Out of the Box — Surprise for Your Eyes!

 Out of the Box — Surprise for Your Eyes!

Sally drove home from her boring job, one that required constant paperwork and filing pages with ambiguous letters on them, none of her business. There are things one shouldn’t know, she reasoned and stuffed them away during her shifts..

As she twisted with the turning road, she let some of her thoughts about the day wander in other directions. It seemed as if Zach didn’t care for her anymore. How could she be so gullible to think he would stay, not a man from the inner depths of a city? She was a poor country girl who had managed only to meet the basic requirement for him to take her to fancy restaurants, to look like a woman of worth: the family jewels.

She moved alone and thought, yes, thought. How many women fall for that? She asked herself.

Shell entered her driveway. She sat on the couch and kicked her high-heeled shoes off. I’ll be educated today, she thought. I’ll know what’s going on.

Like she had a choice.

She clapped and her television came on to the mandatory channel, an annoyance that everyone to deal with before their shows. And everyone was required to watch at least one hour of television a day. In front of her, a blank static passed, forming into shapes. She saw Mr. Smarty with his yellow mustache and grass-colored hair. He reminded her of a vegetable. “Good evening, Sally,” the voice said. “Today we’re going to talk about a chosen topic, relevant to you. As you know, there has been less rain in your area, a moderate drought. Many residents aren’t taking responsibility. Feedback is important to us. Do you “agree” or “disagree” or do you want to think “outside the box,” regarding the idea that government should regulate water consumption during this hardship?

Sally sat back and looked at Mr. Smarty’s eyes. To agree would mean possible dehydration. To disagree would mean twenty-four hours on the topic to clear her mind, and she couldn’t leave her couch with the possibility of leaving her job. To go outside the box, well, that meant… she didn’t even know. People told her to never select that option, a tone of fear.

“I agree,” Sally said. She pushed back her long, blonde hair, her only asset. “Thank you for your answer. Your opinion matters. We’ve found that 99.9% of people agree. We are doing a great job of educating our citizens. Conservation is important.”

Good for them. Her mind hit the reality of Zach again. At that moment, she heard the toilet and sink’s water be quickly cut off. She heard them gargle, spitting up unholy debris.

“Fuck!” she said aloud. Mr. Smarty reappeared. “Excuse me, Sally, have you decided to disagree with the decision. We expect our citizens to be sincere.”

“I don’t have any water in the fridge. I don’t have any money for gas beyond work during this following week. Can I please be allowed to fill a gallon of water up?”

“You disagree. Well, we have programming starting in ten seconds.”

“I hate you! I don’t care what you say. My life is miserable. I barely get paid and now I have to watch a day’s worth of programming, pee my underwear and have no water to drink. You know what, Mr. Smarty?! I chose, “Out of the Box.”

“Well, well,” Mr. Smarty said. “I haven’t had anyone pick that option in a hundred years, what a pleasant reminder.”

“What?” The TV began to shake back and forth violently, starting to spark. Sally ran out her door and threw herself into the dry grass. Not five seconds later, her small house blew up, and a policeman came riding in on a motorcycle.

“What-wha just happened?” Sally asked.

“You wanted outside of the box, huh? Come here, it’s time for your own brand.”

Sally didn’t move her feet.

“I can come to you.” Sally froze in fear as would a deer in the headlights of life and death.

The cop, dressed in neon green took out a brand, waited a second for it to self-heat. The orange glow reminded Sally of a wizard’s staff. He thrust it onto her forehead. It read, “Nothing.” Sally screamed as she burned.

“You will have nothing but an Earth to wander now, beast of burden. Everyone will know that you thought you were in charge, honey. Everyone will see your failure to respect authority.”

“You bear your fate!”

Bed of Thorns

“Shush, we have to treat her delicately.”

“This is a difficult time.”

“Has anyone told her?”

“Who drove her here?”

Maria walked into the sweet-smelling room. She detected fresh roses, and she knew they were red because that’s what Ralph said he wanted. She imagined his long, blonde hair, honey-thick, stud arms, and his impeccable taste in clothing. And cologne.

Recalling the first time they met, she saw him as truly made in the image of God. His face held a warm, golden haze. His eyes radiated like sapphires free from the ground’s prison. For Maria, perfection had no other face.

“Are you taking philosophy 101?” she recalled him asking.

“Yes, and we’re going to be late.”

It was better than never.

Sure, they’d been kids back then starting out in college. They had dreams they would fly, and both fell back to the earth with humble contentment, content because they had each other in innocence, in paradise.

No one could break such tight bonds. Life gives us seasons, and we give life reasons, but human love, love lasted forever in the kisses of souls, in the rewarding breath of a close lover, embraced together and melting in a simmering pot of warmth.

Miracles are miracles because they are divinity’s way of communicating the vast, the undefinable by human utterances, the cosmic at large to a species so simple, childlike in the cradle of the universe full of stars and heavens.

“Where’s Ralph?” Maria asked aloud, just getting used to being blind. She moved her walking stick as she had been directed, still clumsy, running into the hard barriers in her new reality. She would go to physical therapy and learn more. In the meantime, the prosthetic served as a reminder to everyone that she was blind.

“Um, oh I forgot that you lost your sight in the accident. He’s up there, just walk in the aisles, avoid the roses. They have such nasty thorns. And so many of them.”

The doctors had let her out for her wedding day. She didn’t pay attention to much of what they said. The happiest day of her life was upon her. She’d dressed in her gown. Her mother protested a bit, sighed, and walked away.

“Ralph?” She questioned.

A few people whispered to each other.

“How does she not know. Didn’t they tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Maria asked, her voice uncertain.

“Where do you think you are, Maria?”

“I’m at the chapel, of course.” She moved forward until she hit an obstacle, cold and unwelcoming.

A woman came up beside her and grabbed Maria’s hand, rubbing her palms gently after the quick action. She directed it into the perceived fountain below.

She recognized the texture.

“It’s like his hand is frozen,” Maria said back, cautiously.

“Maria, he’s…”

“What?”

“Dead.”

Maria let go of her walking stick, and she fell into a coffin of roses. They bit and scrapped her, and she felt the blood drip out of her body. Unseen voices called out to her and heavy limbs picked her up, carrying her out of the funeral home. She knew without words what had happened.

And she slept on a bed of thorns. 

Euphorbia, the Assassin

Out of pain, the ground stirs

Pebble part while ways, waves

Of rigid bones… buried curves

With in sand, insane men turn

Body’s hourglass seconds, Time

Flushes, suckles, and deserves

Straight sticks and cruelty rocks

Dendritic webs bold, flames burn

Piercing, a crown of thorns, souls’

Take all to the devil’s tales, turn

Gypsum rose, a high mountain

Blossom, crystals bare in urns

Doses sung by bloody hearts

To dust, succulent poison earns

"And to death, we all return."

                                                                

West to East

I once believed…

Then everything fell from me.

A westward wind blew,

And the sun withdrew.

Caves called back, howling

Sketches to scribbles drew.

I once believed…

In rules and truth, too,

Measured meanings turned to stone.

One by one, a rock, I threw.

Caves called back, howling

Knowledge to innocence doomed.

I once believed…

In a future beyond morning.

The horizon rises above me now,

Worthless words I choose.

Caves called back, howling

I’d rather be dead than be with you.

A Man's Peak

 A Man's Peak

Patrick stood at the top of a mountain and was proud of all he accomplished. The trees rose up to him, the boulders were tamed underneath. The sun sank slowly below the horizon. Shades of red and yellow followed the orb, glowing for a bit before going blind in the night, stars spreading as if after a punch. The wind picked up and the trees swayed. The boulders disappeared.

He counted the stars for a moment. He then put them into his mind like collected coins, growing bored but not tired or timid.

While the darkness touched him, he did not realize it. His thoughts were elsewhere, landing on the subject of his wife. She needed to die for all she had done, memories made his eyes burn.

He knew how he would do it. First, he would watch her carelessly fall asleep and then taint her blonde hair like an embarrassed apple.

The law of the land had left a long time ago. A man had to become God to survive. A man had to be the judge.

He waited until she went to bed. As her eyes slid down, he smashed her skull with the hammer. Taking her body and sheets, he pushed her down the peak’s slope, a forgotten corpse no one would care for, and she deserved it being the bitch she was.

“Dad, where is mom?” Patrick’s son asked at dinner.

“She ran away.”

“Where did she go?”

“To heaven,” Patrick returned.

A few weeks passed, and Patrick’s son asked more and more about heaven.

“When is mom coming back from heaven?”

“You don’t come back from heaven. Everyone is happy there. They do not want to leave,” Patrick said.

“I want to go to heaven,” he returned.

“You will after you die.” Patrick left the table and went back to his spot on the peak of the mountain. The evening sun winked at him as it fell under the Earth.

There was a loud noise and a gun went off. Patrick didn’t hear the blast but fell down the side of the mountain, and his son’s ears rang from the weapon. Summer’s air remained warm, swirling securely around the boy. He counted the stars in the sky. The metal gun went off again, but the child never remembered it. His small body collapsed on the peak, a pool of dark liquid surrounded him but no one knew that. The trees swayed in the wind. The boulders stayed below, covered by dark shadows.

The stars can’t count themselves as lucky.

A man can only conquer himself.

No tree ever hears this.

Maker's Madness

 Maker’s Madness

  Kevin glanced up at the stars with a twinkle in his eyes.  The stars appeared so far away, yet they entered into him, were with him. The darkness seemed less haunting. Still there though, the wind kissed his ears with frost.  The February days’ numbers riddled away. To Kevin, it was sometime in nowhere.

The cruel cold world wanted to thrive so deeply in Kevin’s veins, causing him to toss and turn in his bed.  At twelve, the bitter world related to him.

He read history books about how civilizations turned to deserts, how the ocean swallowed men’s souls, how the eyes of gems only held stolen wonders.

And his father, that evil bastard who slept with women, who betrayed his mother with fists.  He saw her crying on the couch, alone, helpless. The world spun onwards. Gravity keeps things down, yet the bastard walked.  All of this became the windows of his soul. 

“Hey, Kevin,” Ashley said. She whirled around her blonde hair and fake face, hidden behind layers of makeup.  And to think, she was only twenty-two.  

“What do you want now?” He responded.

“Oh, just your time. You know, I get off work tonight at eight.  I know my place is a mess, but I bought some salmon, your favorite.” Ashley’s face lit up, a few cracked lines in the clay of foundation.  

“I don’t have time.  I told you before that I have class until ten tonight. I’m too damn tired to mess with you.”

Ashley frowned, her eyes turned inward as painful thoughts swirled around them. 

One month later, she signed the abortion papers.

“You know, I can’t accept this paper, Kevin. It isn’t up to this class’s standards.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kevin, I think you should maybe pursue a trade. This is the third time you’ve taken my class.  Welders make a lot of money.”

Too hurt to respond, he walked out of the door and onto the street.  The sun had begun to set as fragile light slipped away.  The red expanse hung over him. 

Nine years later. 

Kevin’s team put the last pieces of hardware together.  He told himself how smart he was, how he managed to put these people together like the parts they worked so diligently on each day, each year.

He was a maker like his machine.

The machine would bring world peace.  It would end all the disasters of this horrid world.  

First, he would get the terrible men.  

And he did.

Soon the good men worshiped him and his deeds. They felt his power, as anyone who betrayed him died.  His blood was their blood.  Their smile was his smile.

“I love you, Tabitha. Will you marry me?”

“I can’t say, no, I guess.”  She blushed a bit.  Her pale blue eyes seemed to pop out more after this statement.  

“Why would you deny me?  I have the entire world.  I can give you anything.”

“I know, it’s not a choice,” she responded.

“But you love me, right?”

“Of course, I do,” said Tabitha. “Everyone loves you.”

“Well, I know that. I’ve saved the planet. I’ve turned mankind into peaceful workers of the world, united for a greater purpose.”

“All that you say is true,” Tabitha responded.

“I’m glad you see things my way,” Kevin stated.

“I am you.”

“No, you are Tabitha.”  

“She cried, you know.”

“Who?”

“Your mother,” Tabitha looked straight into his eyes, a faint emotion rippled over her face.

“Why would you say that, Tabitha?  I don’t want to remember my mother. She’s gone now.”

“I am your mother. And your dead baby.”

Later that night, Kevin hanged himself.  The stars gave their dead light down to him, reaching farther and farther apart with the creed of time above. 

Why?

 Why?

The world ain't colorblind

Time twists wasted on divine

Lines and bright signs.

The world ain't no harmony

You can't sing on all keys,

Doors are hidden from thee.

The world ain't always true

Falsehoods are heard, too,

As plain gibberish soothes.

That's why the world is blue.

A song you just can't tune.