My Innards!

My innards threatened to become my outtards… don’t question me… I had a fever. I honestly had so much more than a fever… but the fasten seatbelt sign burrowed into the psyche of my moral standards… well liabilities really. Not only that, but the stay in the airport the night before hadn’t done much for my hygiene at the time… I think the baby next to me is seriously opposed to my stench. “He’s flown before. He’ll be good” Yeah. He’s fine alright.

I couldn’t wait. I released myself from the restricting grip of the seatbelt and shot for the stall. The flight attendant looked at me with wary eyes, but the eyes of a mother were now soft as I explained my health… and she saw the color draining from my face. A mother knows… the obvious.

We traveled down the tarmac as I slushed out my entire day’s previous meals. When I could finally stand, the flight attendant knocked to give a minute warning for the takeoff. Fine… but I looked to the toilet for only a glance to indicate my intent to return.

The take off was not the easiest, but the child agreed with me… Honestly kid… you don’t know true suffering. My intestines were devolving. Fine… I shall return to my capsule of a prison. But first… “Ma’am we have a seat open in the back if you and your son would follow me…” Bye kid.

Side note… I was using the first class cabin’s restroom… well I was in business… but I couldn’t enjoy it… because the very movement involved in ordinary flight seemed to send my stomach into even more of a tizzy.

“Can I get you some ginger ale sweetheart?” Under normal circumstance, the term ‘sweetheart’ would wrench my stomach, but she was kind, and I was already too nauseas.

“Pick out a snack too… The granola bar would be good to settle your stomach…”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ve all been there.”

The warmth behind her smile made my queazy line of lips turn upward at the edges. I sat with my complimentary snack-age and tried to settle myself. I must’ve chewed about five tums… I could’ve paid twenty bucks for some pepto.

I ingested more, but my body didn’t want it… Too late. The brief forty-five minute flight was now minutes from landing.

“Damn…” My empty can was tossed, and the half eaten granola bar was looked at by my favorite flight attendant. “You should try to finish that.”

“Thank you” I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t argue with her either.

If you could believe it my condition was deteriorating further… Up until that point I had kept disposal of my waste to my rectal region, but now… the new contents of my stomach were not being warmly welcomed.

The worst landing of my life then ensued catching the attention of the other flight attendant… She would have to be an idiot to not notice. I was hyperventilating as to not projectile vomit everywhere.

“Are you okay” I could have smacked her… in what world would I be okay…?

I shook my head and she asked again fifteen seconds later. “Do you think I could get off early…?” We landed. I was trying to ask her if I could stand up, but apparently she was an idiot… Eventually, when we came to a complete stop, she said, “You can try.” Of course I can try, but its too late now.

I made it off the plane. I don’t think I said thank you to anyone, but the stench of my tarmac Hershey squirt-age now carried itself up the ramp to my rescue point, the restroom stall now forever graced with almost all my bodily mis-functions.

In all honesty, I don’t know how I made it to the luggage. I was subconscious and everyone kept their distance from me so… that’s probably why. If anyone would’ve crowded me my body would’ve rejected them, dramatically.

I have never endured more bitter suffering in my entire existence.

To the delta flight attendant who assisted me… Thank you from the bottom of my being.

Much love to you and your travel experiences.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

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the beach

~Flashes of fiction~

 

Patrick is a man of many forms, but today, as he walks from one edge of the earth to meet the ocean’s welcoming frigidity, he is but a man. His lungs expand, filling themselves with the same essence as those around him now inhale, allowing the scent of the sea to inhabit them.

Chirps of distant cheering children skate across the surface of the waves just before they tumble against the shores subtly displaced sand. He moves to walk along the edge of the shore, “oh, excuse me…” the girl’s blackened lips parted slightly as her densely eye-lined eyes filled up with a common courtesy, “No problem.” He moved past her, but the remnant of her similar nature resounded in each mull of a wave’s displacement. Even goth girls go to the beach…

He walked as another being, a tanned man with broad shoulders, a defined physique, and unconcerned eyes, trotted passed. He turned to watch the man pass a few girls who cutely chattered as he passed. A screeching child darted into his path, stopping his observation. “Phoebe! Wait for me!” Her mother now moved passed him giving a simple smile as she went onward towards the little version of her.

The place around him seemed to be motion itself, yet it fueled his calm, a dense pulse now pushed him to sit atop the sand. The occasional “Shark!” would echo out, but no shark would ever be active. The sun’s high throne topped everyone with a layer of its rays allowing for the general white population to turn a nice shade of pink.

“Excuse me… You’re my history teacher from high school… don’t you remember me?”

He looked up into the young woman’s face and smiled warmly. “I’m sure… Oh! You’re Amy!” She smiled at his enthusiasm that was now mirrored in hers. She nodded and gestured, “May I sit?” He nodded in response.

“So this is how you were always such a calm teacher… and why everyone enjoyed your classes.”

“You still remember me so it must be true.”

“Of course… Hey you remember a guy named Tommy?”

“What does he look like?”

“Here…” She ruffled the items in her bag to pull a phone from it. Her hand held a picture of him. He smiled and nodding, a memory of the classroom clown clowning his way to the principal’s office in many of his other classes, but his antics had always been a welcomed comic relief to the density of history lessons.

“Well… he died. Yesterday he was hit on his way home and…” Amy’s words stopped as she choked back an apparent rush of emotion. Something clouded him, pulling him from the sound of the waves and the squawks of the guls.

“I am so sorry… He was an amazing person.”

“How do you know that.” She almost snarled with the response. He smiled softly.

“He was one of my favorite students…”

The words seemed to settle somewhere deep inside her eyes. She pooled like the waves her clear eyes now reflected. She let slip the emotions one by one. He turned to look out at the ocean, feeling somehow displaced by each wave.

He was one of my favorite students… Tommy. 

The waves seemed heavy as they released their weight and gravity’s upon the surface of the earth. The screeching children and echoing seagulls seemed harsh. The glint of shine from the spiked choker of the goth girl seemed a bit too much for the noon time’s sunlight. He sighed, closing his eyes. The sounds gave him something simpler to ponder.

He was an amazing person. Gone or not… Yes, he wouldn’t continue to affect the people around him, but the people had affected him were here now… On a beach, surrounded by life itself.

Patrick… A man of many forms now watching a beach and appreciating life. Realizing that life itself was and is and always will be beauty.

 

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

Coffee.

Coffee.

Hello I am Tiffany.

A generic white girl.

I’m not really that generic.

The world doesn’t know that though.

No one knows me…

So maybe I am generic.

Generic? Or just boring.

Nah. I’m just bored.

 

Example one:

I was walking home, my dog having peed a couple times in the same places she manages to every day. She looked up at me just before we reached the driveway to the barely inhabited abode my parents had left for me. They died a few years back. Natural causes. Suburbia just gave them too much to be content with. Now here I was, taking two more steps and looking up to see what my dog was barking at. I just watched them. Two robbers carried the plasma I had from my house, taking it as their own. I don’t really like TV, so I just watched them. I think I even smiled when they caught sight of me. Just a simple smile. My television was gone just as simply.

 

Example two:

I was walking to work. The parking garage was across the street. I huddled along with most of the others from my office building. A coworker worked his way towards me. “Hey Tiff” His voice was a happy tune. It was ignored. He slid his arm over my shoulder. “Hey Tiff.” “Tom, if you’re going to touch me unnecessarily, then do it in the office so the HR woman can see you.” The indifference, or the words that dripped in the stuff seemed to scare him off. Indifferent, as a few suits and ties around me laughed loudly.

 

Still unconvinced?

 

Example three:

I was walking in the park. A seemingly homeless lady approached me. She held up her hand. I shook it. “I’m Tiffany.” The woman looked startled and hobbled away, suddenly more sound in her step.

 

I haven’t felt feeling in a while. I don’t know why. I have everything deemed substantial substantially, and yet, all the substance in my life is void. Generations previous have strived for this so-called ‘bliss’, but here I am with a house, dog, job, and healthy body and nothing to feel about it.

Yeah, I don’t have a wife and kids, but that’s just because I’m 24, and none of the perverts at work appeal to me. Bars aren’t my scene. I haven’t had wine outside my house in years. I only just now decided to use the glasses from the crystal cabinet. The process was unbelievably un-titilating.

 

Who are you?

Generic?

Boring?

Bored?

I don’t really know who you are. I’ve gotten stuck where I’m at, and this is all there is for me… Tiffany. The generic white girl. Boring and bored of all things enveloped in existence. I’m successful by means of society life, but living… That’s the stuff of legend. You heard of it? I would love to stay and chat, but I’ve got monotony to return to. Maybe we could grab coffee again.

 

I left that coffee shop with little means of recovery, but you tried. Offered another day of your time, but your life actually beckoned you. You’d be somewhere else with other, more awake, people. A person more alive. A person that mattered. I wish I mattered, but my inability to feel also prohibits me to care enough to do anything too strenuous about it. Also, if you aren’t willing to pull me from the pit of the null and the void, then empty is where I shall stay.

 

But coffee was nice.

A.Lone.


Everyone has the same face.

It keeps the distance.

The safety grasps them all with its cold nature.

Too many people, but everyone is alone.

 

“Umm excuse me little girl, you shouldn’t stand too close to the edge; the wind will sweep your little self away.”

I nod. My feet move away from the edge.

The woman’s aged hand reached itself out of its glove and pulled its way towards me. I cringed. She chuckled. Something in the way she did it wasn’t right. I looked back to her. She morphed into something monstrous and lunged towards me. I hurled myself backward in a flurry of instinct. “Oh come now little girl, won’t you step away from the edge?” My body was already over the water’s beckoning depths. A massive claw-riddled hand wrapped itself around my ankle, and I could only watch as my head met cement.

I have long since walked away from the little old woman. Its easier to imagine strangers as giant beasts that can kill you rather than face the reality of what they actually are.

 

My evening has always been the same.

I walk through the lobby greeted by the usual glance of the security crew. They see me too much to smile at my presence. It makes my stay at the building a solid one. I have been living in the dog friendly complex for two lease cycles. Its paying off. My sanity is slowly dwindling away as I am succumbing to the monotony of working life.

The sudden urge to push myself through the nearest window nearly overtook me. My stomach tightens as I opened my door. The view I’d fallen in love with as a child moving into her first place by herself is now a nuisance. A room with a bed is now something of an inescapable black hole pulling me into it every night for the passed too many nights.

A slice caused me to fall to one knee. I couldn’t cry out, the grip of a creature too opaque to get a handle on now pulled me into the core of itself. I reached for the nearest blunt object, but my mind was slowly fading into the darkness I caved into.

 

I’m awake.

Something is different. Something is always different, but somehow familiar, but this scent is all to new. “Good morning little one…” I look up into a new face. Was this my avid imagination spewing its usual ambiguous craziness…? “Who are you?” “Someone from your company who followed you home yesterday.” I look at him, perplexed. “Did it take you all night to pick the lock on my door?”

He sat on the side of my pit and peeked in. The face that looked down on me was… is…

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for about a month now… I wasn’t sure if you were truly deaf or if I was just imaging it… but… I think you are.” “I’m not.” I can see his face erupt with surprise. I laugh half-heartedly in response. “Why are you in my apartment…” “Why shouldn’t I be… I am just a concerned coworker… and you seem so alone.” Something ominous rests about his gaze.  “I need a good reason to tell the police. Should I just label you as a common stalker?” I reach for the phone awaiting my touch on the nightstand. His sudden grip is tight around my wrist. He is on top of me. I can’t breathe.

This is real…

Everywhere his hands go my consciousness goes with them. I can feel too much. He’s inside me before I even think of hurting him back. His face is against my neck, but I can still see it. All of him burns through my veins and I can’t breathe… I can’t think…

My mind is fully aware of him leaving. I could practically push him out the door, but my body is left without enough… enough.

Fear. Yeah, there’s always the ever present fear of the unknown which dictates life, but my warrant for fear has never been so real. This is real… What just happened was… and still is.

The heat kicked on. The noise, a jolt through my entire core… I pull myself from the clutches of wet sheets soaked in too much of what happened. I run to the bathroom. The shower is the only place behind a double locked door and a wall full of steam that could shroud me. Cover me and not touch me.

 

I haven’t left my abyss for days.

This apartment costs money. Money comes from work. Work is where I am sure to see that… that.

I can’t. I keep calling in sick. Yesterday and today, reaffirming my illness. I feel sick. Sicker than I’ve ever been before. I can’t. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I should see a doctor. What can they give me to fix this… this?

I operate only on instinct calling the one soul within humanity who is able to send me something even over a telephone signal. “Hello mom…” Sobs stop me. “Oh sweetie what’s wrong. I’m here baby, just tell me what happened.” Words…. They pour out to her. Only she can decipher what I spew. I don’t even know, let alone, understand. I’m more confused voicing it out loud than when it was happening.

“Sweetie… I’m booking a flight now. I will be there in a few hours. You need to be there in that apartment when I get there okay? I love you so much, and I’m going to destroy that little fucker. Oh my love…” Her voice softly drifts out to my lone existence. “You are not alone… I am here for you and I love you and I will never hurt you. Know this.”
I know. “I love you too.” I hang up, tense with the notion of it. I turn myself over to sleep on the couch and await the arrival of my savior in the silence of unconsciousness.

 

My mother is stronger than anything I’ve ever seen.

She was there with me when I spoke to HR. She and all her law studies made sure the man was fired and in court on Monday for a hearing. He’d soon be imprisoned for, maybe too much time, but my mother insisted it wasn’t enough compared to how much her daughter had suffered.

Watching her act so swift and direct makes me feel something. Its like a piece of my core gets sparked and burns the rest of me into flames dwindling suffering into ashes that then fertilize the potential of my future.

I walk out of the courthouse with a new sense of purpose, to find purpose.

 

“It’s a beautiful world we live in with a solid justice system if one knows how to work with it… but some people don’t see it that way. They see a place filled with monsters and everyone being out to get them. I suppose its easier that way. Assuming everyone is out to destroy you rather than opening yourself up to only the possibility of a life not alone. You want some more tea, sweetie?”

I smile. I want more tea. I want more. I am so lucky to look into the face of love and no longer feel alone.

The waitress replenished our table with tea. Her smile is warm and her words soft, but her eyes pool ever so slightly with the nervous task of eye contact. “I love your hair.” My thank you is solidified by my smile. She walks away, no giant monster becoming her.

People are people. Not monsters.

 

 

A lone moment sent me into the grasp of reality.

The reality of true vulnerability.

of true pain.

true fear.

true love.

true sureness.

true change.

 

 

Everyone has their own face.

Their cold indifference is the distance that keeps everyone feeling safe.

The safety implies that there is something to be cherished.

Too many people, but everyone is alone… so then… are we truly alone?

 

 

Writers Notes;

Feeling alone is the worst of all the feelings… in my opinion. It is often the cause of evil, if not for direct contribution than for the the allowance of it to take root and flourish. It can be the sole cause of mental illness or worsen it. It is easy to fix, but difficult to overcome. Solidarity in one’s solitude can be both liberating and depressing. Knowing of its existence can also have the same set of effects.

Here’s my advice. Try new things. Go to new places. Talk to strangers. (You don’t know if they’re too weird unless you talk to them;)

Remember, that person you see and think, “We’d be really good friends” probably struggles from the same fear of social interaction and need for attention that you do. So don’t succumb to the fear, if not for your sake than for theirs.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

love’s a burrito pt. 3

“Hello Daria… my old friend”

I look up at the voice’s face. “Bruce…”

His smooth skin welcomes the soft touch of my finger tips. My mouth moves towards him. My hands grip him. The pulse in my neck quickens and threatens to betray the smoothness of my movements. He is there. Solid and secure awaiting my next move.

I breath him in. His entire being almost known to me. It isn’t just his perfected exterior features that have drawn me to him. I know what he holds inside himself to be so much more to yearn for. All it takes is for my lips… my tongue… my teeth… to unlock him and allow what’s inside to be revealed.

Just one bite…

The warmth spills over my soul and I feel… choked. I wake up, my pillow triggering my gag reflex.

Well, this day will be including a trip to my local burrito dealer…

This is who I am. There is no one better for me. I am to content to live as a being… who loves a burrito.

 

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this little series of very brief and realistic fiction. Parts one and two are on this blog site somewhere if you haven’t read them yet.

I hope your life is enjoyable with people to enjoy it with. Much love to you and yours.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

love’s a burrito pt. 2

A month has passed since the final experience with… that beloved burrito. I am back at the place of my forgotten collateral damage. It has taken me a while to mow over all that it’d meant to me, but here I am, the toilet, a distant nightmare. In this moment, I am ready for my new love.

Its simple, stand in line, order, and then wait for the creation to be bestowed upon me, but something interrupts me… that guy… THE guy. My stomach takes a tumble. It is the sudden resurgence of those memories I repressed so this experience would be enjoyable. The tension in my abdomen is an unwelcome sensation.

“You and I used to eat here all the time… I should have expected to see you”

You didn’t have walk over to me to make that clear. “The burritos are great.”

“Yeah, if you can handle explosive diarrhea”

Powers of observation are still elusive to this one, but still my face tells of the discomforts of the previous month’s events. He smiles sadly at me and his fingers touch my shoulder. My rectum recoils, but I manage a strained smile in return.

I calm myself and refocus on my life’s objective. I never received support from him in the end, so now I smile and walk away with a confident sense of ease. My abdominals release as I look to my future endeavors with opened eyes. This is a place of sanctuary. I walk towards the welcoming reception of the individual waiting to help me create my love once more.

love’s a burrito pt. 1

I can’t even look at him.

He keeps going on and on about how I have made him feel these past five months and he thinks I don’t feel anything but all I feel is the intense urge to relieve myself.

“I know we’ve been though a lot, but I think it’d be better…”

What would be better is if we continued this at another time.

The past few months were wonderful, but right now, none of that matters. That sacred meal last night with all the cheese and warmth and happiness enveloped in that tortilla… It was those beans… those cursed beans.

“If I could live it all over again I would…”

You’re right… I regret nothing… The burrito was worth it all.

My face is having trouble hiding the verging catastrophe threatening to breach its blow hole, but he won’t even begin to notice. He’s talking in circles about all that we meant to him. Maybe we should break up. If he can’t see I’m in need of a trip to the stall… not that I wouldn’t enjoy stalling this. I don’t know. My prairie dog setup in my rectal region isn’t contributing any to my care for this relationship.

“Hmmm, maybe we should break up…”

 

I hope you enjoyed this flash of fiction. Parts 2 and 3 are coming soon. I hope you enjoy this day as any day and look for the beauty of every moment.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~