… sandwich.” 

Using my shoulder and hip I pushed her aside so that I was facing Ross straight on. I can see just how far his hairline had receded because I’m taller than he is. 

“So what’s this recall business?’’ I said. This time I used the ““you are so fucking stupid that I cannot believe I am wasting my breath on you”” tone. It worked like a charm, he quickly stepped back dropping the papers. I looked down with a smile as they fluttered down spreading across the sidewalk and over his bright blue shoes. Blue shoes? My mind struggles with this. Blue shoes with a gray pin stripped suit…..bright blue shoes? As I look back up at Ross I started to say,

“Blue shoes with a gray suit…?” That is when I notice the box thing he was now holding, it had some kind of glass lens on the front and a big red button on the top. Ross was smiling as he said in a much more manly tone, “I am from The Child Placement Center, Stork Assignment Bureau, Directions, and Locations Division and you are….”, as he pushed the button on the top.

The last thing that I heard was mom saying…..

“Recalled, did you say recalled?”

 

J.M.Blondin

5/26/15

 

 

 

 

A Painful Past

A Painful Past

It wraps like a weighted chain

Hooks sunk deep in

Ties the soul to the ground

Eyes blind they cannot see

Dashes hope of the future

Does not allow moving on

Unable to forgive or forget

Keeps pain and remembering

Feeds fears

Links made of anger

Clasp made of doubt

Welded together with anguish

And what ifs

And regret

It will come apart

Can be broken

With time

And renewal

Hope and

Love

5/17/15

J.M.Blondin

Frozen

Frozen

My God it is so fucking cold! My mouth hurts from shivering, my teeth are chattering, I am shaking so hard I can hardly draw a deep breath, shivering is deep cored and spasmodic. I am crouched here with my arms wrapped around my legs trying to hold what little heat I have left. My knees are drawn up and my back is against what passes for a wall; nothing more than a thin boards, no insulation, nothing but the wood between me and the outside. These flimsy walls are all that stands between me and the storm, the storm that brought down my plane in these God forsaken mountains.

/////

               I have to be somewhat glad for the snow because without it I would never have been able to walk away from the crash. I was able to pull up into a shallow dive just before I hit. The plane skidding on the snow banks bouncing and sliding, spinning at times like the aluminum saucers we used to ride as kids.  After shearing off both wings I shot like a rocket down the mountain, careening off trees and rocks. Half way along the trip the tail parted like a shot when it smashed into a very large pine tree. There goes my emergency locator beacon I thought. I caught glimpse of the fireball of burning fuel during the spins. By the time I stopped I had already skidded several hundred feet from the fire, I was partly buried in the snow.

               I sat there, still strapped in my seat, and mentally went over my body. I can wiggle my toes, move my feet. I can move my legs without pain, hips ok; taking a slow deep breath I feel a couple twinges but otherwise I am pain free. Shoulders, arms and fingers, all good, turning my head left to right, up and down, again no pain. Is it possible that I just crash-landed in the woods, on the side of a mountain sliding like a run-a-way bobsledder and I am un-hurt? I wiped the melting snow from my face then looking at my hand to see if there was any blood. With a shuddering deep breath I can see there is nothing but water thank God. I did not realize that I was holding my breath; I empty my lungs with a big sigh.

               So here I am, whipsawed into this situation by something going wrong with my metal bird and by this damn storm. My Cessna TTX has all the fuel is in the wings and they were liberated from the body by a few well-placed trees otherwise I would be charcoal right now.

               I could not get my seat belt to release no matter how hard I fought with it so I worked into my pocket for my knife. I have often said to people when they ask if I had a knife, “if I have pants on I have a knife”.

               It took a few minutes but I finally cut myself free and managed to climb out through what was left of the windshield. As soon as I stuck my head out above the snow and the wreckage the wind hit me. It was not blowing hard but within the shelter of the shattered fuselage I had some protection and did not feel it.

 I am dressed for a business meeting not for trekking on the side of a mountain in the winter. Dress shoes with light socks, nicely pressed black pants, white shirt with a blue tie, and a medium weight coat. Right now I am a little wet. Standing here on the stub of the right wing I feel like I am nude, the cold is cutting like the knife I just used to free myself. All that is left of my plane is a tear shaped hunk of battered and torn aluminum; both wings and the tail are gone. There is a large pine tree branch sticking out of the side not far from where I was sitting, its needles moving in the wind.       

               Trying to get my bearings I slowly turn around. The storm is higher up the mountain than where I am so there is little snow falling, my field of vision is only limited to the distance between me and the surrounding trees, about 50 feet. Down is that way I am thinking as I look at my watch. I have about 4 hours before dark. I cannot stay here and it will be a long time before anyone finds what is left of my red and white beauty, my Cessna.

               The fire has burnt itself out. There is little smoke rising only to be whisked away. “That’s not going to be helpful” I say aloud. Where there is smoke there is fire and now there is neither, I am on my own. Reaching for my cell phone I am delighted to find that it has remained locked within its leather shell so I pull it out hoping for a signal.     

               “Oh this is sweet,” I yell at the phone’s busted screen. Something had hit the phone smashing it nearly in two. Whatever it was destroyed the phone instead of imbedding into me. It saved my ass but may have cost me as well; I am really on my own now. I put the remains of the phone back into the sheaf. Why did I do that I think as I turn toward the short end of the wing.

               Jumping off the stub I sink into the snow to my hips, snow packed tightly from groin to the bottoms of my feet. I can feel the snow pushed up under my pant legs. The cold is numbing. Looking back over my shoulder I can almost reach the wing stub. Slamming myself back and forth I wiggle enough to reach the broken metal of the stub, I use it to help pull myself out, pull my foot up, push it back down packing snow under it. I do this repeatedly all the while pulling myself up.

               It takes a while but I am back on the fuselage, wet and very cold. Looking back at my watch I now have a little over three hours of light left. The first step has wasted a lot of time and I am now right back where I started.

               I climb over what is left of the cockpit to the other wing stub; this one is a little longer and is on the uphill side. Once at the end I can see the snow is not nearly as deep. My first attempt was on the wrong side, the downhill side where the bank was deepest.

               Instead of jumping off like the first time I climb down gently to find that the snow here is only a few inches deep. Sinking a bit my feet find hard ground and with a bit of a struggle I am finally moving away from the wreckage.

               I am still shivering uncontrollably. At least that has not stopped; when it does I will be dead. Walking seems to help warm me a little. It will soon be dark and now the wind has picked up some more causing the temperature to drop even further.  I am not sure that I will survive the night but I am sure as hell going to try. After all I just managed to crash a plane and walked away. What could be so hard about walking down a mountain?

Removing my tie I wrap it around my neck, as many times as I can then tuck the end in, this little bit of cloth seems to help. I have turned up both my coat and shirt collars as well.

               For the next hour I work my way down the mountain. There are places that I have to begin climbing up again just to get past areas that the snow is too deep but for the most part it is a downward journey.  My feet, I can no longer feel my feet. My skin feels like a shell, like chocolate on an ice cream bar. My clothes are frozen and rubbing my skin raw where I have to bend, like at the knees. My hands have long since become more clubs than hands. I cannot grip tree branches to stop my slips and falls and blessedly I cannot feel the pain associated with contact with the rocks and the frozen ground. Each time I fall it is harder to push myself back up. I want to just stop and rest. I can no longer see my watch. It is too high on my wrist under the frozen sleeve. I have no idea how much time I have left before dark. The sky has darkened with snow clouds so I can no longer tell where the sun is.

I can hear the wind and an occasional bird but my ears are nothing but frozen wings on my head. I reach up to check them and my right ear breaks off in my hand. I stand there looking at it, cupped in my useless fingers. I am dumbfounded but I feel no pain. I stand there for a long time trying to decide what to do with my ear and finally I let it drop knowing that I cannot put it back nor can I put it in my pocket. I do not touch my other ear for fear of breaking it off too.

               I felt like my bladder was going to explode but I did not want to empty it. I knew that the heat I will lose is not replaceable. After a while I had no choice but found that my fingers would no longer function and the zipper was something that I could not concur. I did what I had to do, the warmth spreading down my legs warming me for a moment but then that was replaced by intense cold as the urine freezes in my pants and on my legs. My pubic hairs freezing in place then pulling as I tried to move. Just one more thing to hurt I am thinking. I would smile but I am unable to make the skin on my face move anywhere near that shape.

               After a while I was walking on flat ground. There was not a lot of snow here; the wind had swept it mostly clean. When I came out of the tree line I saw the shack.  At first I was not sure what it was I was seeing. I had to break the ice from my eyelids to clear my vision. To me it looked like a five start resort sitting there at the edge of the other tree line perhaps two hundred feet away. The area was flat but it still took me a while to get across what I can only assume is a frozen pond. Shuffling like an old man was the fastest I could move.

               The door was closed with a gate latch and I was able to open it with my forearm by pushing down on it. I forced my frozen right hand into the small opening and pulled. Getting my arm and then my shoulder in I squeezed in. I could not shut the door using my hands so I grabbed the inside handle with my mouth and pulled it closed leaving skin on the frozen metal. I swear I hear my jaw creak when I opened my mouth.

               Blood from my torn lip was freezing on my coat in little droplets as I made my way into the darken interior of the one room shack. There is a table sitting lopsided, one leg missing. Two broken chairs piled against one wall, a potbelly stove in the middle of the room with its door open, empty shelves over what looked like what had been a sink, and counter top at one time.

               The windows were intact and closed although thickly coated in snow or maybe ice. There was no wood for the fire, no food or water, no blankets or anything to help me ward off the cold. I could break up the furniture but without something to start a fire with, filling the stove with wood would do me no good, too bad I had quit smoking so many years ago. I could hear the sound of the wind outside but in here it was still and just as cold as it is out there. I could no longer see my breath as I moved about with my slow clumsy steps searching.

/////

               I am still huddled with my back to the wall, probably frozen to that wall by now. I cannot move nor can I straighten my legs. My feet and legs are no more that lumps that I can see but no longer feel. My shivering has diminished to slight tremors. I am going to die here; frozen solid until spring crouched looking towards a door that will not open with my rescue. No one knows that I am here no one will find me.  

/////

               I can see Kimberly standing by the car waving good-bye, her beautiful red hair blowing in the wind as I circle and taxi out. I dip my wing to her when I pass over heading to my meeting. Blowing her a kiss, a kiss that she cannot see, I say aloud, “I will be back tomorrow my love!”

/////

 Kimberly, how long will you wait how long will you greave for me? “I love you Kim!” I shout only to realize that I have made barely a sound. My frozen voice not loud enough even for these walls hear me. My tears freeze as they land on my cheeks. She will only know that I have gone missing, not where I am, no one will ever know where I am. I cannot turn my head to see the inside of my wooden coffin and I no longer care. It is getting hard to breathe and again I do not care, I just want to go to sleep, I just want to rest.

/////

               Looking down I see myself crouched there by the wall. My skin is blue grey and there is icicles hanging from my nose. My eyes are open but frozen over, there is a tear frozen half way down my cheek. So this is what it is like after you die. I do not hurt, I am no longer cold. Slowly I float backwards away from my body, away from the cabin, away from the cold, away from the snow and ice, away.

5/1/2015

Water

Water

Water is pounding straight down on my head and running down my face. It is dripping off my eyelashes almost in slow motion. It drips from my nose and runs down my chin. I can feel it rivering down my back between my shoulder blades, down the crack of my ass and running off. It races down my chest as well, down my stomach and beyond.

She is standing before me with water running down her face as well; her hair is wet and plastered down with the water. The drips from her eyelids as she looks at me seemly in slow motion, like mine. As she blinks the water is thrown off her lashes only to be flooded again in the next instant. Her eyes are a stunning green and are incredibly intense. I can smell her skin and her need, I am standing tall just looking at her, my need, and my desire is self-evident.

Water runs over her cheeks and drips from her chin, it runs down flowing like quicksilver between her small breasts then continues to flow downward. I glance down following the water, I can see it running down her stomach, and some of it comes to rest in the small amount of trimmed pubic hair as little round droplets that reflect a rainbow of light.

Her skin glows from the warm water and need, glistening with the moisture. Looking back up I am drawn to her face. In this moment she is the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen. There is a small upward curve to her lips, a slight smile. Her smooth biceps are cradling her breast, her hands are in front of her cupped catching, and holding a small amount of water, some of it is leaking between her loosely locked fingers.

She slowly looks down my body then back up again her smile and her eyes are saying yes. Opening my arms wide I step towards her to pull her wet skin into my embrace. As my arms encircle her my fingers hit the wall shocking me back to reality as my arms close on wet air. With a sigh and a grunt of frustration, I turn and shut off the shower.

4/22/2015

Street Corner

……..and as I stand there on the street corner in my best jeans and button down shirt, secretly wiping sweat from my face and holding up my sign “I will fuck for food” I notice a nice looking woman walking towards me holding her own sign which I cannot yet read. She steps up in front of me holding her sign down at her side. She has a lovely smile and a very tight pair of jeans covering her sweet little ass, a silk blouse that fits her small breast very nicely. She looks down at her sign then holds it up, the back of it toward me. I can no longer see her face as she is behind the sign. As she slowly turns the sign she peeks past the edge with a wicked smile. Her sign reads, “I am food!”

4/16/15