Forest Island first night

In the Boundless ocean, among the inlands that are connected by the Pentacle Sea, rests the forest Island. The Forest Island is ruled by the three Forest Kings, the Bear lord, Nathaniel, The Dog Lord Stefan and the Elk Lord Gregory. The three kings worked together in harmony to ensure the peace and prosperity of every humanoid citizen and animal on the island. As the name implies the Forest Island is an island almost completely covered in dense forest. Living on an island covered in dense forest ensures a high level of safety from other possible invading forces. Unfortunately it also means that everyone on the island is forced to rely on each other for survival and would not be able to count on outside help if danger arose.

            Nathaniel the Bear lord was traveling the eastern side of the island on his trusty bear Pubbles when a villager wearing a faded maroon tunic ran up to Nathaniel. “Ma’lord! Thank heavens you are here! I was gonna hafta run all the way to the castle otherwise” Said the peasant sounding out of breath. The Bear lord wore a fancy pointed brown leather hat, with a green feather in it, a brown leather armored tunic and a bright yellow undershirt. His pants were black and his boots were brown. Pubbles the bear had a matching hat to Nathaniel but it was smaller. Pubbles had brown fur and emerald green eyes.

            “What is the trouble kindly sir?” asked Nathaniel as he pet Pubbles on the head. “Trolls, Sir! Small shadowy trolls have been attacking the eastern most villages” said the villager. “Small and shadowy? That doesn’t sound like trolls. I will investigate anyway. Please continue down this trail to my camp and inform my men that I am heading to Cliff Peak village to investigate and they should meet me there” Nathaniel instructed, then made his way up the trail, riding on the back of his bear friend.

            The eastern most village was known as Cliff Peak village because it was positioned a half mile from the peak of a cliff that lead to a sharp drop. The peak of the cliff was also the highest point on the island and the sharp drop would send you out of the forest and plummeting to the beach shore below. Cliff Peak village was one of the safest villages on the island because there was only one path to the village on one side and an unscaleable cliff wall on the other side. Nathaniel was concerned because anyone attacking Cliff Peak village would have to pass through the lower altitude hamlets on their way and those locations had not been attacked.

            Nathaniel traveled through two small hamlets on his way to Cliff Peak, along the way he asked if anyone had seen small shadowy trolls or any unusual sightings. No one had seen shadowy creatures or been attacked, which was good news but even more confusing to Nathaniel.

            The trail to Cliff Peak continued up higher and higher up the large hill. Nathaniel’s guards from the Bear Lords camp had caught up to Nathaniel on their way to meet him at Cliff Peak. While the Bear Lord rode a fierce bear who could help in a fight, the guards all rode horses and could travel faster across the island than Nathaniel could.

            The Bear Lord and his men finally reached the village of Cliff Peak and were shocked to see that it had been ransacked. The huts, houses and storage buildings were empty with broken doors, windows and locks spread across the ground. A woman with a blue dress and bonnet came out of her empty house and ran toward the Bear lord and his men.

            “Sire! It was awful! Please help!” She shouted frantically. “Calm down” what happened?” asked Nathaniel. “Shadowy imps keep attacking the village. At first the men repelled them, but every night they came back in larger numbers. We attacked with swords and axes but any creatures we didn’t kill would steal the weapons right from our hands!” She exclaimed.

            “First I hear they are trolls, now they are imps. I will investigate this, do not worry” Said Nathaniel. “Bless you sire!” Said the woman in blue.

            The bear lord decided that the best way to stop the shadowy threat was to learn as much as he could about them. He and his twenty men guarded the town that night while the villagers slept. Nathaniel let Pubbles roam the village to search for any threats as the bear lord himself walked through the village on foot carrying a well crafted bow and arrows. The soldiers in town had swords and bows, some stayed on their horses and others wanted to search on foot. The Bear lord’s group was on high alert.

            The night was cool and breezy, it had been a warm couple of days and this break on heat was a nice change. Some crickets could be heard chirping in outside of the village but otherwise it was quiet. A loud roar from Pubbles the bear broke the silence. Nathaniel went running toward his friends cries. He stopped in his tracks in shock when he saw it. Pubbles stood nervously in front a six foot tall oval shaped glowing portal. The portal was made of swirling purple energy and from the portal emerged three foot tall jet black monsters. They looked like small humans made of shadow itself. The first little shadow monster ran at Pubbles but was instantly destroyed by the bear’s mighty claws.

            These creatures weren’t invincible or even that strong but their numbers were incalculable and they continued to spawn from this mysterious portal. The portal appeared from the thin air outside of town and Nathaniel had no idea how to deal with it.

            “Men! We are under attack!” Nathaniel shouted as he took aim and shot the closest shadowman in the head with an arrow. The creature vanished taking the arrow with it. Nathaniel stepped backward as he shot at the creatures emerging from the portal.

            Swordsmen charged forward and sliced through the shadows, each slice destroyed them instantly. “Sire, these buggers are no threat to us!” Cheered Richard the swordsman. “Do not be over confident, we do not know if this is the extent of their strength” Nathaniel called back

            The shadowmen continued to flood out from the portal. Soon fifty shadows had emerged and were making their way into town. Richard slashed with skill and precision, each strike vanquished a shadowman. Then Richard was struck hard in the back, the blunt force of a charging shadowman made Richard stumble forward and drop his sword. The second his sword hit the ground a greedy little shadowman scooped it up and ran off with it. Richard yelled in anger and chased the little imp until he reached the portal. The sword thief escaped through the portal, a place Richard didn’t dare to follow.

            Nathaniel was the best archer on the island and his skills were put to the test while fighting such large numbers of creatures. Pubbles stuck close and clawed any creatures who came into melee range of Nathaniel.

            Villagers awoke to the sound of fighting. They saw their king fighting to protect them and this inspired some of the men and women to charge into battle, using rocks, shovels and anything the shadowmen hadn’t already looted from the town.

            The shadowmen continued to pour from the portal endlessly but the combined might of the villagers and Nathaniel’s group was able to fight them back. After an hour of fighting the shadowmen retreated back into the portal, having killed no one, injured just a few and stolen a keg of beer, two shovels, Sir Richard’s sword and Bob the archer’s bow.

            This was just the first night and Nathaniel knew that this would continue until he put an end to the portal.

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.

Song of the Night

The rain crashes down on the roof of the old house. The storm beat at the old structure like an angry mob clawing to get inside. A man sits alone at a typewriter typing at a feverish pace. His fingers straight down rapidly at the keys almost as fast the rain falls from the sky. The typing and clicking of the keys starts to sync up with the rhythm of the storm. The writer starts to sway to a tune that only he can hear. His fingers dance across the keys of the typewriter the same way a Pianist would play the piano. His innermost thoughts become physical on paper. The tune plays on, it is the song made by unusual instruments. The flowing and creativity of the human spirit, the typewriter keys the wind and rain striking the outside of the house and an added bit of music that only the writer can hear. The Beat Goes On and the writer sways faster has his typing speed increases. Nights like this were meant for stories and dreams. For imagination and songs that no one else can hear. 

I can hear the rain so clearly, i hear the typewriter and i even hear the music. Listen for it as the sound of rain starts in the back of your mind. I look up from my writing and realize, there is no rain, there is no music playing and the keys to my phone don't make a sound, but for a moment I truly heard it all. And I hope that when the night is quiet and still others are able to dream and they too can hear the song of the night 

Twisting Apathy

 A twisting wind whirled across the land, physical matter was torn to shreds in its wake. At the center was a person with a bored expression. 

The Earth spun through space, flew continuously around a giant ball of fire and all of this floated in an infinite weightless vacuum. Back on Earth the whirlwind torn through the land. The people of Earth were generally unimpressed by all of these events. 

"Get back to me when the whirlwind is on fire!" One person said with a shrug as the deadly wind ripped the neighbors house from the ground. As the house was torn to a thousand pieces and neighbor JoJack was pulled into a thousand directions the surrounding neighborhood was still uninterested and continued along with their lives.

"It's a bit of a nuisance, but if it was a real threat someone would have said something by now" John Muggak said to his friend, who had expressed momentarily concern then went back to his general comfortable state. John smiled, pleased with himself for being so smart. He walked over to his television, grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. "This week, there is terrible news!" Shouted the news reporter as he gripped each side of his desk. "Ashley Allure the famous starlet was dumped by her rich celebrity boyfriend! Who gets the car?! Which of the ten cars do they get? Stay tuned for all the details!" The nicely groomed newscaster shouted in a panic.

John Muggak looked alarmed "see?! If we worried about some wind outside we would have missed this!" John shouted at his friend. Then John felt proud for being so right about the situation.

The humanoid at the center of the whirlwind grew bored of the destruction and eventually stopped. Three towns were flattened by the powerful winds when the whirlwind being decided to quit. The winds dissipated and the humanoid vanished into the air. Sadly Ashley Allure never returned with her boyfriend.

Standing against the rain

            I stand in the pouring rain, staring ahead, stern faced and shoulders tensed. I leave my hands relaxed to give the impression that I am just as relaxed. I put little effort into my relaxed disguise as my eyes cut holes in anything I look at.

           

            The world is frequently chaotic and on fire, but today the world is pouring rain and the cobblestone beneath my feet falls away all around me. I see windows with warm yellow light emitting from them, inside the windows people are laughing, smiling and having conversations while other windows have people with calm faces and relaxed shoulders. No one can see me from their windows and no one bothers to look out into the rain.

            In my mind I am brandishing a crowbar and have broken those smug windows with their warm glow pouring out of them. I have also broken the smiling faces of the ones sitting comfortably inside. Back in reality I do nothing but stare while life pushes on and the people in the windows live their lives, never noticing my existence or caring to see it.

            Some people stand alone and invisible and those people have to stand the strongest. Occasionally a traveler might see me and help prop me up before walking off into the night but ultimately we are alone in this world.

            There are times I feel guilty for even thinking about how lonely I am or how bad it feels to struggle with little or no support. The reality is that all humans are alone and the human race is a race of insecure and highly intelligent animals who shriek into the darkness and pretend everything is fine. There are varying degrees of shrieking in the darkness but the Grim Reaper comes for us all sooner or later and when shadow of death looms over you, that is when you will truly find out that money, lovers and “yes men” cannot save you.

             The only certainty in life is death and taxes but death can’t be avoided.

I do not fear death, I have experienced pain in life and unless I am cast into the fiery pits of hell, I know death couldn’t be any worse than life. I will embrace a new life, an afterlife or the sweet release of oblivion. If there is no heaven then I will not have a consciousness to be bothered by it. The lights go out, the curtain falls and that’s all she wrote.

            I do like to think there is more than this life but I am not in a hurry to find out. I would like to experience the bliss of heaven but living on earth the way I have, it is easier to believe in a hell than believe in a heaven. Still all the same, I believe in heaven despite everything.

            So I endure the rain and the darkness, I take comfort in the little things and I curb my rage against others, even those who capitalize on the misfortune of others. Any time my mind decides that the only solution is violence, that is when I do nothing at all. I know that any action I took at that point would lead to something I might regret, or worse, something I would enjoy too much.

Lower Thy Shield

I do not submit easily, I have bowed out from fights in my weaker days and backed down when necessary and those with weaker minds would not be able to tell the difference between my actions and my intentions. Bowing or backing down is an action similar to a theater performance to submit is to give another control over your thoughts and actions. One would be safe if surrounded by those who submitted but the ones who bow and do not submit are dangerous as they are just waiting for a chance to either escape or kill the one forcing them to bow.

            To submit is to surrender your will, this isn’t always a bad thing unless you submit to someone who cannot handle the power you’ve given them. Two lovers must submit to each other in order for the couple to build trust and a sturdy relationship, a knight must submit himself fully to his king so that he may be focused in battle and not questioning his actions or his kings actions. Because of this need to submit it is only after the fact that you learn whether the one you’ve submitted to is worthy of you or abusing the power you have given.

            I do not submit easily and my strength of will has carried me through life further than my own useless body. When the body betrays you and legs weaken it is the determination that fuels you. The human spirit is one of the strongest forces in the world and I have seen it in action first hand. I have forced myself to walk when I had no energy to do so and force of will held me together.

            Will power is not magic as much as it seems to be and the human body has a breaking point where it just stops moving regardless of how much inner strength someone has. That being said, I believe that if you continue to push yourself past your limits you will find new limits that you didn’t even know you had.

            I push myself through pain, depression and anxiety, my will grows stronger and when I do submit myself to someone it is by choice and not by force.

            The choice to submit means I have found someone worthy of me and I feel safe and secure enough to drop my shield which has been built over the years to be wide and sturdy. I do not take this action lightly and when I let someone into my heart and mind it is very difficult to get them out. Unfortunately I make mistakes like anyone else and removing someone from my heart is as painful emotionally as it would be physically. 

            Removing someone from my heart and mind is painful but in addition to pain there is anger. Anger at myself for making a foolish decision, anger at the one I trusted for betraying that trust and anger combined with sadness for the possible future that did will never happen.

            When this happens I lift my shield and move on through life, try to recover from the wounds and hope that one day I will find someone I can submit myself to without fear of another painful wound in my heart.

Love in Transition part 1

            John Trect walked down Oak Street in the city of Dark City. Despite being named after a tree, Oak street had no trees anywhere near it. Dark City was actually built over a forest called the Dark Forest. So maybe the people who named the streets were trying to honor the forest that once stood tall in this land, or maybe the name was intended to mock the destroyed forest.

            John was wore dark gray dress pants, a dark gray vest buttoned up, a crisp white button up dress shirt and black dress shoes. His thick black hair was styled back in an attempt to control his unruly locks. John had a new job as a pianist at the Black Cat club. The Black Cat was a favorite club, bar and lounge in the downtown area.

            It was eight o’clock at night when John opened the heavy wooden door to the club. The door was made of dark gray and brown, sturdy wood with black iron overlay and a heavy deadbolt on the inside of the door. John wondered what kind of people would need a door like that but his thoughts quickly changed as the door slammed shut behind him from its own weight and the subtle slant in the floor.

            Inside the Black Cat club was elegant but dark, with a single corridor at the entrance that was only six feet wide and covered with dark purple wallpaper and black lace draped from the ceiling. The corridor went forward ten feet then opened into the large main room.  The main room had a bar area to the left, bathrooms and coat check counter to the right and straight ahead were rows of seats and in front of the seats was a stage.

            John walked over to the bar, the bar was made a polished wood with a deep auburn color. The bartender wasn’t there so John decided to wait. He wasn’t sure who to talk to before he set up for the night and hoped to get a drink as well. He leaned his weight against the bar as he drummed his knuckles across the counter top. The sound of his knuckles hitting against the wooden bar echoed in the empty club.

            A woman approached from the backstage and entered onto stage. Her walk was graceful but purposeful. Her face was beautiful and pale and her eyes were an emerald green and staring at John with an annoyed look. This breathtaking redheaded woman noticed John and her first impression of him was annoyance.

            “I hope your piano playing sounds better than your noisy first impression you were going for out here” Said the woman. John froze and nervously smiled. “how did you know I was the piano player? Maybe I am just a patron waiting to be served” John said, trying to regain his confidence. The redhead gave a sharp look before replying “All the patrons know we don’t open till midnight. So do you have a name?” Asked the woman.

            John stood up straight and gave a warm smile as if to make a second, first impression. “My name is John, a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?” John asked. The woman’s expression softened “Alyssa, nice to meet you”

            “Alyssa” That was the first time John had met her and her name would always ring in his mind, her voice carrying each syllable across his ears like a melody.

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.

Santa vs Nathan round 2

Twas the night before Christmas and Santa clause did lurk, he was trying to stay hidden from Nathan, the Jerk.

            Nathan and Santa clause had a long and bitter feud and every year Santa would have to sneak into Nathan’s house to leave coal for Nathan and a gift for Nathan’s wife, who wasn’t a jerk, to Santa anyway.

            It was almost midnight and Nathan was awake sharpening a hatchet. While everyone else in the house slept, Nathan sat silently in a high-back chair next to a plate of milk and cookies. As the clock struck midnight a rustle on the roof was heard, or a clatter, if you prefer. Up on the roof arose such a clatter while Nathan sat in his chair, mad as a hatter.

           

            Nathan controlled his breath as he heard footsteps in the living room, slowly walking toward the Christmas tree. “Surprise fat guy!” Shouted Nathan as he drove his hatchet down onto the intruder. The hatchet sunk into the chest of the intruder, who wasn’t Santa clause, but an actual intruder who broke in through the window. The burglar gurgled blood as he breathed out his last words “Tell my kids, I never loved them” He muttered as he died in Nathan’s arms. Nathan wiped away one single tear from the corner of his eye and gently lowered the crook onto the floor, then opened his half broken window and heaved the dead body from his first floor window into the flower bed below. “I’ll get to that later” Nathan muttered. Then he heard more footsteps but this time they were right behind him. Nathan turned to see a red gloved hand fly right for Nathan’s face. Nathan took a sucker punch to the nose and stumbled back. He was slightly stunned from the punch and when he looked up, Santa was gone and the presents were under the tree. Also the cookies were eaten, the milk was gone and Nathan’s stocking was full of dog poop. Nathan cursed under his breath and dashed for the window.

            He scaled the side of his own house till he reached the roof and saw Santa ready to take off on his sleigh. Nathan charged at the reindeer like a madman, which frightened the poor animals. The Reindeer couldn’t talk but they could fly, and all began to run and take off into flight without Santa giving the word to go. The sleigh was jerked forward and Santa was almost thrown off the roof. The Sleigh bells jingled and the reindeer raced into the night. Santa was glad that he didn’t have to visit that house for another year.

            Just as Santa’s sleigh was about to go into warp speed, or whatever magic his sled had, Nathan popped up from the under carriage and jumped onto the seat next to Santa. Santa’s arm went up out of a defensive reflex and it pulled on the reins making the reindeer veer off course. The sleigh began to pick up speed as it flew gradually more out of control. The bottom of the sleigh even took out the top of someone’s chimney. So you KNOW it was craaazy.

            Nathan swung his hatchet like a maniac trying to finally end the immortal fat man. Santa punched Nathan in the stomach and tried to dump the hatch man over the side of the sleigh. Nathan doubled over in pain but managed to grab Santa’s jacket. The two men rolled out of the sleigh. If it wasn’t for the low hanging jingle bells Santa would have fallen to his death. Snow pelted Santa’s face as he hung onto a green rope covered in golden bells. Nathan the madman clung to Santa’s black as coal boot with one hand and swung his hatchet with the other. Nathan managed to land a hit with the hatchet, chopping santa in the lower back. Santa cried out in pain and dropped from the sleigh. The two men fell. Nathan was surrounded by blizzard winds and winter snow. It had had struck midnight only a few minutes ago and Nathan and Santa were already about to die.

            Nathan woke up in the snow in the middle of nowhere with a note pinned to his chest. “You are lucky my reindeer saved you. They feel bad for you. This saint, isn’t as easy to forgive. Try again next year. Clause OUT!” The note was written in red ink with festive Christmas lettering. Nathan lost his hatchet and would have to spend the night walking home. For Nathan a shot at the fat man was worth almost dying from a fall, freezing to death and walking home in the snow all night.

            Merry Christmas everyone and remember, if you hear rustling on the roof or in your living room, it might be burglars.

Christmas Landscape

It was three weeks before Christmas and I was in bed, I stared up at the ceiling but was watching the scenery in my head.

            It was night, the stars in the sky shined brightly from space, twinkling for the world to see. The ground was covered in freshly fallen snow, it was light but wet enough to make a small crunching squeak under you foot with each step. Beneath the snow was grass that still had some green color to it. A stone path cut a winding shape through the field of grass. I walked across the stone path, wearing a winter coat and scarf and every exhaling breath was a visible puff of from my mouth. To my left was a row of tall pine trees, each tree was between seven and eight feet tall. Bright strings of lights and colorful decorations covered the trees. These Christmas trees let off a warm glow which was a pleasant contrast to the cold snowy night of winter.

            I continued walking down the path, the snow was melting away from the stone but was still sticking to the grass. As I was walking I spotted two pumpkins lightly dusted with snow. They were to the right of the path and so close that they were almost touching the stone. The snowy pumpkins sat in the grass and seemed out of place in the otherwise Christmas landscape that had been spread out before me.

I approached the pumpkins, crouched down and gently touched the side of one. The pumpkins had faces carved in them. The eyes and mouth lit up when I touched the first pumpkin. Both pumpkins turned to reveal that they were Jack-O-Lanterns with a light that glowed just as bright and warmly as the Christmas trees. “It is much to late for Jack-O-Lanterns” I said, then paused “Or much too early” I added. The first pumpkin began to move its carved mouth “We are not pumpkins that celebrate Halloween, we are pumpkins that you keep around as regret. You carried us into this Christmas and while others walk right by without notice you always stop and check on us. Halloween is once a year and you worry you don’t appreciate it when it arrives. Just the same that you will not fully appreciate Christmas until it is over. When you are walking alone in January you will find a small tree only a foot tall and covered in Christmas lights. You carry your regret without being asked and insist on doing this even if you were told to stop. We are also the fond memory of the recent Halloween passed. It is not all regret it is also joy. But we are pumpkins in the snow, slowly getting buried until we are forgotten until the snow melts. This is just like your memory of Halloween, a beloved holiday that slowly gets snowed over by the excitement of Christmas and when the snow melts you will be wishing for Halloween all over again.” Spoke the first pumpkin, its words cut me to the core and I muttered “sorry” but didn’t know why.

            I stood up from my crouching position and began to walk further down the path. “Don’t worry we will always be around. You don’t need one day to celebrate the happy memories. Those stay forever” Called the second pumpkin, who seemed more laid back and probably took a lot of naps.

            A tear welled up in the corner of my eye as I walked away. I smiled as I thought of the fun I had in Autumn, no matter how short it was, I enjoyed it. I then looked forward and took in the sights of the Christmas snow and lights.

            My walking pace slowed to a stroll as I thought about the Holidays passed and the ones approaching. A small person in green and white clothes was in the field to the far right. He looked like one of santa’s elves. I didn’t believe in santa but I gave the elf the benefit of being possibly real. “Hello!” I called and waved to the elf. The small person looked up and waved back. I continued walking so as to not risk getting lectured by another Holiday symbol. I didn’t need a Christmas elf that eating junk food and staying up all night playing video games was bad, or that I should be more charitable.

            As I walked I saw a small house in the distance. It was brightly lit up and surrounded by the peaceful scenery of night air, snow and a forest even further back behind the house.

            I continued moving forward and could see more detail in the house. It was a small wooden cottage with wood smoke coming from the chimney, snow on the roof, a string of Christmas lights lined the roof and windows and a porch light that seemed warm and inviting. My slow stroll turned into a brisk walk as I imaged the comforts of the cottage and how nice the warm fire would be after walking in the cold night air for so long. My cheeks started to get read and my toes were cold.

            I finally reached the house, I walked up the two wooden steps that led to a covered porch, I wiped my feet on a decorative bear statue that had bristles on his back. The stone bear with the hard bristles seemed to be there with the purpose of cleaning off shoes. As I walked to the door I was about to knock but felt so comfortable I reached for the knob and walked right it.

            The inside of the cottage was warm and inviting, I smelled mulled apple cider and a crackling fire. Soft music played on a record player near by. The crackling of the fire and the small crackling sound the record player made were just as pleasant as the music being played.

            In the living room was a big fluffy dark green couch with blankets draped over the back. Next to the couch was an arm chair which looked just as comfortable. I sat down in the armchair. As soon as my body rested into the chair I began hearing voices of happy people playing in the house. I saw a black cat sitting on the couch, curled up and sleeping. I smiled and reached over to pet the cat. Before I touched the cat my eyes began to tear up. Tears trickled down my face though I did not know why. I touched the cats soft shiny fur, it looked up at me with its big green eyes and then vanished.

            I heard a female’s voice all to me and without hesitation I responded “Yes, Honey?” I looked around and no one was there. I was confused by the house and even more confused by my own actions. The house seemed so real but everything disappeared when I reached for it.

            I stood up and saw silhouettes of children playing and a reading a book while lounging in a chair. I would blink and they silhouettes would disappear. The smell of fresh pie lingered in the air and I could still smell hints of the mulled cider from when I first arrived. I knew these things weren’t real and decided to leave.

            I left through the front door, walked down the two steps and continued walking down the stone path. I didn’t look back once not even after I walked so long that the house was out of view. I walked down the stone path and came to a split. I took the path to the right and followed it into town.

            I arrived in a modern town, it wasn’t fancy, it didn’t have a warm glow and no one went out of their way to give helpful advice, but at least it was real. I walked to a three floor house, made my way passed the front door and opened an easy to miss side door. The door took me up a winding set of stairs that led to another door, I unlocked the second door and arrived at a small apartment on the third floor. It was quiet, cozy and except for the landlord, no one else knew it existed. 

            I entered into the living room, to my right was a big window that looked out on train tracks and the tops of other peoples houses. Sometimes the train would come rocketing by and I could feel the gentle shake of the building as the force of the giant machine moved quickly down the metal tracks. Having the train close to my apartment was an interesting feeling that I have yet to describe in any way other than “pretty cool”. The muffled sound of the train and the gentle rocking was a great feeling. I could close my eyes and it felt like I was on the train, gently rocking side to side as I sped toward another land.

            I locked the door to my apartment and laid down on the floor. I made a kiss noise in the air and two cats came out from hiding and started to purr immediately. The cats rubbed their faces on my face and hands, welcoming me home. I pet the cats for a minute then slowly stood up. The lazy cats plopped over onto their sides like sacks of potatoes when I stood.

            I crossed the room to a small stand. On the stand was a two foot tall plastic Christmas tree. I clicked a button on the bottom of the trees plastic stand and the branches of the tree began to light up. I turned the lights off, took my shoes off and crawled into bed. I pulled the blankets over my head and nestled into bed. My cats jumped on me and sprawled out, draping their bodies across the bed and over my legs. The fake Christmas tree gave off a soft colorful light in the dark room, my cats purred themselves to sleep and in the distance I heard the muffled sound of the train.

Holiday Contemplation

Snow drifted gentle from the sky as the wood in my hearth crackled and burned. I sat in front of the warming glow of the fire and watched the flames flicker and dance. It was night, the first snow of December had settled on the town.

            In the distance I could hear small bells ringing and people singing festive songs. The winter festival had arrived in this little village and everyone gathered in the middle of town to celebrate. The town would celebrate in song and dance for seven days and on the final day, when the clock struck midnight, everyone would exchange gifts and wish each other cheer. It was a fine tradition, celebrating the end of the year and giving the village something to celebrate during the winter.

            While others liked going out into the cold and singing, I preferred to stay warm in my home. I don’t mind the singing, but I don’t understand the need to be outside in the snow, or the need for those bells. Villagers carried small bells on a stick and rang them and cheered.

            I remember Hazel used to like the winter celebrations. She would sing and dance with the rest of the village. While I always assumed I lived in a village of idiots, I knew Hazel wasn’t an idiot, yet she enjoyed the festival just as much as anyone. I’ve always felt that there was a piece of myself missing, that I couldn’t enjoy the holidays like the others. I felt as though there was a wall between me and everyone else when it came to these things. During my younger years I tried to join everyone, I did the motions, I sang the songs and tried to be in good cheer. No matter how I tried to join the group I never understood the appeal, I never truly fit into the festivities.

            I gazed into the flickering flame and my memories took over, I no longer saw the fire, I was looking into memories of Winter festivals of the past. I remember being told that I ‘used to’ enjoy the fun, I ‘used to’ be a merry and cheerful fellow. I don’t know if these comments should make me laugh or cry, as the times the villagers spoke of were times that I was trying and failing to fit in. From their comments I can assume I was convincing in my attempts to join the celebration, but I never enjoyed a minute of it, I faked emotion to please the others and they believed it.

            I was always capable of experiencing fun and joy, but others used to say I was cold and unable to have fun because I did not run and jump like an idiot in the cold and snow. I did not enjoy drinking harsh alcohol that burned my mouth and soured my stomach, I did not enjoy women who I do not know climbing all over me after they had consumed too much beer or wine.

            I used to enjoy things with Hazel. She was a lovely person, she could sit with me by the fire, she enjoyed books with me and we had long and interesting conversations. She also enjoyed festivals and dancing like a maniac. She could enjoy so many things and was able to bridge the gap of interests between the village and me.

           

            Hazel was truly too good for this world, she was the only one who could get through my wall and see who I was behind the layer of bricks that I built to keep the world out. She had more power over me than I’d like to admit and when she died I felt my heart break and my mind snap.

            Over the long years I have recovered to some degree, but my heart would never be the same and I drifted further from the rest of the village as their ignorant attempts to help me only made me feel worse. It is almost midnight of the final day and the Winter Festival is almost over. I made a gift for Hazel and put it on a shelf above my hearth. I crafted a heart out of glass in my workshop. The heart was red like the fire in my hearth because the only things that could still warm me was the fire in my hearth and the memory of Hazel’s love.