“I’m not one for sentimental endings. Not this time.”
That’s what he said. When he slammed the car door. When he walked away into blue velvet. Those were his words, each one like the drumbeat to a funeral dirge, like the handful of stones I’m forced to carry in my heart.
Sometimes I repeat them to myself, roll the syllables over my tongue. When the midnight pours in my window, cold and dark. When my bed feels as empty as my soul. Sometimes I imagine another ending and I write it down.
“I’m not one for sentimental endings. But this is a beginning—”
He would lean toward me, over cracked vinyl seats, cup my face in his hands and look into my eyes. The single tear sliding down my cheek would take his breath away for a moment, then he would kiss it away . . .
“I’m not one for sentimental endings. But this is breaking my heart, I just can’t—”
He would weep; he would beg me to stay. He would promise to change, to be different, to do anything I ask. One hand would slide over mine and he would pull me back into his arms. My face would be wet from his tears . . .
“I’m not one for sentimental endings. Not this time.”
I would turn away from him, the words still warm in my mouth. I would open the car door, swing my legs out onto pavement, stand up and feel an intoxicating sense of freedom. I am leaving him and he is devastated . . .
Of all my imagined endings, this last one is my favorite, the one I rehearse when the ache drives me to my knees, the one that gets me through the day when I feel like a shadow walking through bright crowds.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Heads or Tails: A Story
The coin flipped through the air. Heads. Tails. Love. Hate. Such a human thing to do. Such a weak response to something as important and necessary as breathing. Sometimes I wonder if humans even have a heart, if they are truly alive.
I watched as my current victim-in-progress debated whether to call a young woman he fancied. A thick silver disk, stamped with symbols on both sides, spun through the air in a high arc, sunlight catching, reflecting; a heavenly mixture of silver and golden light, an almost magical and musical act. The coin finally spun to a halt with a chorus of bright ringing notes as it landed on the ground.
My human, my favorite Creature To Haunt And Torment, held his breath. Leaned over. Stared at the silver answer.
Heads. Tails. Love. Hate.
His answer, the one he wanted, stared back up at him.
It was almost funny.
Because the thing he didn’t know, the one thing he couldn’t possibly know, was that I was going to steal this dream from him. As soon as he would lay down his head, close his eyes and sail off into the land of dreams, I would take it away. I would burst it, like a golden bubble, lick it up like a bowl of melting ice cream.
And his dream of a life of love would dissolve. He would forget this Valentine’s Day Coin Toss. He wouldn’t remember his resolve to call Violet in the morning. The jeweler might phone him in a day or two, ask him about the ring that he had ordered and my sweet captive human would wonder what he was talking about.
Heads. Tails. Love. Hate.
In my world, hate wins every time.
I watched as my current victim-in-progress debated whether to call a young woman he fancied. A thick silver disk, stamped with symbols on both sides, spun through the air in a high arc, sunlight catching, reflecting; a heavenly mixture of silver and golden light, an almost magical and musical act. The coin finally spun to a halt with a chorus of bright ringing notes as it landed on the ground.
My human, my favorite Creature To Haunt And Torment, held his breath. Leaned over. Stared at the silver answer.
Heads. Tails. Love. Hate.
His answer, the one he wanted, stared back up at him.
It was almost funny.
Because the thing he didn’t know, the one thing he couldn’t possibly know, was that I was going to steal this dream from him. As soon as he would lay down his head, close his eyes and sail off into the land of dreams, I would take it away. I would burst it, like a golden bubble, lick it up like a bowl of melting ice cream.
And his dream of a life of love would dissolve. He would forget this Valentine’s Day Coin Toss. He wouldn’t remember his resolve to call Violet in the morning. The jeweler might phone him in a day or two, ask him about the ring that he had ordered and my sweet captive human would wonder what he was talking about.
Heads. Tails. Love. Hate.
In my world, hate wins every time.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Day The Earth Stood Still: A Story
The sun didn’t rise on Thursday. That should have been a sign, a warning. It should have set all the alarms ringing inside Sam’s head. But it didn’t.
Because he didn’t wake up.
Nobody did.
The day the Earth stood still—the day everything changed—went completely undetected. It lodged, like a rock, right between Wednesday and Friday, dark, cold, silent. No NASA scientist and no Hindu philosopher caught the great hiccup in the universe. Friday came, blinding and bright and charged with energy—a bit too much energy, in fact. Power surged and crackled through cables and wires and ended up shorting out cell phones around the world.
The Internet, on the other hand, ran smoother than ever.
Sam thought he noticed a difference when he sat down, fingers poised over keyboard. Thought he heard a crack, snazzle, pop in his ears. Like liquid silver, every connection zapped into place faster than it ever had before.
He grinned.
New Web sites sparked into prime time, exquisite and compelling and somehow already linked to existing sites. Without realizing it, his computer began to prefer these new, almost alien sites, would route him there over and again, leave him there for long intervals.
Basking in the light.
Sweet. Ambient. Light.
A soft strobe pulsing just beneath the surface, a message read by brainstem and cerebellum like secret code. A whisper program that ran undetected, just like that missing Thursday. A cyber virus that thrummed all day long. Even after his computer was turned off.
That night, while the computer junkies around the world slept, cozy and warm and safe inside footed pajamas and Ambien cocktails, the program kicked into high gear and the transformation began. So subtle it wouldn’t even be noticed, not by the humans anyway, just like that missing middle-of-the-week day.
The morning came and a few hackers noticed that the sky hung a bit darker, cereal crunched a bit quieter, surfaces felt a bit smoother and dialogue—well, dialogue came in a steady stream, more like binary code than conversation.
1101011010001010101
Sam smiled as he sat down on the wrong side of the screen, 001010101111, ready and eager to get to work.
Head tilted, he listened.
00001010101
The sound of birds, singing.
11110101
The clatter of keyboard keys, a cyber universe turned inside out.
001010101111
One word repeating itself over and over, one human staring at him through transparent screen, typing.
001010101111
In some languages the word meant Aliens.
But in most it simply meant:
Monsters.
Because he didn’t wake up.
Nobody did.
The day the Earth stood still—the day everything changed—went completely undetected. It lodged, like a rock, right between Wednesday and Friday, dark, cold, silent. No NASA scientist and no Hindu philosopher caught the great hiccup in the universe. Friday came, blinding and bright and charged with energy—a bit too much energy, in fact. Power surged and crackled through cables and wires and ended up shorting out cell phones around the world.
The Internet, on the other hand, ran smoother than ever.
Sam thought he noticed a difference when he sat down, fingers poised over keyboard. Thought he heard a crack, snazzle, pop in his ears. Like liquid silver, every connection zapped into place faster than it ever had before.
He grinned.
New Web sites sparked into prime time, exquisite and compelling and somehow already linked to existing sites. Without realizing it, his computer began to prefer these new, almost alien sites, would route him there over and again, leave him there for long intervals.
Basking in the light.
Sweet. Ambient. Light.
A soft strobe pulsing just beneath the surface, a message read by brainstem and cerebellum like secret code. A whisper program that ran undetected, just like that missing Thursday. A cyber virus that thrummed all day long. Even after his computer was turned off.
That night, while the computer junkies around the world slept, cozy and warm and safe inside footed pajamas and Ambien cocktails, the program kicked into high gear and the transformation began. So subtle it wouldn’t even be noticed, not by the humans anyway, just like that missing middle-of-the-week day.
The morning came and a few hackers noticed that the sky hung a bit darker, cereal crunched a bit quieter, surfaces felt a bit smoother and dialogue—well, dialogue came in a steady stream, more like binary code than conversation.
1101011010001010101
Sam smiled as he sat down on the wrong side of the screen, 001010101111, ready and eager to get to work.
Head tilted, he listened.
00001010101
The sound of birds, singing.
11110101
The clatter of keyboard keys, a cyber universe turned inside out.
001010101111
One word repeating itself over and over, one human staring at him through transparent screen, typing.
001010101111
In some languages the word meant Aliens.
But in most it simply meant:
Monsters.
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