Memories

She reached up for my fingers, her tiny little hand fit perfectly in my palm.  I looked down at this beautiful creation.  Her long brown hair was straight and stopped just at her shoulders.  Those amazing green eyes stared up at me, begging for knowledge.

“Daddy, I love you!”  A smile formed on my lips.  Hearing those words from this perfect tiny being, this little human I created with my wife made my heart skip a beat.

“I love you too kiddo.”  I grabbed both her hands and started twirling her in a circle.  Her feet lifted off the ground and her laughter was like a sweet melody that danced across the wind.

I slowed down only to allow her feet to graze the grass before they lifted off again. Just as we had lift off I looked up and noticed her mother staring at us both with that look in her eyes.  The look she got when she first saw me holding our daughter.

She smiled. “Are you two ready?”

I stopped twirling in a circle and tossed our little girl on my shoulders. I started to walk back towards the house.

“As ready as we can be sweetheart.” I smiled and stopped dead in my tracks, because there in front of me stood the perfect woman.  She had a passion, a fire about her that I have failed to find in anyone else. 

Her slender body leaned against the doorframe.  Her arms were crossed not in a defensive manner but a relaxed pose.  The skinny jeans she wore hugged her hips and legs perfectly.  Her worn brown converse shoes were tattered but she always said it is what gives them character.  Her eyes were a stunning grey but she loved to fight me that they were blue.  Her hair flowed down her back and rested at her waistline. My heart skipped a beat every time I laid eyes on her.

I walked over to her, pulled the precious cargo off my shoulders and sent her in to the house to get her coat.  I place my hand on the doorframe and leaned into this amazing woman. I gently pressed my lips to hers.  She wrapped her arms around my neck and melted into me.  I placed my hand on the small of her back and pulled her as close as I could get her. 

“Mommy, Daddy I can’t find my coat.” We both giggled and looked down at our little girl.

She pulled away from me. “Come sweetie, lets go check in your toy box.”

I watched the two most important women in my life walk upstairs.  A few minutes later I got a tug on my pants.

“Daddy look, mommy found my coat.” She hugged my leg and ran out the door.

I chased her to the door; she bolted down the stairs and skipped across the yard.  She started singing to herself.

“Daddy, Daddy come push me.” She hopped on the swing and stared at me with her big green eyes and a huge grin on her face.

I jogged over and grabbed the chains that held the swing above the ground; I pulled her back and let her go.  She started laughing.  Her tiny fragile body cut through the air like a hot knife to butter.

“Daddy look at me.” She started pumping her legs out of rhythm.  Her purple converse shoes were untied and her shoelaces were slapping her legs.

“I see you pumpkin, Good Job!”

The sun illuminated her hair brining out the streaks of natural red as her hair flowed through the breeze.

In one fluid motion she jumped from the swing, ran up and slapped me on the leg.

“What was that for?” I stared down at her with a glare of disapproval.

“Your it daddy.” She turned and ran as fast as I have ever seen her run.  She ran past the play equipment and was headed straight for the street.

“STOP Baby, STOP!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

“I can’t stop the baby is coming no matter what.”

“Just hold her in for a few more minutes were almost there.” Her breathing was more labored, and the thought that this was it made my heart race faster then ever.

I pulled into the maternity ward parking lot. I stopped right in front of the door, jumped out to help my wife out of the car. God she is amazing carrying life inside of her and yet she still manages to take my breath away.

I got her inside and they took her straight to a room.  She got changed and was trying to get comfortable when they walked in with a huge needle.  I got the privilege of holding her as they got the epidural in place.

Not even ten minutes later she started pushing.  I stood right by her head and brushed away matted hair off her forehead.  She screamed in pain.

“Two more pushes and she will be here, hang in there sweetie.”

She looked up at me and smiled, I gently kissed her forehead.  She took a deep breath and one hard final push my daughter; my baby girl was brought into this world.

She came out letting the world know she was here.  How could something that tiny be so loud?  They placed the carefully wrapped bundle on my wife’s chest.  Tears began to flow as I watched for the first time my wife and baby girl together.

“Here, hold her, hold your daughter.” My wife extended her arms holding the cargo.  I gently slipped my arms in and swooped up this precious gift from God.

She opened her eyes, and stared up at me.  For that split moment I never thought I could love someone so much in such a quick time.  I pulled her head close to mine and kissed her little flushed cheek.

“Daddy loves you kiddo, now and forever.” I looked down at her tiny doll like face and at that moment she smiled at me.  My heart melted into goo and I knew she had me wrapped around those tiny little fingers.

Two days later I was loading my women up in the car.  It was a dream come true healthy wife, healthy baby girl.  My wife insisted that she sat in the back for babies first ride.

“Everyone set?” I looked back as my wife buckled her seatbelt and gave me a thumbs up.

We made it out of the parking lot and to the first red light, it turned green and I started to go when I heard the screeching of tires.

She was paddling her bike as fast as she could.  Her bike flopped from side to side as her training wheels did their job.

She looked back at me. “Daddy I am doing it on my own!”  I started laughing as I watched her little pink princess helmet bob from side to side.

I ran and caught of with her. I could hear she was out of breath.  It was hard work for a little girl.

“Are you ready for a break princess?” 

“NO!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, and looked back at me.

“Watch Out!” As she turned the corner her bike slammed into the car and flipped her bike over.  She lay there for a second before she got up.

“I am sorry Daddy.” She tucked her head down, and started crying. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks.  She turned and bolted down the driveway before I could say anything.

I saw the car coming out of the corner of my eye; it was driving way to fast.  I screamed for her and started to run towards her.  She stopped in the middle of street and stared at me.

“I said I was sorry daddy, please don’t be angry with me.” She held her hand out towards me for acceptance, for forgiveness.

I reached out to grab her only to feel cold steel brush my fingertips.  I could hear the crack of my little girl’s bones as she hit the front of the car.  The tires came to a screeching halt.  I looked up and in that split moment I watched my baby girls body fly into the air and hit the ground with a deafening thud.  My heart stopped beating as I ran to her side.  I scooped her up and wiped her hair from her face.  I held her tightly to my chest.  I could feel her heartbeat slow.  The tears poured from my eyes.

Her green eyes that were full of life was draining right in front of me.  Blood was pouring from her nose.  I wiped it away gently.

“It is okay kiddo, daddy is here.”  I started to rock her slowly; I stared up at the dark clouds that began to form overhead.  The clouds opened up and the rain began to pour. It was like God himself was crying for me.  Why? Why my little girl?  I then heard this tiny voice, the sweet melody I thought I would never hear again.

“Daddy I am sorry, please don’t be angry with me.” Her tiny body went limp in my arms.  I pulled her close to my chest.

I leaned down and kissed her rosy cheek for the last time and whispered in her ear. “Daddy loves you now and forever.” 

I could hear the sirens, as they got closer.

She popped through the doorway of my office.  She was all decked out in her fairy wings and tutu.

“WOOOO, WOOOO, look daddy I am a fire engine.”  She spread her arms and ran around my desk making her siren noise.  I started laughing and scooped her up in my arms.

“Time for bed kiddo.”

“Aww, but daddy can I play for just a few minutes longer?”  She batted her long eyelashes at me.

“No, sweetie, we have a big day ahead of us, we need our rest.”

She sighed “Fine I will go to bed, if you read me a story.”

“Of course.” I grinned, I flew her upstairs and into her bed, removed her wings and tutu and hung them on the bedpost.  I tucked her in, layed down with her and read her a story.

The next morning I awoke on my stomach.  I could feel this weight on back.  Then the tickle of hair on my cheek, little fingers tapping my shoulder.  I turned my head to see my daughter staring at me with tears pouring from her eyes.

“What’s wrong pumpkin?”

“Daddy, I have been watching you day after day.  I can see the memories you play in your head.  I can feel the pain and see your tears.”  My heart sank.  I kept the memories of my daughter close to my heart.  She was my life, every time I hear a siren, screeching tires, laughter of another child, I think of her.  Her bright green eyes how she was full of life.  How in a split moment it was taken away. 

She kissed my cheek. “Daddy, I am okay now, please don’t cry for me anymore. Mommy needs you and so does my baby brother.”

I looked at her with a puzzled look. “You don’t have a baby brother honey.”

She took my face in her little hands.  “Yes I do daddy, he is in mommies tummy.” She pointed at my wife laying next to me. “I love you so much daddy, its time you let me go.”

“I love you too kiddo, and always will.”  The weight was gone, and I woke up and sat straight up in bed.  My cheek was still wet.  I looked over at my wife who was sleeping next to me.  I leaned over and kissed her stomach.  The pain was lifted, and new hope began to grow.

Hang tight

Hang tight i am working on a new piece as we speak, just taking little bit longer then expected with the kids, and whatnot.  i hope you all stick around!

Thank you
Bable

A Thirst To Kill

“Skinny Vanilla Latte’.”

“What size?” The barista patiently waited for me to reply.

“Tall.”

“What is your name?”

My name? I thought for a moment.  I could give them my real name, or I could go with something a little more exotic then Samantha. Plus I don’t want my name tied to a possible blood bath.

“Lexus.” I smiled and walked away, waiting for that hot cup of pick me up.

I sat down and started to survey the room. I was to choose my next victim from this ses pool of people? I really wish I could go somewhere with more to pick from, it looks like a redneck convention was let out, but I cant be picky I have to stay as low key as possible I was almost caught last time.

There were a few tables with chairs that littered the corner of the coffee shop, a few lounge chairs and an oversized green couch that took up one wall.

The first person I noticed was an older man in a tie-dye shirt, he had one of those aussie style hats you know the ones with the string that goes under the chin, the corners were bent down. His old brown slip on sandals made me laugh. On his left wrist he wore a black leather watch, that’s when I noticed that shiny bit of silver on his ring finger. Blah, married.  I’ll pass.

Behind him and to the left was a heavyset woman; she had short 50 style bangs. She was one of those women who do not own a mirror.  She had blue fingernail polish dark rimmed glasses, and large disk hoop earrings. She wore a spaghetti strap white dingy shirt with no bra, which I am 100 percent sure she needed, she had a short flower skirt to match.  To top off her mess of a look she wore blue converse shoes. She was prime pick if it wasn’t for the sandwich she was shoving in her face, which would not have been bad but a bit of the cheese lingered on her lip which was not appealing to me at all. She reminded me of a pig eating slop.

I turned sideways in my seat and noticed two older women sipping on there cold iced tea. Once mentioned something about a train in a book she had picked up. The woman on the right was sporting a purple shirt; she was rather large and had on these tight black shorts.  She wore white running shoes and her hair was a dirty blonde, her friend was dressed in a black shirt, she was large but not as large as the first, she had on what my grandma use to call pedal pusher jeans, black clog flip flops, he hair seemed to be more maintained then the other woman’s it was a dark brown with a hint of blonde and red streaks through it. One smack with a hammer to the back of the head, and her boring train story would be over. I think everyone in here would thank me.

Out of the corner of my eye, closer to the counter on the couch was a small child that looked to be watching a movie on her mothers laptop, she had dirty blonde hair was wearing a white shirt with cut of jean shorts and white runners. Her mother was sipping coffee and was pouring over a stack of books in front of her.  If I got pleasure out of killing children I would have to say she would be prime target she was not being watched and the mom was oblivious to anyone around her.

Before I finished surveying the room she walked in.

She wore a long black dress that snuggly fit her body, black flip-flops, large black glasses that hid her brown eyes. Long bleach blonde hair that was dyed black underneath.  Her hips swayed as she made her way to the counter.  She was the one the one I wanted. The one I needed to carry out my plan, this dark part of me that screamed and clawed inside of me begging to be released.  My eyes followed her as she rounded the corner and made her way into the three-stalled bathroom.  I slowly got up and grabbed my bag hoping that no one was watching me as intently as I was watching them.

I slowly pushed my the bathroom door open with my foot keeping my eye on the people to see if anyone else was to get up and follow us into my work station.  As I turned the door slowly closed behind me I reached over and grabbed a brown wedge and shoved it under the door.

There she was standing in from of the mirror admiring herself, she better take it all in, because in a few moments those eyes will no longer be full of life. I pulled out a white cloth from my bag and walked up behind her, and quickly placed it over her mouth and nose. I took the knife I carried in my pocket and slowly eased it into her left side.  I could smell the iron from her blood dance across my nose, taunting me with more of what was to come.  The warm blood trickled down my hand it splattered onto the ground.

She went limp; I layed her down and watched her chest move up and down. I lowered my head onto her breasts I could hear her heart beating as if daring me to make it stop.

I reached over and grabbed my black bag, my heart started to race.  The demon inside of me was being fed, and man did he have thirsts.

 I stopped for only a moment to study her, to take in everything I could about my kill.  Her face was oval, she had a small upturned nose, and her eyes were honey brown, long, full, black eyelashes layed tranquilly on her cheeks. She was slender, on the verge of too skinny.

I grinned and went back to digging in my bag; I pulled out a pair of black gloves, the slipped right on, using the blood from my hands as lubricant. I grabbed the knife I used earlier, and slowly started to push it into the right side of her chest.  Now with every breath bubbles escaped the wound.  The hot liquid of life pooled out of her.  I eased the knife out of her chest. 

The demon was getting excited as death was near.  I could feel the hotness of my own blood rush through my veins. It was like liquid fire that made my black heart pump wrathfully. 

I got up and straddled her, one knee on either side of her body, her breath was far and few between, I placed my ear to her mouth, I want to take in her last ticks of life, to feel her hot breath against my skin as she nourished my demon.

  With my ear closely pressed against her red full lips, a small whisper escaped her it rang through my ear, Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte’, astonished I leapt from her lifeless body.

Then again with more force, I heard. “Tall, Skinny Vanilla Late for Lexus’” My mind suddenly snapped back to reality, I got up out of my chair to retrieve my hot cup of pick me up!

Baseball

I hold the red and white sphere in my hands, the smooth leather pressing against my palm; my fingertips graze the red stitching. I tossed it in the air just to hear the ball smack into my leather glove.

I take my position, not a base, nor pitcher but the openness and remarkable view of centerfield.  The smell of the fresh cut grass dances with my senses, the wet clippings stick to my cleats. 

I turn and face the infield; I adjust my baseball cap to protect my eyes from the contemptuous sun, a bead of sweat escapes from underneath my cap and rolls off my nose.

“Batter Up” The short, stubby umpire pulls down his facemask. 

The first batter steps into the box, the pitcher rolls the ball around in his hand and with his arm extended, his leg gracefully cuts through the air, the first pitch was released.

The ball grazed the bat only to tip it into the air, the catcher held out his mitt and like a magnetic force the ball falls into his glove.

“OUT”! The stubby man screams.

One down two to go, I take my stance as the next batter makes his way to the box, the ball is released and the bat makes contact sending the ball up into the air and into centerfield.  I look up calculating what path the ball is going to take, smack, into my glove it goes.  I throw the ball back to the pitcher. 

Two down one to go. The third batter hits the ball sending it down third base, giving him enough time to take his place on first.  I punch my glove.

The next batter hits a liner to short stop, the sound of the ball hitting the leather sent a chill of excitement down my spine. That was our third out, our turn to put up the numbers.

I grabbed the bat twisting the handle in my hands, I take a swing, the air rushing over the barrel of the bat was like music to my ears.  I stepped up to the plate.

The pitcher stared me down. He pulled his arm back and released the ball; I had to wait for that right second, that perfect moment where the ball hits the sweet spot, sending it flying into the outfield.

CRACK, like thunder the ball connected with my wooden bat, the ball went flying out in left field. I dropped the bat and took off down the baseline, my cleats digging into the hard ground sending dirt and chalk into the air.  I round first only to be met by a ball getting sent to my next destination, I kicked my right leg out and pulled my body down as my foot hit the second base.

“SAFE!” I stood up and dusted the dirt of my shirt and pants.  My right leg on the base and my left leg leading me to third, I stood there waiting for the pitch.  The pitcher pulled his arm behind his back and looked at me. 

His arm extended and the moment the ball left his fingertips I took off for third. I could hear the ball and bat connect, as I hit third, I turned for a split second to the see ball in mid air to first.

 I rounded third. All I had to do was run 89 feet and I would be home.  I tucked my head down and sprinted as fast as I could.  The opposing crowd was screaming home, home, throw home.

I did the mistake of diving for home plate, my hand connected with the white rubber, the deafening crack of bones breaking echoed through my ears as the catcher’s cleats dug into my batting glove.  The pain shot up my arm, I tucked my arm in and rolled onto my back rolling over home plate.

“SAFE”! Holding my left hand close to my torso I got up and made my way to the dugout. I was rushed to the emergency to room only to be told it was broken, my heart sank, the season had just started and I was officially out!

My glove now sits under my bed collecting dust.  Whenever I smell leather, or smell fresh cut grass, it sparks old memories of the game I grew to love and respect!

Waiting

The skies grow darker, darker then the blackness that engulfs her empty soul.

She peers down at her fingers, slowly tracing in her mind where his soft, warm hand molded with hers.

Her eyes slowly gaze into the night feeling an icy breeze dance across her exposed skin.

Like molases she closes her hand slowly around the ring he so carefully placed on her finger.

A single tear rolls down her cold cheek, the salty drop makes its way to her soft wanting lips.

Her eyes close tightly remembering the way his lips tasted. The way his hand fit perfectly against her cheek, how her body melted into his.

She screams for him, only to get deafening silence in return.

She pulls her legs to her chest and weeps as her heart breaks in two, waiting for him to return to her.

Mothers Morning

Its okay world of mothers, I feel your pain of the morning wake up.  Most mornings we wake up to the screaming and fighting of siblings, the crash of another broken bowl.  The lucky ones get the sweet wake up, the tiny fingers pulling up your eye lids "wakey wakey mommy".

If you have people under 3 foot in your house, that for some odd reason refer to you as mother, mommy, mom, momma you will have experienced the earth shattering morning jolt.

We all sigh, roll out of bed and head to relieve the call of nature, splash some water on our face, straighten our hair just a bit, open the door and walk out of the only alone time we will get for the day. Dodge a ball that wizzes by your head, and start taking breakfast orders.

Our days are filled with screams, cries, abundance of laughter, plenty of hugs, and many kisses.  We take a mental beating, and we wish we could have adult convos, but when asked we wear the Stay at home mother badge proudly.  I just wanted to give a shout out to all the mothers out there who work their butts off taking care of kids, and keeping house.  Even more props to the working moms who do our job plus working for the "MAN"! I raise my cup of coffee to you all!

Two Lives Lost

I look over and see her quietly sitting on the weathered green bench; paint flakes pepper her old tattered jacket.

She sits there staring off into the distance. Years of pain and strain on her beautiful aging face. Her soft, steady, delicate hands, that once held a paintbrush, are now wrinkled, callused, and shaking.

I have seen her many times. I know her story.  I know why the pain is displayed on her face.  I understand the hatred that gleams from her emerald green eyes.

A single tear gracefully rolls down her delicate cheek, like a raging river through the earth; it glides through every wrinkle on her face.

The pain she wears on her face started 60 years ago when she met Albert. Strong and steadfast, yet gentle and kind, it was love at first sight.

...............................

He walked by and his scent invaded my nose, catching me off guard.  I lost my footing and stumbled off the sidewalk. I felt hands grab my arm a booming husky voice asked me

"Are you okay?"

Grasping for words I yelled "I’m Fine!"

Trying to get my composure, I dusted my slightly bruised ego off, while staring at this man walking away from me.  I slowly and silently jump back on the sidewalk and followed him.  A gust of wind dances across my face, his smell, his glorious smell.  I can't keep my delicately painted lips from smiling.  Like a giant cat stalking its prey I study his movements, his arms gracefully swing at his sides, his footsteps are cumbersome, but amazingly graceful at the same time.  As he turns the corner I quietly pick up pace.  I can't lose him; I can't lose this unknown man.

I dart around the corner, then bam like hitting a brick wall, my face buries into a hard chest.  I feel two strong arms wrap around me.  Stunned and in shock i instantly start to apologize. 

"I am sorry" I begin to stammer "I should watch where I am walking" I then thought to myself, I lost all self control trying to get closer to my mystery man.  Every fiber of my being needed to be close to him.

Then like an angry army invading my senses his smell takes hold.  It's him, my heart begins to race, and like a helicopter taking flight it leaps from my chest leaving me alone.  

I slowly look up at him, first catching his broad shoulders, and then slowly moving up. His chin was strong and square, his face was worn but handsome.  Then I looked into his eyes, OH GOD, how they peered into my soul.  Like he was reading me like a book.

"Are you okay?" This booming voice escaped his lips.  

"I am okay, I was rushing and not paying attention to anything around me." Yes rushing I thought to myself, rushing to get closer to you.

He starts to laugh; it was like thunder rolling on a stormy night.

"Now where are you rushing off to?" He asked with a slight smirk on his face.

Quickly I searched my jumbled mind trying to grab an answer that would suit him.

"I have an art class and I am running five minutes late already."

"Really? Well let me walk you there, just to make sure you make it without a doctors visit." He reached down and grabs my hand.  His huge soft hand, his fingers slowly enclose around mine.

"I'm Albert Johnson by the way."  He takes a small step forward as if he was making sure I could still use my legs.

"Hi, Albert. I am Annalisa Westin, but everyone calls me Annie for short." I take a step trying to keep pace with him. 

Then as if a load of gravel was being dumped on me, ART CLASS, they are closed on Mondays... now what!  

The small chatter was nice and intoxicating, I was getting drunk off of him.  When we reached the cold, dark building of my eminent doom, the bright, knife stabbing orange sign out front was taunting me with CLOSED.

He looked down at me with a slight devilish grin on his face.

"Well, I guess they forgot you were coming today."

I looked up at him and with a roar of laughter he threw his head back, His laugh was as contagious as a common cold, I then burst into uncontrollable laughter. What seemed like minutes was only seconds.  Like he flipped a light switch he stopped laughing and peered down at me.  Fear began to set in.  Did he just figure out why I was rushing?

Then he drops down on one knee, NO, he can't we just met. 

With a serious tone in his voice he said. "I guess this means you’re free. So would you find it in your heart to accompany me to a cup of coffee?"

Without letting him finish I screamed yes, then we both burst into laughter again.

We stopped laughing and in one gentle swoop his thumb collected the tear that escaped and was rolling down my flushed cheek. He smiled at me in a way a lover would smile at his loved one, I smiled back hoping he would not notice the wanting I had building inside me.

"There is a coffee shop four blocks from here on the corner, I will meet you there in two hours." I looked up at him with confusion, two hours, why not now? Why can't we just walk hand in hand to the coffee shop?  What if he changes his mind and doesn't show?  I gracefully pulled my thoughts together.

"I would not miss it for the world." I smiled at him again, trying to conceal the hurt, and with all the will power I could gather I pivoted on one foot and walked away.

..................................

The coffee shop was small but quant.  Tables littered the sidewalk.  Some where filled with couples cozied up together, engrossed in conversation.  Others had men and woman who were vigorously writing in little journals.  I wonder what they were writing about. Me? There small existence? The love they had and lost? The woman who was closest to me had tears in her eyes.  

I opened the door and the inside was beautiful. The smell of fresh ground coffee stimulated my senses and instantly gave me the energy I needed to face Albert. The walls were painted a deep burgundy.  Pictures of Paris scattered the walls, neatly framed.  The tables were not like the ones on the sidewalk, these had black linen table clothes with vases that held silk cala lilies.  

My eyes scanned the room; there were only a few people in the coffee shop.  The one that stood out was a man dressed in a black suit.  He had his right foot propped up on his left leg. He looked to be talking to himself, as if he were running a conversation through his mind. I slowly walked to his table, quietly so I did not disturb him. 

"Albert?" I lightly touched his shoulder. He jumped slightly only to turn and greet me with that amazing smile I was graced with earlier.

"Hi Annie, my dear sweet Annie, you look lovely." I looked down at the well-worn dress I was wearing.  It was black, with hints of red through it.

"Thank you." He swiftly got up and pulled the seat across from him out. I sat down and made sure to tuck my dress underneath me.  He took his place across from me. He waved at the waiter and like he was waiting on cue he came walking over to us.  He was tall, skinny, but the look of desperation was on his face.  What has this poor man been through? I felt his pain and sorrow and it was building inside of me.  I had to look down at my hands.  Oh boy my hands, green and yellow paint stained them. While Albert ordered our cappuccinos, I tried to pick as much of the paint I could off.

"So Annie, you are a painter?" He looked at me with question filled eyes.

"Yes, well I would not say a painter, but I do love to paint and one day I would love to see my work at the Museum of Modern Arts in New York." I searched his eyes to see if he approved, only to be met with confusion. 

"Have I seen any of your work?" The waiter came over and placed two white coffee cups on small plates down in front of us.  I grasped my cup in my hand feeling the warmth of the coffee warm my fingers.

"No, I dabble here and there but nothing major, what do you do for a living?" He looked at me and grinned, my heart skipped a beat.

"I am an art curator." My eyes wide open, mouth dropped I stared at him.

"Oh." Oh, really Annie? OH that is all you could say to this amazing man sitting from of you. The one man I fully now believe was made for you.  The one man who would get who you are, and want for yourself in life. He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. He looked at me with a serious look on his face.

"I know you were following me today.  That is why when I got out of your site I doubled back hoping you would run into me. The moment I saw your tiny red lips, your amazing emerald eyes, I was in love with you. Even in passing your smell is invigorating." He looked down at his hands that were folded in his lap. I could tell he was nervous. I started to laugh, not because he was nervous but because here this man was describing my feelings towards him. I placed my hand on the table in hopes he would reach for it. He did, his hand grasped mine.

"Albert, the reason I was following you was because I was in love you with you the moment I saw you walking my way. I felt an electric shock, shock my heart and I knew I had to get to know you. I had to meet you. Every fiber of my being was screaming to be near you. I am in love with you too Albert." We took a moment and stared at each other and in one fluid motion he was up and pulled me into his arms. His lips touched mine creating this lighting bolt of electricity that ran through my body.  I melted into him, it was more then I could ever have imagined. 

.............................

The weeks passed quickly, and Albert and me saw each other everyday. We spent our days at museums and him watching me paint, and our nights talking and laughing. Just being near him was more then I could ask from him. 

One night Albert asked me to meet him at the little coffee shop on the corner. The thought of seeing him that night sent a rush of emotions over me. I walked into the coffee shop and there he was at our table. His eyes met mine and he ran over to me holding me close to him and kissing me with a passion I have never felt from him before. He grabbed my hand and escorted me to our table. As always he pulled my chair out for me. He took his place across from me.  I could see he was nervous and scared. 

"What’s wrong Albert, are you okay?" I stared at him hurt filling me as I looked at my strong man fumbling over himself.

"I want to ask you something." I looked at him with my signature eyebrow raise. He grinned.

"What?" I stammered hoping he would not catch that, but nervous as to what his question could be.

"Annie, my dear Annie." My name running off his lips made my soul seize up.

"I know this may be sudden, but Annalisa, will you marry me, and for sure make me the happiest man alive?" I dropped my coffee cup in panic. Was this happening to me? Was this amazing man whom I fell in love with by first sight asking me to marry him? 

He pulled a small red box out from his lap, opened it up and the most gorgeous ring I have ever laid eyes on.  It had a silver band, with a princess cut diamond in the middle of it.  My hands were shaking at the thought of being his.

"Yes, Yes Albert I will marry you." Tears filled my eyes, before they started streaming down my cheek; he slowly took my left hand and placed the ring on my tiny paint covered finger.  Once he had placed it, he then lifted my hand and kissed my newly decorated finger.

"Annie we must right away, tonight!" Laughing and full of this new feeling, I jumped up ran to him and wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his lips with the lightest kiss I could.

We walked out of the coffee shop and two blocks away was a twenty-four hour wedding chapel. We started our walk hand in hand when I heard a man shout.

"Hey stop right there, you need to empty your pockets and I want that ring on her finger." Albert turned around to be met with a stalky older man holding a gun to Albert’s chest. I could see the desperation in his eyes.  He seemed to have had a hard life and he was wearing it on his face.

"Now fellow, we don’t want any trouble, we are on our way to get married, I would be more then happy to give you what is in my wallet, but don’t take her ring." The stalky man stepped forward into the only light on the street.  His eyes were dark like the night sky; his clothes were tattered and torn.

"I want all of it, everything, your watch too." The man shoved the gun in Albert’s chest. Albert pushed me aside and reached for the gun. The stalky man drew his hand back and then like the world stood still, like my own heart stopped beating. Time stopped dead in its tracks. The sound of gunfire rang through my ears. The smell of gunpowder was nauseating. My stomach began to churn, and bile made its way to my throat. I looked at Albert as he dropped to his knees and the stalky man ran off into the night. I screamed desperately for help but the sound choked me, like the room was closing in and the air was being sucked from my lungs. 

I ran over to Albert’s side, blood was gushing through his fingers like a waterfall over the side of a mountain. He tried to speak, but words were not his first priority. He looked over to where the man stood. He was looking out for me still with life draining from his body; my Albert was trying to keep me safe.

"He is gone Albert." The look in Albert’s eyes was hurt, failure, needing. I ran my fingers through his hair, which was soaked with sweat. I rubbed my finger along his eyebrows, across his face; lastly I put my hand on his heart.  He looked at me and with his last breath he reached up and took my face in his blood soaked hands. 

"I love you my dear sweet Annie." Tears filled my eyes my heart broke in two, no you cant give up, I wanted to shake this man. You cant leave me now Albert. His head fell back and his eyes wide open as if accepting God, he fell to the ground.  I sat there legs crossed to the side holding this man, I knew only for a few weeks, but loved more then my own life itself.

At that moment my life stopped.  I withdrew from his hate filled world, this world that had no reason as to why. I didn't look at painting the same; it had no life in it. It was dead to me; slowly I fell into the darkness that stalky man created for me that summer night. I died.

....................................

I went back to the park the following day, same time, same place, but the old woman was not there.  She was no longer sitting on her bench, wrapped in Albert’s tattered jacket staring at the spot in the street where she held her love for the last time. The spot where that stalky man took Albert’s life.


By: Bable

Alone

I can't breath, it feels as if a ton of bricks was laid on my chest. I am struggling to stay afloat, but the rage of this inner river is dragging me under.

My heart starts racing as if a humming bird were taking flight. Tears flow with every rapid beat.

My worst fear is unfolding in front of me, the end is creeping closer.

 Please dont give up on me.  For I have given up on myself, the glimmer of hope fades as the sun fades at the end of the day.

I have no fight left, so I rely on you to keep fighting for it.

Secrete love

Around my finger I wrap you,
I pull you tight.

I need you but,
I dont!

You are mine, I own you!
You are used and worn.

You feel good on me,
In love with you I fall but,
My love for you is secrete!

I want you in every color but,
I am dedicated to one.

My Brown, Worn, CONVERSE!

Cigarette

Its hard, your an addiction.
My body craves you.
Your just within reach.

I fight the urge, every fiber of my being screams for you!

One puff,
One smell,
just ONE, no i cant you will consume me!

One second at a time,
I fight you,
my moment of freedom will come and you CIGARETTE ill no longer crave!

( This is for you, you know who you are!)

About me

Hello my readers,

I want to first of all say think you for reading my blog second of all I want to say you will a wide range of Writings on here. I do not stick to one particular style.  It is whatever i see around me that i take in and write about.

Thank you!

Bable

Dark

Warning Dark and Possibly Morbid


My heart rips. The once vibrant life giving muscle is now my destruction, the blood pours.
Tears i fight back, hatred is all that shows. Disgust in every movement.
The pain is stabbing yet a longing release.

Death is knowing, only a tattered thread holds it in place.
Suicide is a forbidden love, always thinking, never can touch always wanting.
Blood begs to be spilled, my veins overflowing.

Destruction is eminent.

destruction

She makes her way through the sea of people, sucking them in one by one.  She is more powerful then a hurricane  more powerful then any tornado, because she strategically cuts her path.

Her rage is like a burn, it comes at you with fierce power, it goes deep.  She doesn't stop she just keeps going. She will destroy you if you are not strong enough.

She cries every night, tears of blood stain her face and clothes.  She does not cry for the people she has hurt, but herself. Not because she feels bad, she has no remorse for what she does or has done.

She cries for the emptiness that now engulfs her.  The loneliness of the night that has taken hold, but she has a glimmer of hope,  knowing that tomorrow will come and her destruction will continue and she will destroy the human lives with more force then the day before.

She is deadly to your soul, she doesn't care you cry. She has no empathy for the weak. She is nothing but destruction.

my taboo baby

I walk into the supermarket and nervously dart to the condom section, peering around every corner trying to see if anyone is watching me.  I am young, nervous, and scared, my eyes dart from side to side trying to search for that little box, that life changing box, the one that will determine my fate. I find it, under the condoms and personal lubricants. It peers at me like judging eyes. I quickly snatch it and tuck it safely under my arm.

I pick up pace and quickly make my way to the check out, where i start praying i will find a female cashier.  My mind races with the thought of what will the results of this little box reveal? I choose my cashier slowly, knowing the older lady will peer at me and sneer at what i am bringing to her, the other younger cashier will understand but as i lay the box in front of her, i get that all knowing look the one i know if this box says yes i will have to live with for the rest of my young life. I collect my bag and bolt out the door.  I run to my b.f's car hopping in and slamming the door.  He drives off knowing in a matter of minutes we will find out if our life is forever altered.

I get out of the car and make my way to the house trying to walk slow enough so it does not look like i am on a mission.  I stumble past my parents and finally to the bathroom.  I shut the door and peer at the girl in the mirror.  You can do this, just open the box. I look down at the pink box i hold tightly in my hands as tears start to roll down my face.  I rip it open and the instructions fall out on the floor.  I pick them up unfold the paper, and begin to read how to preform this task i have in front of me.  

I walk to the toilet sit down and begin the journey.  I place the test on the back of the toilet and walk back to the mirror.  I turn on the water wash my hands, and throw water on my face.  Wake up damn you, you did this to yourself.  What seems like hours were only minutes.  I walk back to the toilet and peer down at the tiny white stick that was peering at me on the back of the toilet.  Pink plus, i grab the paper only to rip it in desperation. Pink plus = positive.  I am pregnant.  I carry a life within me.

I fall to the ground holding my abdomen, thoughts rush through my mind. The option creeps into my mind, but i tuck it slowly away in the dark corners of my 15 year old mind. I walk out and he is standing there, the father of our child, the man who gave me the other half to this life i now need to look after. 

I sit in my room day after day knowing i am now the host to this tiny being in my womb.  This being who i will one day hold in my arms.  I smile knowing i will have someone who will love me no matter what, someone i will get to take care of and show the love my parents so selfishly deprived me of.

The call comes, my school wants to do what, they dare challenge me on this.  I am more scared now then when i plucked that pink box off that shelf. Only one thing i can think of, one simple solution i can think of to keep this from  happening.  I can not and will not do this on my own. That thought i tucked away 12 weeks ago now screams at me.  I must, i have to.  It is done.

I now sit in my room day after day, feeling my abdomen where a life ONCE was, that tiny heartbeat, knowing i will never hold my baby in my arms, never feel the warmth of its skin on mine.  Never to see their eyes open and peer into my soul. Never to feel the tiny hands wrap around my finger. Never to hear the I love you mommy, i so desperately wanted to hear. What if, what if.  I can't let that take hold of me.  I need to be strong for her.  Yes her, i felt the bond, the connection, it was a her. 

I can feel the hatred around me, i do hear the snickers behind my back, but i am strong, i will be strong for you my dear sweet baby.  You are my guiding hope in this hatred filled world, this non understanding, unforgiving world.  You, Ashlyn Marie, are my light, you will forever be in my heart and in my mind.  I will see you and we will be together, rest in piece my beautiful soul.  

Mommy Loves You!

grass is greener?

A ladder some binoculars we have all done it, peeked over the other side of that proverbial fence.
Trying to peer at the one we so desperately think is the right one.

We fight this internal battle with ourselves, guns blazing, swords drawn. Only hoping, wishing, dreaming for that one touch or feel from the other side of that fence, but what is on the other side of that fence?

Is it a replacement? Is it an idea? Is it really what we want? We often as humans sit and wonder is it better on the other side of the fence? Do we cross it? More often then not, we are dreamers.  Our imaginations are amazingly strong when we open our minds and let them go.

Try this climb back down your ladder put away your binoculars, look around at what you have and dream about what you already own, what is in your life, let yourself go in your already made world, your predetermined life you have already planned for yourself.  You will find faults on the other side of the fence, you find holes, glitches, blemishes in your imaginational life you have created on the other side. Only to realize that you have the greener side of the fence.

Death

Her knuckles turn white as she grips the steel blade in her hand.

She looks down and watches like a raging river, blood pump through her viens.

In one fluid motion, like a hot knife to butter, the blade connects with her flesh, quickly it splits open.

The blood she watched earlier, begins to flow from the opening on her tiny wrist, as if a dam had been opened.

She slowly closes her dark blue eyes, and with every beat of her heart, she can feel the life escaping her body.

She begins to take shallow breaths, counting down the seconds, knowing that sweat release of death awaits her.