Chilled wind howls,
Nature’s silent scream;
All around life lays dormant.
On solid ground death crunches beneath weary feet;
Innocent play bundled in thick wool,
Tiny hands raw from play,
Laughter beams from grinning teeth,
Watching leaves rain down
Sleepless
Blinding light all around,
Darkness spills through.
Mindless clatter,
A dampened dream,
The gleaming blade deep within;
Blood pours,
Only smears the surface.
Rain crashes,
Such a deafening sound;
Memories flood through small cracks,
The dam breaks.
Frigid air consumes the soul,
Chilling to the bone;
Fear drenched pillow,
Reminds me of sleepless nights;
Morbid dreams and haunting pasts consume cluttered minds.
The Neon Glow of Orange Lace
The night began in a sleepy hollow of closed eyes and naps. A hard day, work, friends, and strangers. Guitar strings play in tuning songs, mopey blues lay flat on couch cushions. Humidity beads over confined space during a time of waiting.
Traveling tires cruise over hot pavement, to a new dive. Live music stings ears in off-key tunes while rumbling hunger awaits piled plates of bun-less burgers and fries.
When the clock strikes, the party begins. Laughter and grins cascade over a flowered cake in celebration. Booze overflows steins and bottles, ninety nine has taken over. Honey drips in a constant streak of attention, the room is owned. Text flows through fingers in comfortable conversation, with unseen friends. Flashing photos spark in the night air capturing a million memories, possibly to be later regretted.
Neon lights dance across checkered floors, while sweaty bodies move, grinding against strange skin. A party of the mind, body, and soul. Shooting shots with strangers, in glowing orange lace. Laughter floats through the smoke filled room lined with pool tables and chalk. Mingling in a large group, against blinded windows and high tables, there he is. Smiling across a sea of movement, I am found.
What was thought to be, is not what is. Just an object, mere entertainment of a ragged being; sought out just to be ignored. Brought forth to a new world, just to burn in a stinging mist. Last call, the party is over. Crowds of heated people fumble, staggering toward the exit; wide and welcoming. For some, the night has just begun, yet, for others it was over long ago.
Flying over dark streets, lit by dim street lamps and headlights, the seconds pass. The night turns into early morning, while restless feet attempt to remain seated. Anticipating the end, unknowingly accepting defeat with a hug and a friendly tap on the back.
All that is left, a memory marked in time . . . the neon glow of orange lace.
The Stranger Files
Stranger Number 3 – May 27, 2012
A trip to Auburn for professional hair color proposed another opportunity for a new meeting. Donna posed for this photo while my mother captured this moment in time. A very sweet and helpful woman, who, at first, was a little weary of my proposition, threw caution to the wind and allowed this photo to be captured. Thank you Donna, for being open enough to be apart of “The Stranger Files”.
The Stranger Files
Stranger Number 2- May 26, 2012
A night out at the Club in New Hampshire brings forth a second amazing stranger. In a liquored state, posing with a blond bombshell, proved to be a blast. A night full of dancing, singing, pool, and ass-slapping fun with her and her friends. A sweet name. A woman who’s essence clings to the air like nectar to a flower. A stranger to be called Hunny. On this night she was out celebrating her birthday
The Stranger Files
The fun begins. My new adventure is taking random photos with complete strangers. An exciting way to meet new people, and a wonderful way to experience the world.
Everyone has a story, and this experiment will explore the adventurous side of anyone I run into.
Follow me on this trip into the unknown . . .
Stranger Number 1 – May 26, 2012
I met this perfect stranger at the ninety-nine in New Hampshire. Drinks were flowing in a group of wild patrons. A birthday bash, in which I knew nobody, except one. After this photo, I learned his name to be Jesse. He’s in a rock band, a bit of a wild child, and use to sport a curly Afro.
We’ll see who strikes me next. This is only the beginning!
Freedom
Engines roar in rumbling waves of adrenaline. Sticky heat cloaks skin laced in chaps and leather.
A free ride, floating over pavement and yellow lines. Meandering turns, blurred landscapes pass by shielded eyes.
Freedom, this is what flying must feel like.
Delusions elude the mind’s process, reality takes a back seat to nowhere.
Flames shoot as speed increases, traveling through time, infinite space.
Someday this will be mine, for now, enjoy the ride.
Dream State
I was being watched. My body sensed the presence of someone hovering over me, wanting my attention, urging me to wake up. The fan rattled on my nightstand, buzzing continuously, drowning out the creeks and cracks of the house. I lay in bed half awake, eyes shut tight, with a feeling in my gut telling me to keep my eyes closed. Throwing caution to the wind I ignored the emotion. Inches from my face stood a child, staring at me blankly.
My son, Logan made a habit of whispering in my ear to wake me in the middle of the night, to battle away ghouls and goblins, turning nightmares into dreams. On this night my son laid tucked in bed, cozy and warm. In the room beside Logan’s, my daughter Emma lay just as peaceful as the rest of the family.
I opened my eyes a slit wider, focusing, and squinting to see the blurry form standing before me. A little girl set still as a deadened breeze, staring at me with cold blackened eyes, eyes that felt as if they could reach into your soul and tickle at the fears hidden deep within. My heart thudded in my chest, loudly pumping in my ears. I was beyond terrified. The unknown appeared right before me. Calming notions of the paranormal being fictitious were boldly torn to pieces in that moment.
Ripples of curls cascaded down the child’s shoulders, flowing inches above a foggy white dress, an image of horror burned into my retinas. I hurled myself across the bed, landing on my husband Andrew. I was frightened into a fit of tears and screaming, waking Andrew out of a deep sleep.
“What the Hell is going on?” Andrew inquired, groggy and confused.
With a shaky finger I pointed towards the apparition. My voice hushed in puffs of heavy breaths, “Is she gone?” My feet scrambled, half kicking myself over Andrew’s body. I wanted out of my bedroom and away from the nightmare I was forced into.
“I don’t see anything.” Andrew stated, propping up halfway with one elbow. “She’s over there,” waving my arm frantically towards my side of the bed. “Is she gone? Please, please, please, tell me she’s gone?” My voice cracked into a pleading whimper.
Andrew did not see a thing, not even a speck of dust floating through the air. My sanity was at stake, and damn it I am not crazy. With a flick of the switch our bedroom lit to a muted glow. Shivers quivered down my chilled skin as I hastily relived the terror that awoke me, spilling every detail to Andrew. Andrew’s head fumbled to the pillow below; perhaps he was too tired to care. Snores filled the room before I could finish the tale of the evening. I was on my own, left frightened to my very core, without a hand to hold.
I took a deep breath and climbed back into bed¸ flipping the light off as I tightly squeezed my eyes shut. My mind raced almost as fast as my heart. My senses heightened, or so I thought. Every noise I heard sent chills down my spine. The image of the little girl’s empty eyes froze in my mind. I tossed and turned the rest of the night, crumpling the bedspread under restless feet. Hours to go until the break of dawn, and I was no closer to falling asleep.
Dim moonlight cast slits of light through cracked curtains, splashing dancing shadows across my bedroom walls. With every flicker of light, I swore it was a ghost, my mind refused to think rationally after what woke me. For the last time I closed my eyes attempting at sleep, my comforter pulled tightly by my neck, my head barely peeking out. Out of nowhere my left calf began to tingle with goose bumps in a cold chill. Isolated to one spot, the cold intensified, like a hand gripping my leg. I breathed deeply willing the sensation away; no such luck. I rolled over rubbing my calf warning off the chill. As quickly as the feeling set on, it went away. This continued to happen over different parts of my body, isolated chills pricking at my skin. Each time I rolled over the cold prickles would move, grabbing another part of me. The thrill of the night continued until morning. The following few nights proved to be just as restless, fear turning the ordinary into what nightmares are made of.
To this day I do not fully understand what I experienced that night. Perhaps I came into contact with a lost soul left here to roam this earth or I could have been in a dream state, where the mind thinks it’s awake, though the eyes illusions prove to be a dream. I only saw the little girl once more since that night, although I do get the spine tingling cold chills from time to time. If I was a skeptic before, I am no longer.
A Perfect Deam
A random act, a quick decision, changes rough tides
An encounter, a match brought on by fate
Glancing momentarily at the divine, sharpens the mind for a night of lust
Failed by technology, a ride begins lost in an unknown land
Towers bounce, ringing with a comforting voice humming through the line
Direction pointing through the lights, parked by horses and feathers
Walking forth, hidden in plain sight, he emerges
The adventure begins
Casual and comforting conversation wafts across the table
Seated within a booth hidden in the back of a secret hole in the wall
Plastered walls confine laughter and whiskey grins
Following, walking through emptying streets, a train faces union
Tracks spread across, in rails of travel, near grassy patched ground
Switching paths at a moments notice
Traveling forth in a group, drowning in liquor and rhythm
Smoke surrounds in lit cherries and crunching ice
Excitement runs thick in veins pumping with raced heartbeats
A touch, fingers brush against bare skin, leaning against denim and chains
loud voices, dancing, moving bodies spread across antiqued wood as tables vibrate with melody
Darkness falls,
The moon casts glowing light through a clouded night sky
Droplets of rain wash over passion, in cooling heat
The night has only begun, an adventure of the unknown
where will this go?
Lasting forever in memory,
This feels like a dream, perfection lasting only in a sleepless mind.
Hours pass, could this be?
Lived once, again, and again, a moment worth reliving
Possibly too good to be true,
Must be,
Just a dream . . .
,
Splintered
Battered and bruised, goes along with the emotional title wave of the everyday. A bright shiny new door should await a new beginning, but the future holds a splintered barn door instead. A door filled with secrets of the unknown, waiting for the first foot to step through. A hesitant feeling rushes over sane minds, holding back such possibilities.
The “what-if’s” of the everyday race in steams of symbols to be deciphered.
The leap into a new world should be thought through, considered with quite deliberation of all aspects and failures. On the other hand, who made such rules to follow, and why must we follow the orders of an unknown source?
In strides of hesitation ruby slippers waltz to to the splintered door; danger ripples off aged wood in invisible waves of energy. The door is fighting back, pushing at bare skin. Screaming silent screams of warning to turn around.
Muscles tense in fibers of strength, pushing past fear, eluding unknown peril. Risking the future in tiny ruby strides. Moving forward, smashing rewind, only to push fast-forward in a panic; nothing but new possibilities await.
Fumbling fingers flip at the rusty latch; the door swings open, in creaking crackles. Blinding light turns slit eyes with a blurry canvas. With one step forward invisible hands pull, leaving ruby slippers behind, perched before a closed splintered door.
The journey begins . . .
bluegreengodwin 