Flyn Graham

All the gull could do was strut and squawk and preen its feathers. They were fine feathers. Light but strong. Their black tips fading to the soft grey of an autumn morning to the flecked white of quartz pebbles tossed and tumbled onto the beach by the restless sea.

It understood the human child’s words, but the sounds it made in reply might just as well have been the clicks and whistles of wild porpoises, or the bark of sea-lions. Still, the high ledge was a safe place to rest its tired wings, and the boy would often feed it through the open window.

There was a sadness about the boy. A Shadow. The gull both sensed it and saw it. If the gull could speak it would have asked the boy what the deep dark midnight of the Shadow was. But its sharp beak was made for spearing fish, not forming words. Words were a kind of magic only humans had learned.

So instead it flew away. Far out across the ocean. As far from the salt-spray mist of the coast it knew so well as it dared to go. Away from the foaming waves that broke themselves endlessly on the ragged shore.

Away from the boy who fought so bravely against the Shadow. As far as any gull had ever flown. Only the albatross had flown further.

It would find a whale thought the gull. Theirs was the wisdom of centuries.

“Mother Whale,” cried the gull. “Knowest thou the secret humans call speech?”

“I do not,” replied the whale. “What care we for humans? They are cruel and careless. But wouldst thou listen to our song?”

“Your songs are beautiful,” said the gull, “but too sad for a heart weighed heavy with such sorrow as mine.”

“Then I cannot help thee. Thou seekest one wiser than I.”

“But who?” asked the gull. “Where?”

“The way is not in the sky,” the whale said. “The way is in the heart.”

And with that, the whale disappeared beneath the surface.

‘Should I follow?’ the gull wondered. It could never dive as deep as the whale. High the gull soared on beating wings. Higher than the clouds. Higher than any gull had ever soared. Only the osprey had soared higher.

“Why so high?” asked a voice, as soft and sweet as the perfume of lotus blossom. “What is it you seek? My blessing? You have it. Knowledge? First know thyself."

My Lord,” said the gull, bowing its head as it swooped through the air. “There is a boy. I wouldst speak his name and call him friend for fond have I grown of his fellowship. But troubled is his soul and lost his spirit wanders. And I do not have the words to ease his pain.”

“Ah, yes,” said the enlightened one. “There are many lost souls. To live is to suffer. The love of heaven shall be their salvation. What we think, we become. All that we are arises from our thoughts. With our thoughts we make the world.”

“But the boy. The Shadow!”

“The boy is dying. That is what you see. He cares not for himself. So deep and selfless is his love for another that his own life is nothing more than the flickering of a candle to him. And yet, that one small flame can light a thousand candles.”

“And words?” asked the gull.

“Love needs no words. Peace comes from within, Brother. Do not seek it without. The boy knows this. Go now. Do not dwell in the past, nor dream of the future, but concentrate the mind only on the present. Simply ‘be’. It is enough.”

“Yes, I - I think I understand.”

“To understand everything,” said the voice, “is to forgive everything. Even the Shadow.”

‘What we think, we become. With our thoughts we make the world.’

The gull wondered if this was really so. And if it was, then, why could it not make its own world? It wasn’t enough to simply ‘be’. It needed to ‘become’.

The gull was tired and hungry when it finally made it back to the high cliffs it called home. It flew over the boy’s house to see if the Shadow was still there. The window was open and the gull could see its young friend lying on his bed, sleeping.

A smaller version of the boy was leaning with his elbows on the window-sill, resting his chin on his hands, waiting. There were some dried crusts of bread scattered on the ledge. But too much bread is not good for gulls. So instead it circled the boy’s house twice more before flying away.

It perched on the highest rock at the very top of the cliffs and there it sat. Thinking. Wishing. It could never have created a whole new world, but perhaps, just perhaps, it could change the world it lived in. If only a little.

For six days and six nights the gull sat and thought. Cold winds blew in off the sea and rain dampened its feathers. It saw the sun and moon rise and set, only to return again in their endless cycle. Still, the gull sat. Never leaving its rock. Until, at dawn on the seventh day, it opened its beak and said... “Friend.”

So excited was the gull to have unlocked the secret of words, it flew fast and straight for the boy’s house. Faster than it had ever flown. Only the swallow could fly faster. But the window was closed. The room empty. Both the boy and the Shadow had gone. The gull settled on the high ledge and, tucking its head under one folded wing, cried salty tears. Its small heart broken. ‘Had it all been for nothing?’ it thought.

The gull was still pondering this when the window was thrown open. So startled was the gull that it fell off the ledge with a frightened squawk.

“Stanley!” Called a child’s voice. “Come back!”

The gull circled and wheeled and perched on the window-sill nervously. This was not the boy, but the same smaller version of its friend it had seen before. Ruffling its feathers, it peered at the child curiously. “Friend?” it asked.

The child’s eyes opened wide with surprise and wonder. “You can talk?”

“Talk,” the gull nodded. “Words.”

“I know my brother calls you Stanley,” said the child, “but are you a boy or a girl? I’m a boy.”

“Boy,” said the gull, looking past the child, into the empty bedroom. Where?”

“You mean my brother? He’s here.”

The boy had walked into the room just in time to hear the gull speak. He stopped and stared. The gull had found its voice. Its words. The boy had lost his. He stood at the window, looking as if he’d put them down somewhere and couldn’t quite remember where he left them.

The Shadow was still there, but it had faded from violent purple to a less threatening twilight-blue. Beneath the blue, the gull could see the pure white of faith, and under that the shining gold of hope, but brighter than them all was the red of love; that grew stronger with every beat of the boy’s heart.

The boy shook his head in disbelief. He threw back his head and laughed, and the sound of his laughter was as high and bright as the sun. “I don’t believe it!”

“Believe,” said the gull. “Be and become.”

“Be? Be what?”

“Only be,” said the gull. “It is enough.”

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night (Bay City Rollers) down on main street (Bob Seger) I saw her standing there (The Beatles). "Come with me (Phil Phillips and the Twilights). I ain't looking for nothing but a good time (Poison)" I said.

"Do you wanna touch me? (Joan Jett and the Blackhearts)?" she asked.

"I want you to want me (Cheap Trick)" I replied.

"Lets go crazy! (Prince)" she said "Take my hand (Elvis)"

"Take me home tonight (Eddie Money)" and let's spend the night together (The Rolling Stones) " I answered.

Baby you can drive my car (Beatles) get out of my dreams and get in to my car (Billy Ocean)." It was a little GTO (Ronny and the Daytones).

"I can't wait (Stevie Nicks)" I cried.

So it was paradise by the dashboard light (Meatloaf). The girl's got rhythm (AC/DC) and she was a squealer (AC/DC). We did the tube steak boogie (ZZ Top) all night long (Joe Walsh). "I'm gonna make you love me (Diana Ross) This is one night stand I never wanted to end (Duran Duran)" she sighed.

"Take it easy (The Eagles)." I said, and I ran (Flock of Seagulls). I was like a bat out of Hell (Meatloaf)

Wake up time (Tom Petty) it was just another manic Monday (Bangles) and I had a fire down below (Bob Seger). "Somebody get me a doctor (Van Halen)!" I wailed.

"I'm burning for you (Blue Oyster Cult) you man eater (Hall and Oates)," remembering the backseat Serenade (All Time Low) I was on the highway to hell (AC/DC). At the hospital (Counting Crows), Dr. Brown (Fleetwood Mac) said "You need sexual healing "Marvin Gaye) because you have the Jack (AC/DC).

"Love hurts (Nazareth)" I groaned

Nurse Rozetta (Alice Cooper) smiled and said, "Yes but sometimes it hurts so good (John Mellencamp).

Writer's note. I think I followed the rules of the challenge. Seems like a word here and there outside of the song title was needed to tie everything together.

The Jack: Slang term from the 1970s in the UK and Australia for gonorrhea. Bon Scott of AC/DC made the term infamous in the song, "The Jack." There are 2 versions of the song one uses a metaphor of poker game with a femme fetal that was radio friendly. The second version still played at concerts today gets right down to business and there is no need to decode a metaphor.

Glad I am that I found this place,

A shelter from the everyday storm

Let me first, before showing my face,

Introduce myself - this is the norm.

New to this motley crowd I am,

Although I write since the 80s.

Books I have written on paper with pen.

Amazon published some of them lately.

Royalties zero I have received,

As nobody wanted to buy.

So, after a few hours of grief

Humbly decided to give it a try.

Kindle behind, I aimed for the contests

And here I am now - joining the latest.

For anyone protesting about the obligatory wearing of masks as a loss of freedom. For those who don’t like being told what to do.

What is your opinion on passports?

Before your last holiday, did you go online to complain or gather in front of government buildings to protest about having to possess a passport for travel?

Now there’s an impingement on your freedom.

If you want to travel, you MUST get a passport. You MUST show it at a border. You are obliged to pay for it, yet it can be taken off you. It gives officials access to your personal information. If they don’t like you or your details, they have the right to detain you. If you do not own a passport, you have no global freedom of movement. Personally, I think that is a huge human rights issue! I’d wager that some people complaining about masks quite like passports because it keeps out people that they consider undesirable.

It’s nice when human rights violations work in your favor.

For those who think they are free thinkers, truth seekers and too smart to be a sheep. From the moment we do what a parent asks us, we are obedient. The day you answer to your name, you are obedient. The day you identify with a nationality, gender, age etc, you are obiedient. The fact a western male doesn’t wear a dress, is obedience. Obiedience keeps you from dancing and singing on the street, or in a shop. Adhering to Covid restrictions doesn’t change anything, you have always been obiedient. The only difference is that YOU feel affected by current restriction. It doesn’t suit you. Yet people outside of Europe and the US (including indigenous Austrailians and New Zealanders, and US, Canadian tribes) have been struggling with freedom restrictions and forced obiedience for centuries. Did you care? Do you care?

Do you care that some people can’t afford a passport? Do you care that in Austrailia, for example, asylum seekers can be detained for years in a prison-like setting? Do you care that there are people imprisoned for years simply because they used cannabis?

If you are concerned about your freedom of movement and thought. Disconnect your phone from the internet. Don’t allow yourself to be traceable 24/7. Don’t buy a new iPhone because everyone does. Get off social media and go talk to a tree. You’ll get more truth there.

Once a love so deep

The pain as it fades away

It’s unbearable

I have tried so hard

But got nowhere

I show you love is still there

You still don’t come back

My darkness gets darker

As your light gets brighter

I try to make you understand

Love is still there

Still you don’t come back

I begged and I cried

You still left

And my heart has been broken ever since

Mindless distraction

phone

tv

tablet

fill our day

while emptying it

aeons of void

release from the world

freedom from thought

gone.

A child

Bright lights

Crying

Different places

Eating hard foods

Figuring out words

Getting left behind

Helping another child

Interests are necessary

Jumping off playground not allowed

Kindergarten done

Learning more every day

New friends

Opening presents

Preparing for aging

Quaint living

Remember your youth

Staying in the hospital

Tired always

Under harsh lights

Voiceless

Wishing for release

Xylose down a tube

Yelling for life

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