I felt my body jolt, my eyes snapped open.  I heard something or at least I thought I did.  Tossing my covers, I crawled out of bed to investigate.  As my feet touched the floor, the cold tiles sent an electrifying chill up my spine.  Goose bumps appeared on my arms like water beading up on a waxed car.  Folding my arms across my chest, I headed to the living room.  My eyes took a while to adjust to my surroundings and my mind, still foggy from sleep.  I heard chatter beyond.  Indistinguishable voices, muffled.  A sudden thump echoed in the silent night.  My breathing stopped.  Read the rest of this entry »

Jasmine walked through the woods unable see clearly beyond ten feet. She raised the oil lamp near her face to shed light in front of her. The branches and twigs cracked beneath her feet. Her feet, charred and scraped along her bare skin left dabs of blood with each footstep. The fog was unusually thick. Jasmine swayed her arms out in front of her as if swimming in molasses. Just beyond the thickness, she was able to see dark shadows. Jasmine continued to swim through the fog, heading in the direction of the blurry vision. Her vision becoming clearer and the fog less heavy, her heart began to palpitate. She was becoming anxious knowing that she finally would survive the night and seek help. All Jasmine wanted was to be home with her mother. She longed for the sweet apple fragrance that lingered in the air from her mother’s special pie. She longed for her mother’s protective arms wrapping around her body, squeezing her bosom against her chest, feeling the safety of her mother’s heartbeat.

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It’s funny how things turn out as you get older.  As I sit here wondering what to write, I took advice from one of my friends to think about an experience in my life, and that’s when things became interesting.  Especially when you reflect on the past and your childhood friends–the times you laughed and the times you cried.  It’s interesting as the days pass and the years progress, your friends grow distant like the probability of hitting the winning numbers to the powerball lottery.  As one travels through life and endures the experiences of adulthood, how easy our past friends simply fade like the pages in a worn book.

This is what I’ve pondered and come to realize.  This is not to say that I am choosing to dwell in the past, but rather reflect on it.  When certain current events take place, they may affect you and they may not until you get that phone call one day.

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The night was warm with slight humidity in the air.  A few co-workers and myself were at the bar enjoying the night, celebrating the hard effort we’ve put in over the past few months.  The bar was cozy.  We sat opposite of the entrance about a hundred feet away and a few paces to our right, the bar.  We were a huge party, about fifty and occupied a good third of the floor space.  The bar itself was decently lit with a candle on every table of four creating a softer ambiance. 

At our table, were a few pitchers of the house beer strategically placed at each square table merged together like a checkerboard.  Paul grabbed the pitcher and refilled a few of our glasses; Megan who sat to his right, Daisy who sat across Megan and mine to the right of Daisy.  As Paul refilled the glasses, I observed his features.  The soft glow from the candle danced on his face and highlighted his hazel green eyes with gold flecks. His medium brown hair had a light caramel touch and his rough, unshaven beard looked more like a soft patch of fur.  Although I have worked with Paul a few years, I never noticed how handsome he is until now.  I observed every single angle of his face:  his cheekbone, his jaw line, his brow bone, and his lips.  Placing the pitcher down, Paul glanced at me and we locked eyes for a few seconds.  Picking up his glass, he raised it, stood up from his seat and prepared a toast.

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Sun. Silver hair shines.
Sips hot tea, spreads jam on bread,
Looks up, face beaming.

Lost, found, pinstripe pants.
Anger, frustration, lawsuit.
Pain, misery, home.

As the doors opened, a man boarded the train and stumbled upon the newspapers scattered across the floor. The man appeared to be in his late forties, early fifties. He had a full head of hair, yet white. He had sky blue eyes and his skin, youthful.

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It was 3AM and I quickly exited the office building and walked home.  The rain finally stopped.  A few street lamps highlighted the wet streets and the weather was nice and warm.  My footsteps echoed through the night.  I heard additional footsteps behind me.  I turned around.  A woman with long, blonde, wavy hair shimmered in the dim lights was about 15 feet away.  Her hair flowed off her shoulders.  She wore a long white raincoat and black high heels.  I looked straight ahead and continued walking.  I picked up the pace to distance myself from the strange woman, crossed the street, and pulled out my iPod. 

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I took a gulp from my Bottington and placed it on the ledge. I approached the table and analyzed the layout of the balls on the dark green felt highlighted by the dim light above. I chalked the tip of my stick. I had two balls remaining a three and an eight.

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“Oh man my back is killing me.” I stood up from my desk, rubbed my lower back and stretched out.

“You should see a chiropractor, even better an acupuncturist.” Jason interjected and stood up from his cubicle, which was to the right of me.

“No!” Larry shot up from his cubicle in front of me. “Don’t go to a chiropractor, they’re not good.”

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