Corridor of Time

Thomas walked through a corridor, the walls were covered in wallpaper in the style of nineteen-twenties American décor. Doors lined the corridor, each door was a rich oak color with black metal handles. None of the doors could be opened except one. At the end of the hall was a door made of white marble, it looked heavy and unmovable but glimmered with an otherworldly luminescence.

Thomas walked briskly towards the marble door, his black dress shoes scuffed against the long strip of floral carpeting that ran down the center of the corridors hardwood floor. Thomas’ brisk walk turned into a run, his dress pants making a swishing sound as he went. The corridor was silent except for the noise Thomas made as he tried to reach the white door.

The more Thomas ran the longer the corridor seemed to be but he was determined to reach the door. He didn’t know why he was so driven to this door or how long he had been running, he didn’t bother looking back or try to open any other door, his goal was straight ahead and he was in a full sprint as he tried to reach it.

Details of the door were revealed as he drew closer. The door had a gold lining, along the edges and made a square pattern in the center of the door. A small golden crest of a lion head was next to the silver handle of the door. The door was opened slightly, a shaft of light beamed out through it, dust particles floated and danced in the air, reflecting the light shining on it.

Thomas finally reached the door, he stopped for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. He took off his hat and his suit jacket then wiped sweat from his head. He felt like he had been running for miles in his dark gray suit but didn’t bother looking back to check how far he had traveled.

As regained his composure he heard the light pattering of rain on the other side of the door. A cool breeze blew through the small opening and the rain sound grew louder. Thomas reached for the handle and as soon as he touched the doorknob the door slammed shut. Thomas stood there stunned his hand still outstretched now only grasping air instead of the silver handle.

At this point Thomas thought about trying a different door, maybe another door entirely. There were so many brown wooden doors in the corridor that one of them would open. Thomas thought about this for several seconds and though it was only seconds the seriousness of the decision made if feel like an eternity. Thomas felt that going through a door was one of the most important decisions of his life and while he wanted to open the white marble door he worried he would be wasting his time on the flashy door and never get to leave the corridor at all.

Thomas reached his hand out again for the silver doorknob of the marble door. The golden lion emblem protruded out form the door and cut Thomas’ hand as he grasped the handle. Blood trickled from his hand and coated the golden lion’s mouth but Thomas continued to turn the silver doorknob.

Thomas twisted the handle of the door, his hand gathering cuts and scraps as he went. The golden lion was not a mighty guardian standing in his way, but the continued cuts and bleeding made Thomas reconsider his actions. Even though doubt was growing in him, he continued. He turned the handle all the way and pulled the door open. Though it appeared to be made of heavy marble, the door opened with ease. Thomas pulled his hand from the door, acquiring one last scrape from the golden lion.

The sound of rain could be heard in full, a gentle breeze rolled into the corridor from the other side of the door. Light was cast down over Thomas. It was warm and inviting. Thomas put his suit jack and hat back on and stepped through the door. This wasn’t the end for him but it was certainly the beginning of something wonderful.

When the Lights go out

When the lights go out, when the people leave and the last note of a song fades, that’s when you find out what kind of person you are. When there are no other voices to hear but your own, that is when you will start to hear your own true voice.

            I have screamed into the darkness and only heard daunting silence as a reply, I have drifted along in the tides of uncertainty for so long that I can stand firm and unwavering on my ship as my life drifts out to sea. I have grown so used to the sound and feel of misfortune that I feel dread when it is not around. I have embraced so many negatives in this world and act as if the world was this way for everyone. Some think I am strange or unnecessarily aggressive but they have not seen the things I have.

            I am so accustomed to being alone that I find it tiring to be around others for long periods of time. Just as some might not understand why I can’t stand large gatherings of people, I also have a hard time understanding how someone could not handle being alone.

Elegy of Gali

I wrote this over a year ago before my cat Gali died. I had this cat for 19 years. so almost my whole life. Before she died I knew the end was coming and stayed up worrying about it. this is the result. I am posting it now because I feel like it might be able to help others with grief over death. 

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I’m sorry. I am sorry that there is nothing I can do to help you. You sit blissfully unaware as I lose sleep. What a joke, some might find it funny that I am getting so worked up over this.

My life span is almost five times as long as yours. I saw you being born, I watched with the eyes of an adult, and with those same eyes I will watch you die. Life is so fleeting. Days seem to drag on like years, yet years fly by in seconds. I blink and you are fully-grown, I blink again and you have been dead for months.

I feel like god watching mortals. This is the only time I have heard of being god as a bad thing. I watch you grow up and grow strong and have the burden to watch you slowly weaken. The frailty of your life reminds me of the inevitable nature of my own.

I cry because I don’t want to lose you, then I continue to cry because I don’t want to die. The irony is that despite my long life span and vast knowledge, it is you that comforts me. You don’t know why I am upset but you want me to feel better. Actually I can’t imagine how you must see the world. Living a comparatively short life, completely ignorant of death and disease.

Maybe it is you who should feel bad for me. After all, you are the one asleep and I am the one writing this down at 2am.

Brian down the Hall

            Brian woke up with a stinging pain in his head, he opened his eyes and saw white lights in his vision.

            It was a cloudy day in August, the weather switched from hot to cold on a whim. On Monday it was blazing hot outside and on Tuesday it was raining, humid and warm. Brian woke up on a Wednesday. The sky was cloudy, a cool breeze blew in through the small space opened in Brian’s bedroom window. The thin sheet used as a curtain danced on the breeze as the sun shone through the white sheet. Brian dragged his hand over his face in an attempt to wake up. Brian would rub his face in the morning to feel more awake, he always thought this was because it made blood rush to his face and hopefully his brain.

            Brian stood up from his mattress on the floor, then stumbled as another shooting pain went through his head. His bed was covered in a cheap white sheet, similar to his window. He had one pillow and a small blanket to cover with. His studio apartment was a large empty space with sparse furniture and white sheets covering the three windows he had.

            Brian walked over to a small end table near his bed. The table was pressed up against the wall and directly under a window. On the blue end table was a glass pipe, a lighter, a metal railroad spike and a white coffee cup stained with coffee with the words “Rocker Cat” on it, below the words was a cat with a blue Mohawk.

            Brian opened his window a little wider, picked up his glass pipe and lit it. He inhaled deeply, held his breath then slowly exhaled. Thick smoke was expelled out through his mouth and nose. He felt his nerves ease and the pains he woke up with began calm. The sharp pain in his head continued though. He picked up the long sharp spike a delicately placed it against the right side of his head at the base of his skull and jammed the spike upward into his head. With a loud squish and crunch the pain finally was gone.

            Brian woke up on the floor with a smile on his face and a railroad spike sticking from the base of his skull. He stood up, rubbed his face again and picked up his “Rocker cat” coffee mug from the end table. He went to the kitchen with his cup, washed it out and made a fresh pot of coffee.

            While he went through his morning routine of washing up, making coffee and drinking coffee, the spike in his skull did not fall out, his head didn’t bleed and from the expression Brian’s face, the spike in his head wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Brian had a series of scars around the insertion point of the spike, showing that he did this on a regular basis.

            Once he was dressed and had his coffee and other drugs, he stepped out of his front door into his apartment building’s main hallway. The hallway was old fashioned and looked like it was from the nineteen twenties. He was on the third floor and casually walked down each flight of stairs, passing rows of other apartments on his way.

            Finally Brian reached the exit to his building, opened the door and stepped out into the wonderful city of Hallows End. It was the modern age for monsters and the Halloween city of Hallows End had grown from a small settlement of creatures to a city of every kind of creature and misfit that the outside world was afraid of or disgusted with. Needless to say, Hallows End had some humans as well, politicians, lawyers and bureaucrats were all welcome. These humans had to follow the same rules as the monsters of the city and would be banished if they hurt fellow citizens.

            Brian wasn’t human though he had human friends. Brian was a wendigo, an evil creature born from human greed, cannibalism and taboo actions. So he had a lot going for him. He was humanoid, with two arms, two legs, he wore pants and a t-shirt, had paper white skin, deep sunken in eyes, sharp teeth hidden under thin pale lips, a shaggy head of white hair with a stripe of blue dyed in it and a railroad spike sticking out of his head.

 Brian the Wedigo tried his best to fit in with humans and other monsters but it was difficult to not kill and violate every living creature in the area, so he had to take medicine given to calm monsters and on top of that Brian was fond of smoking herbs that he found in the Dark Forest.

            Since Brian had rapid healing and damage to the brain didn’t kill him like it would to other creatures, he found that jamming a spike through his head was the only thing that would cure his migraines, it also helped calm his aggressive behavior.

            Humans only thought about monsters being acceptable on Halloween or when they visited Hallows End in October. The truth that no one really thought about was, monsters that exist on Halloween don’t just vanish after October ends, some do, but most don’t, monsters still have to go on with their lives or afterlives the rest of the year, trying their best to get by and resist the urge to eat children.