The last Autumn

            “The cold breeze is nice” said Joe as he laid in bed. Autumn had arrived and the cool air of the season was blowing gently in through Joe’s open window. He lay in bed with a warm plaid flannel blanket covering him. Joe stared at the ceiling, his eyes half open and a drowsy expression across his face.

            “Why do you always mention the wind more than any other detail about the day? How about the trees, sunlight or even the traffic and people” Asked Joe’s brother Bill.

            “I love the wind, it travels across the land, it can go anywhere. It could be a warm breeze, a cool refreshing gust or a bitter winter wind. We can’t see it, but it changes so much of the scenery around us, moving trees and pushing over babies. It carries flower seeds and pollen. Its almost as romantic as rain. And best of all we can all create wind with our breath” Joe explained in a quiet groggy voice then inhaled and blew out air quickly through his mouth causing the thin curtains to shake and dance. “See, we all have it in us. Or bodies are made of water, our atoms are made of stars and we can create wind with our breath” Joe added.

            Bill smiled weakly. Joe made humans sound almost godly and maybe compared to other creatures they are, but gods didn’t die of diseases. Gods didn’t waste away in bed with a head full of medication. Bill didn’t know what to think, he didn’t have words or explanations for life. He just sat with his brother waiting for the inevitable. Bill tried to make himself useful but Joe rarely asked for anything and a nurse came by twice a day with his meds.

            Bill was in turmoil, he was the healthy one but his mind raged against life and he felt like he would cry at any moment. Joe stared peacefully at the swaying autumn trees. The world seemed so beautiful to him and while Bill worried, Joe’s mind was at peace.

            Days passed and little changed day by day. Medication, IV drip, a little tv, contemplation of life, Bill sometimes eats, Joe can’t eat anymore.

The sun rises, Bill opens the window, Joe wakes up and compliments the breeze. This happened every day, until one day, the sun raised, Bill opened the window and Joe didn’t wake up.

            A strong breeze blew in through Joe’s open window. It shook the curtains and knocked the flannel blanket to the floor. Bill’s tears streaked down his face, his hands trembled and he stood by the window unable to move as he muttered “The cold breeze is nice, right Joe?”

Story writer

Joe slammed his glass down hard onto his wooden writing desk. The whiskey swirled in his glass then burst from the cup when it struck the table. Whiskey spilled on the desk and soaked his papers.

 He went back to typing on his typewriter, the whole time thinking about the person he lost. It had been a while since he said goodbye and even though he was the one who walked out the door he still hurt just as much as if he was the one who was abandoned.

Joe screamed and cursed, all of the noise and anger meant nothing as he yelled alone in this empty house. He took another drink of whiskey and tried typing but his words were becoming more erratic. Her face and voice drifted through his head making it hard to think and making it even harder to speak. He tried to fight back tears, he knew he was perfectly allowed to feel any emotions that he wanted to but he was the one who left. There was a preconceived notion that the person who leaves in a relationship is the bad guy but sometimes staying is more painful than leaving. While it hurts being left, sometimes it is actually harder to be the one who leaves.

 When you wake up one day and you realize that your relationship has been stagnating for a while you know that to stay would be toxic, and end up hurting for both people. Joe didn’t want to hurt her, the pain he caused her felt like a dagger through his heart but staying wouldn’t have been healthy for either of them.

 Joe took another drink and laughed at his own emotional stupidity, he didn't regret leaving he regretted that he had to leave. He didn't want to leave he wanted to stay, he wanted things to work out and he wanted life to be good, but that's not the way life works.

His phone started to ring as he tried to continue his writing.  He put his face in his hands and listened to the phone ring repeatedly. The phone finally stopped and as soon as it stopped, it began to ring immediately after. He did not want to speak with anyone, he was in too much pain and his nerves were too raw to share any of this with anyone.

 The phone kept ringing and ringing, Joe couldn’t handle the needy grasping for his attention and in a rage he stood up and knocked the phone to the ground. The phone flew off the stand was unplugged from the wall and crashed to the ground.

Joe felt like he had been ripped apart, it felt like he had cut off his own arm just to save the rest of his body. Logically it made sense, but that doesn't make it easier to cut off your own arm. It also doesn’t help if your arm could get right back up after you cut it off and then tried to strangle you to death every time you looked at it. Joe was emotionally wounded and missing his other half and thinking about it made him feel worse. He wondered if having his arm actually removed would have been easier than moving out and never being with Her again.

Happy memories of times they shared flooded through his brain, he slammed his fist down onto his desk out in anger and sadness. As he thought about the good memories the bad ones started to flood in just as fast as if his brain was trying to remind him why he left in the first place. The mixture of anger from having to leave, being reminded of the bad memories and missing the life that could have been, Joe stood up and kicked his writing desk. The desk flew backwards his typewriter crash to the ground and his bottle of whiskey shattered releasing the Amber liquid all over his hardwood floor. He sat on the ground surrounded by broken memories, shattered dreams, broken promises and broken possessions. He wanted to tell himself that things would get better and logically he knew they would but emotionally he felt that he had been stabbed in the heart. It felt so real that no amount of logic could explain away the feeling a chest wound or fatal injury. Anyone who said that emotional trauma is not painful has clearly had a heart that died a long time ago.

 The next morning Joe’s alarm clock went off with a loud, annoying series of beeps. The alarm clock sang out to the world that it was morning. If there were any piece of furniture that deserved to be kicked and knocked to the ground it wouldn’t be the phone, the desk, his bottle of whiskey or even his typewriter, it would have been the alarm clock. Yet the reverse was true and while his beloved possessions lay strewn across the floor, victims of his rage, the alarm clock chirped happily and comfortably atom his dresser.

Joe slowly stood up and rubbed his face trying to get the sleeplessness out of the eyes. He stretch his legs, walked to the bathroom and took a very long shower. After his shower he walked to the kitchen and drank several cups of coffee then headed out the door to greet his day.

No one in is day-to-day life knew or would know about what had happened the previous night, they wouldn't know about the pain or the broken furniture, the wouldn't know about the lack of sleep or the cries of the pain from feeling like he was emotionally stabbed in the chest. He would smile to them, they would smile back and life would go on, boring life would go on.

Transition

            John sat back in his wooden chair, the chair was sturdy, functional but also looked nice, with the smooth finish and rounded backing. John was wearing a button up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a dark gray vest and matching pants and black dress shoes that had been scuffed. John pushed back a handful of thick black hair from his face as he stared awe struck by a beautiful woman singing a sad song. The woman had vibrant red hair, skin as pale as milk and a shimmering golden dress. Spotlights shined down on her and the shiny parts of the dress reflected light back out into the darkness of the crowd. She looked like an angel or an ascended being too pure for this world.

            John leaned back in his chair and let the music wash over him. John had a sad smile across his face as he enjoyed himself but couldn’t help but let the music effect his heart.

            Every note and word that escaped the songstress’ lips sounded like they came from the pain she felt deep in her soul. She sang with every once of her being and John felt it.

            The whole audience was struck silent by her powerful performance but it was John who was personally affected. He and the songstress were lovers and any pain she felt would echo in his heart as well. “Alyssa” John muttered as he leaned forward in his seat.

            The song played on, the band providing wings to let the songstress’ words soar The words and music touched the hearts of all who heard it and every night the club was packed with people who wanted to hear more.

            Then just as the song reached its high the songstress let loose with everything she had, she sang her heart and soul out and the crowd went wild. That moment cracked like lightning through the earth and then faded like a passing storm only the low rumblings of a distant thunder could be heard until it was over and sound gave way to silence.

            The audience was awed by the music and several seconds of silence lingered in the air before the people regained their senses and cheered like mad. The songstress bowed and gave a sweet smile. The curtains closed and everything stopped.

            John sat in his chair and tears began to trickle down his face. He slowly lifted his hand and gently placed it on the mouse on his computer desk. He moved the mouse over to the replay button and clicked it. The whole scene began to play again. John lifted his glass of whiskey and ice and took a long sip before setting it back down.

            The songstress, the club and the audience were all real and John was even there to experience it in person, but years had passed since that day and now the recording of that day was all John had left of his beautiful songstress Alyssa.

            The world moved on without the once beloved songstress but John still couldn’t. He listened to his love sing again and again as he played the video for the thousandth time. John sat back in his chair and let the music wash over him.

Rain Eternal

The pouring rain, I can hear it. I stare off at a freshly plowed road, snow continues to fall in defiance of the humans who attempt to remove the frozen nuisance from their path. Dirty snow sits in clumps and mounds at the edge of every road and walkway. Winter has dragged on long enough, like a pest that refuses to leave the house or an ex who refuses to stop calling your phone, the winter wears out its welcome.

            The gentle fall of snow is deceptive, it looks like something delicate and pure. The sight of it should calm any who look upon it, but the snow slows travel and accumulates in such mass that its removal causes more hardship on the lives that are already dealing with such of pain. Delicate but consuming, it comes around every year and stays till there is nothing left of you. The cold is bitter, it pains my bones and tenses my muscles. The gray sky depresses and the winter drags on.

            I can hear the rain, I hear it approaching. I close my eyes and I can almost hear the sound of raindrops on my roof. I can still remember the fresh smell of the air after the rain and the cool refreshing breeze of spring. My spirit is tired and worn from years of cold air touching my skin. Some may say the rain is depressing, but I say it is not. Rain is life. It is Water from the heavens pouring down on the people, nourishing the land and warming out spirits.

            The rain will come, when I do not know. But when it does I will leave this land of strife. I will walk outside, into the rain and disappear. To be transported to a place of warm air and rain eternal. This is my dream.

Spending Christmas alone

Christmas music played softly in the background in a dimly lit room. A man named Andrew sat at his writing desk with a mug of eggnog. Most of his apartment lights were off, but he had a string of multicolored Christmas lights running along the top of the wall. This was one of his favorite times of the year and was always a time to be joyful. This year was different though, this was the first year in a few years that he had been single for Christmas. Andrew wasn’t the type that needed girlfriends, but there was one specific girl named Rachel that he met around Christmas two years ago. The excitement of a new relationship mixed with the holiday cheer that he was already feeling.

            On Christmas eve they would visit her family, then on Christmas night they would visit his. Christmas morning however was just for them. They would make love in the morning, have a simple breakfast and then Andrew would get as excited as a kid to open his presents. They would exchange gifts, Rachel always tried to guess what was in the box before she opened it, she never did get one right. After they opened presents Rachel insisted they listen to Christmas music to relax before more family stuff.

            Present day and Andrew continued to listen to the music in the background, it was their favorite holiday CD. Tears filled his eyes, as every little thing around the holidays would remind him of her. It was strange that having someone around for the holidays made it twice as fun, but when the person is gone, it ruins everything. Andrew still had his health, his job and his family and for that, he was grateful, but still, something was missing. He thought of her constantly and doing so made his chest hurt, like he was being stabbed in the heart. It had been ten long months since they broke up and it hurt for a while, but Andrew thought he had gotten over it. Before the holiday season he was even feeling confident enough to start dating again. But then the cold weather set in and the jingle bells started to play and Andrew was reduced to a miserable helpless mass.

            The eggnog he was drinking was full of rum, he drank it down in one gulp. He was already drunk and this would only add to it. He didn’t care though. He needed something to help him forget the pain, to drown his sorrows. Andrew eyed his phone, but kept stopping himself before he called anyone. He was sober enough to know that no one wanted to talk to him in his current state and trying to contact Rachel would be a really bad idea, especially if he was drunk. He just wished for a few months they could be together again, have the old holiday feeling back, then they could go their separate ways.

            Andrews mind tormented him, playing over what he did wrong and what she did wrong and all the bad stuff that split them up. He couldn’t drop it, even though it hurt so bad to even think about her. In a fit of confusion and rage, Andrew threw his empty mug, shattering it against the wall then began to weep softly. His emotional pain felt like physical pain too, that plus the alcohol made him act like a wounded animal. How badly he wished he could find comfort. Comfort from his loneliness and from his own tormented mind.

            It hurt now but the pain would heal, he just needed to get through one day at a time and things would eventually get better. Then his phone rang, he rushed for the phone and answered it. “Hello?” Andrew said, drunkenly. “Merry Christmas, Andrew” Rachel said from the other end, rather meekly. Andrew’s heart sank into his stomach. How badly he wanted to say her name and go see her, to find comfort in her and pretend everything was back to normal. Andrew cried silently. “Hello? Are you there?” Rachel asked sounding worried. Andrew loved her, she was the only woman he ever loved and moments ago he would have given his right leg to talk to her again. But now, it just didn’t seem right. He didn’t know why she called, but things would never go back to normal, they would never be the same. Unable to speak and not knowing what to say, he hung up the phone. She might call right back, or she might never call him again. Right now, it didn’t matter.

            As soon as the phone clicked shut, he instantly regretted his decision. For another thirty minutes he threw himself around the room, arguing with himself and wondering if he made the right decision. When he eventually sobered up the next day, he decided that he did in fact make the right decision. That chapter of his life was over and it was time to move on. The rest of the holiday season was still lonely for Andrew, but who knows, maybe in the future Christmas will take on a new feeling for him and it will be a happy time, once again.