Reckoning

When I opened the cage and released the girl, she howled past me, a cyclone powered by atomic pain.  I crouched against the wall and covered my ears but I could still hear her screams, the terrified shouts of those in the lost restaurant, as she raged deadly witness against them.

War

Welcome back

I am not back

do not speak to me

Tell me a story

There is no story

only tears that blur

the words

Tell me a story where

no one wins

I lost victory long ago

lost its taste, its smell

I lost the smoke and

the screams and

the burning

I lost the cool taste of

water on a hot day

I lost the quarry and the

lake

I lost what I believed myself

to be

I lost daydreams and goodbyes

and hellos and new chances

I lost imagination

You are not lost

Stop talking to me

I forgot the riddle long ago

You forgot nothing

I will cross out words

I will make believe

I will stop everything

You know me

I was something I liked,

once

I think

I don’t know

I don’t know a damn thing

anymore

the fire has gone out and

I am cold

I am so fucking cold

Lost Girl

Stretch me across your rack, my love

turn tight the wheels

I will not cry

I will not cry 

because this I should have known

that the moment I found the 

heart to bring you here

I would be so much more alone.

Gone

You found my horses running bare

shivering in the wind with

frozen hair

it broke to the touch 

as you whispered goodbye goodbye

goodbye...

Armageddon

“All right,” Philippe said, in a steady voice, “go ahead then.”  He pulled his knife out from his boot.  “I am ready.”

“What do you mean, you’re ready?” Kitty demanded.   

Philippe gave her a grim smile.  “You know what I mean. If you die, so do I.”

“You don’t mean that!”

“Oh, yes, I do.  I have lost you over and over again, but I have survived it because hope, however small, always remained.  But if you die, hope dies with you.  That I cannot survive.  I know this now, so why delay the inevitable?”

“Philippe!” Kitty yelped.  “That’s not fair!”

“How is it not fair?  It is exactly what you mean to do to me, is it not?”

Kitty felt a flash of anger rise up in her. And then she thought of Jack, and the anger died again. What difference did any of it make anymore? “I don’t care,” she whimpered. “Just please go away and let me die.”

“I am afraid that is impossible now. My fate is tied to yours.”

“I don’t believe in soul mates or in this stupid guardian intuit thing!”

“Then prove it,” Philippe said. When Kitty just stared at him, not comprehending, he told her, “If you truly believe I will plunge this knife into my heart, you will not be able to pull that trigger. Your subconscious will not allow it.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, I’m sick of this nonsense,” she said bitterly.  Her finger rested on the trigger.  

In response Philippe moved the knife so that the point touched his stomach.

Another sob rose up in Kitty’s throat, as she shouted at him, “Stop pretending!  You don’t want to die!”

“No, I do not.  But I am more afraid of a world without you than I am of death.”

“Even if I hate you?”

“Even if.”

An eternity of silence passed.  

“Fine,” Katie said softly.  “Then I’m going back.”

“You know you would not survive the passage—it would be no different than putting a bullet into your head!” Philippe barked, but Kitty answered, “Except that it wouldn’t. You see, Jack gave me some of his blood. I have cells again.”

“There is no proof such a thing would work!” Philippe returned.  “It is far from certain that if you step through the window you would survive!”

“Only one way to find out.” 

When Philippe started to argue again, Kitty told him, “I’m sorry, Philippe.  I do love you—I have for so long now.  I just can’t be in this world for another minute.”

Drowning

I felt your hand on my face and it

was comfort it was

pain.

Shove me out into the water again,

this is my home.

I will find you even though I know

on this dream the night has declared

war.

Daylight

When Bryan stopped, the waitress deposited his refill on the table.  He moved to take it, but I was faster.  Holding the glass out of his reach, I demanded, “What are you trying to do?  Drink yourself to death?”

“What do you care if I am?”

“Oh, that’s fucking great.”

“You don’t need me," Bryan retorted. "You don’t even want to see me.  How I choose to live my life shouldn’t make any difference to you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you dead!”

“I’m dead to you now, anyway.”

Infuriated, I shot back, “If you are, it’s your own fault.”

“And let me assure you, I’ve beaten myself up for it far better than you ever could.”  He held out his hand.  “So, if you don’t mind, I’d like my fucking drink now.”

“You were the one who didn’t want me around anymore.”

“We all know what I said and did, Rachel.  I can’t keep begging for you to understand.  You’ve made your decision, and I’m sure no one would disagree with it.  Now let me make my own fucking decisions.”

“But all I want is to know why.  You can never tell me why.”

“I did tell you,” Bryan returned, and for the first time I noticed that his outstretched hand was shaking.  “Maybe you don’t understand this,” he said, “but I thought all I had become to you was some kind of fucking obstacle.  I’m sorry if this isn’t a good enough reason for you, or if it sounds trite, but I felt rejected, all right?  Like I meant nothing to the one person who meant everything to me.”  He lowered his eyes, his scowl now fixed on the table.  “I’ve been told I have some kind of abandonment complex because of what happened with my mother—that I don’t want to be left again, so I leave first.  If you can believe that recycled, fucked up psychoanalytical bull shit.”

I could believe it.  And because I did, I forgave him.

*Excerpt from my upcoming novel, The Last Confession of the Sun God.