It was an accident.

The thought echoed across his mind as the blood splattered against his windshield.

His hands shaking, he continued to stare at the crimson marked across his vehicle. Slowly, he moved his hand down towards the lever controlling the windshield wiper. Hesitantly, he clicked it down once.

He knew. Even as he watched the glass smear, he knew it wouldn’t go away.

He was so cheap that he wouldn’t get the windshield wiper pump fixed. A measly 40 bucks. It wasn’t even that hard to replace. He knew that he wouldn’t get someone to replace it. He’d be down another 40 bucks on labor. He would never do that.

Now, he couldn’t see. The lines of the old wiper drew red lines across his vision. What little sight was available was through a thin sheen of clouded burgundy. And another swipe of the wiper only made it worse.

He couldn’t slow down. He knew that was the wrong decision.

He wasn’t right for prison. He knew people who had gone to prison. They were covered in ink and permanent scowls. He was generally pleasant to be around. He couldn’t go around with a scowl. Then, people wouldn’t like him anymore. And work didn’t approve of visible tattoos. They couldn’t be on his neck or sleeve. It was for the customers, they had said.

Now through the red, bright lights shown. Flashing through muck on the glass, it hit his eyes in blinding red light. Then, the lights went to the left and the right circling and turning around his windshield like bright pixies. And, they were gone as fast as they came. The sounds of blaring horns leaked past the generic pop radio.

He had only ever listened to the radio because a female co-worker said that they like 93.5. He needed to seem normal. They never thought of him as normal. Maybe if he listened to that same radio, he would have something to talk with them about. It was always confusing. What was normal? What wasn’t?

The horns came again. This time they were louder. It was as if they were patronizing, accusatory.

His palms were sweaty gripping onto the wheel.

Like a waterfall, tears crept down his face. He didn’t mean to. Oh God! He didn’t mean to.

No! He had to think of anything but the damn red that was clearly in his sight. He didn’t mean it.

Red light leaked into his vision. This time it was brighter than he could have ever imagined.

It was an accident.

Every scar

A threaded line

Sadness’ score

Reason and rhyme

Stitch of sorrow

Seeded deep

Sew teardrops fall

On grief, replete

Thorns and thistles

Peddled pain

Bartered souls

Red roses stain

Dyed, once wrought

Tides’ mandala

Peace’s knot

Remnant of awe

You’re awake,

but you don’t want to be.

Today

is not your cup of tea.

Roll over

and you’ll go back to sleep.

But then

You’re talking to a friend.

They ask

when they’ll see you again.

But oops,

you only dreamt of them.

It’s time,

but you’re still in denial.

Really,

Why is this such a trial?

Breakfast!

Food... It has been a while...

Alright,

you guess you are worthy

of self care.

If you don’t try, who will?

So rise

and make your cup of tea.

Swift, sweet kisses

Exchanged in the shelter of darkness

They hide in thick shadows,

Skirting around brick walls

They delve into nooks and crannies,

Scurrying from the sound of heavy footsteps

They exist for all to see,

Keeping the truth in their hearts

Under lock and key,

Never to be opened

They try so hard,

Messily muffling their feelings,

Holding them sacred from prying eyes

Deep down, they know,

All the people that would disapprove,

For the Bible says it should be so

So everyday they go on,

Silencing the piercing pain,

Actors in a twisted masquerade

If they act like it means nothing,

Maybe it'll someday be true

Desperately they mask

Their forbidden romance,

Burying it in the sanctuary of night,

Keeping their love from plain sight

But I’ve had this strange fantasy:

First you sneak into a public swimming pool. Has to be public.

Now. You get a few tons (tons!) Of jell-o and you turn the entire pool into a huge tub of jello. (Wouldn’t recommend eating. Too much chlorine in the water, not to mention pee).

Now, once the jello solidifies (is that the term?), it’s time for the real fun.

I have a few games i want to try.

Skipping stones on jello,

Golfing on Jello,

Bobbing for apples, in jello,

Of course when were done fooling around (we’re probably really pissed by now..) We start throwing things in, see what happens.

Will a bowling ball sink in jello? Are you that sure of the answer?

How about those cheap plastic chairs? Wouldn’t you want to know?

How many empty cans could jello support?

Then we will go to the deep end, each one gets a baseball and throws it down into the jello as hard as he can. Who could reach the bottom?

The possibilities are really endless and with the help of friends you could come up with more.

Boy are the staff going to have a hard time tomorrow...

Adventure’s here below;

A list before I kick it

Wishes ’fore I go

The proverbial life’s bucket:

See the Eiffel Tower

Walk beaches on an isle

Kiss in a rain shower

A fifteen minute mile

Sleep a seaside shanty

Or house built in a tree

Drive across the country

Travel on the sea

This is just a list

Made up on the spot

My true desire’s this

Before I die, I’ve sought:

To empty all, as pressed

Giving of myself

Every ounce of love, expressed

My wine upon the shelf

In hearts of those I’ve known

And even strangers, too

Words, my heart, seeds sown

Even, somehow, touching you

I’m nervous but ecstatic. I can’t seem to hold still. My leg bobs up and down as I sit in this chair listening to the final instructions. There are so many details! I try to be like a sponge and soak up everything. What if I forget something? Could it possibly be life threatening if I do? No, of course not; I’ll be safe and everything will go well. But what if... Nah girl, chill. Besides, a couple of your absolute best friends are here, and they’re not any smarter than you. You can help each other. Oh yeah. Okay! Now pay attention!

I’m putting on the equipment and this is getting real. I look around and I can’t think of anyone more fantastic to be jumping out of an airplane with. Finally, it’s time. Take off is exhillarating! Kind of like the flight to this gorgeous island, but without the crouded, noisy atmosphere. This atmosphere is soaked in purpose; anticipation; determination.

The guy is standing by the opening I’m about to hurl myself from. Well, not hurl. He’s reminding me exactly what to do. I’m confident. Well, now I’m looking out from the opening, and am suddenly not sure. Every cell in my body is screaming that I should not do this thing! But I have always wanted to! Also, I paid enough for it...

I say a prayer in my head as the man tells me it’s time. I can’t. I will though!

I am falling. Nothing beneath me. Am I screaming? Whooping? I’m not sure what I am doing. My eyes are streaming though! I try to forget the nothing feeling in my limbs and look around at the beautiful lush green island and clear blue sea below me.

Everything I learned comes again to my mind. I know exactly what to do to land safely.

Reveling in this feeling, I feel. I did it!! How long have I dreamed about this?! Thank you universe and island and creator! Everything came together!

I definitely whoop as I land. What a great day!

″

Skydiving in Hawaii

An image laid before

Created by the light

Void of substance; hollow

Dark as ebon; night

The shadow of my being

A silhouette; my form

Body and its tracings

Absent; spirit, soul

The all within my vessel;

Ephemeral, my frame

Perished, poured, immortal

Eternal, burns love’s flame

Credit:

ESO/J. Emerson/VISTA. Acknowledgment: Cambridge Astronomical Survey Unit

If you run (for exercise) as if Hillary believed you were going to testify against her, would you be an Olympic sprinter in three weeks?

If inclusion of illegal aliens, non-citizens, and those of 16 years of age are required to vote in US elections, just how bad are your policies that overwhelming numbers of legal aliens that become citizens and citizens, 18 and over, are NOT already enough for you to win elections?

Would you abandon your policies on legal abortions (murder) if the newly born could vote in elections?

.

.

"Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams" --- S.A saches

—

she drops on to her knees. the force keeping her going on is gone and her arm slacks at her sides. there’s an empty feeling in her chest she can’t name. her lungs are constricted, tight, the air around her suffocating. and she can’t breathe, can’t think. every time she tries, he takes over. his bright, ocean eyes. his laugh. his voice. his smell- all gone. she won’t be able to see him again. won’t able to wake up in the morning to sound of his breathing in her ear. and there’s a lump in her throat. something coiling around her throat, squeezing it with pressure. words clock up. and she can’t breathe, can’t think. she curls her fingers inwards and digs her nails into her skin, tearing into the flesh. trying and trying to get rid of this feeling, this horrible ache that settles in the bottom of her stomach. she blinks her eyes rapidly, tries to breathe. but as her chest heaves, she gags and chokes past her raw throat. and it aches.

why did you leave me?! why did you go?!

it’s war she knows that. there was a possibility he could’ve had- but he promised. held her hand with tender, held her eyes with determination and promised. and she can’t help the hot white rage that boils in her. she wants to grab his shoulders and scream at him. but she can’t. he’s gone. how dare you leave me behind?!

she hunches forward and punches her fists into the ground. the sharp edges stones and pieces of buildings scrape her skin, but it’s not enough. there’s so much rage in her. she punches and punches and punches till she can’t anymore. till her arms are aching, till she’s dead exhausted, tired.

her usually smooth long, scarlet red hair is messy, greasy each strand tangled in knots. there are scrapes and scratches on her skin. her clothes are torn, dirty. and she’s dirty, sweaty. her eyes are burning, tears streaming her cheeks. her teeth are chattering. her pupils are shaking. she’s trembling. her barely healed blade wound stomach has re-opened. and, and she wants to give up, give in. her home is gone, reduced to nothing. evan is gone. and they’re properly losing the war as well. a war she left, leaving people to die. so why should she not? with nothing left...

then,

something warm settles on her shoulders. magic pours into her. oxygen overflows her lungs. and it feels like she can feel finally breathe. she inhales fresh air. magic, heavy and throbbing with something majestic fills her with light and—

the trembling fades away

the pain fades away

and as her pupil start to focus, she turns and sees the dragon’s forehead is resting on her shoulder. its eyes are closed, its nostrils flaring as something breaths through them, flowing into her. and she can feel getting stronger, her magic restoring back to her. and she realises with bewilderment, it’s healing her.

when it’s done, the dragon picks itself up stands tall and she notices there’s something different about its eyes. there’re drops of cerulean sparkling in pools of dark blue.

and its tail sweeps like rich honey across the ground, then curls around her like a blanket. she is lifted into the air, dropped on its back. and she doesn’t have time to think, before the dragon moves. she has to grip it tightly at the sudden movement.

she can hear the crushing sound under its feet, as the world beneath the dragon turns to dust. as she sits on top of it. as she can see everything from this height. her destroyed home. can recognise each and everyone building, each and every one area. they weren’t the largest city in the kingdom. but. it was home. each part of her home destroyed— pieces of her soul broken, buried, shattered. and, and—

before, she can’t even think further, die a little more she feels another sudden shift in the dragon. like a rush of the ocean, the ripple of waves in her bones, magic rises. before, all she can only see is fierce reds, hot oranges and bright yellows. before, the world around her blazes up in flames. and she has to grip tighter.

she is about to cry, scream. what are you doing?! there’s no need to— before,

there’re fissures splitting the earth. thunder crackling. as her heart lurches as everything around her shifts.

(sometimes a thousand lies is enough to shatter her world and tore her from within but.—)

everything around her shifts. the thunder rises to a crescendo, as her world, her home, her city, pierces of her souls is surged from death to life.

(but sometimes one truth hidden in a thousand lies can mount her world from rumbles–)

the earth ignites with life.

(sometimes one truth hidden in a thousand lies can mount her world from rumbles, raise the dead)

and she grips tighter on the scales, grips harder. her knuckles are turning ghost white. her eyes are wide. she stares into its blue orbs as the dragon turns its head to her.

a moment, another.

a whisper_ a familiar voice. and she can feel the burn on her arms. hot. warm. so familiar, that she doesn’t whether to cry, scream or laugh.

she does all of them.

cahya, evan whispers in her mind.

(and cahya soars.)

as dawn bleeds into the night sky above her

.

.

.

somewhere, amongst heartbeats, there’s raging fire. evan re-enters the world with a whisper

as the dragon vanishes into a wisp of air before her.