Category: Fictional Musings

– You came over. It had been years. How could I remember the features of you which recede into the recesses of me. The way you burrow your eye brows when trying to understand what has just been said to you? The way you press your palms together when you’re not certain about the next step in a recipe, an instructional guide on how to put together a kitchen table for two, or how to build a friendship after years have devastated memory, and the idols we build to the beautiful moments of our experience have shattered and become nothing […]

– I continue shivering. The darkness persists. The moon is swallowed by dusk. The trees stretch toward the dim light thousands of miles away. The few remaining leaves tremble in this exertion. A couple lose hope and fall in the darkness toward the grave. I sit there, on the balcony. No glasses, no throw, no sweat pants, with a book. With the book, but without light. It is the first time I think about it. I wonder how she read on dark winter evenings. It was winter when she lost her enchantment. I miss that. That first year. Her enchantment. […]

– I feel the fuzz of the carpeting against my cheek, along with a kind of numbness which somehow makes the individual threads of the material more present. The light from the upstairs floods down toward me, the way water runs down shingles in a storm. The first blur I make out, upon gaining consciousness, is completely subdued by the kind of shapeless cognizance the light’s flood brings. Everything is shapeless, yet colorful. As I rise to my feet, I feel a different form of lightness. Not the kind of lightness that leaves you without breath and panicking for explanation, […]

– I shiver. There’s a breeze in the structure. An eave out of place, one of the rafters being defeated by the winter’s campaigns. I sit upstairs, waiting amidst mostly empty rows of metal folding chairs. The whisper of winter travels down the rows and around chairs. Its resolve wanes and ignites and sometimes slams against the frozen back of chairs. I sit, shivering. I wait. I am early still. Not early in the way that fowl sometimes wakes and anticipates the sun, but I am early, in a less rigid sense of the word. I shiver and I wait […]

– There’s a crunching, like the solitary sound of a gazelle making its way through a meadow at midnight, as I cross the lawn. The dead leaves of fall fill the empty dirt spaces, a battlefield of winter. I am the giant. I am like god. I look under foot and see the fractured bits of leaves in their different colors. I shiver as I reach the driveway. There are no leaves on the car or under it, as if this were a sacred space. I open the door and leave behind the battlefield, the leaves’ and my own. I […]

– “You’re too much in your head,” I hear her whisper in my ear. I can feel the warmth of her breath, as she says this. It vibrates and tickles the folicles of my ear. I smile and turn. She’s quick. The room is empty by the time I turn. Her scent lingers. The mixture of her own unique chemistry and Burberry, a scent sweeter than any ever hosted at department store beauty counters. I close my eyes then and breath it in, deeply. I can hear her giggle, distantly, like she’s in the next room. She could be anywhere. […]

-The breeze blowing against the trees, the overgrown bushes and the buildings. A frenetic waving of green. A ripple of colorful blotches, as life attempts to hold back the elements. The balcony swept by the breath of the earth in its rotation. The falling ash disintegrating before collapsing onto the concrete fixture of the balcony. Light pierces through the clouds, one solitary ray, having had the strength enough to unveil a patch of clouds. Things lost in the fire: two spiral notebooks filled with the confessions of a mind spiraling out of sense, three fine point pens-the ones responsible for […]

-A momentary peace, not your own, as if the world depended on that warmth, on the warmth which turns cold in an instant, when your own is no longer enough. And broken I remain there, my arms around her, her beating heart. My senses fed by her essence, her scent. And I am lost. Lost in her, lost with her, though she does not care about me or the state I find myself in, as long as she feels her being lost is not loss because there is someone there. I try to break free, but my arms do not […]

-I sink in. Into her warmth. I want to melt into her, melt with her; even as she pushes away. There’s a distance and it grows and reverts to its meager state at gestation, the obstacle that eclipses the heart. It has its own phases, like the moon. A cycle of waxing and waning. When she pushes away, there is nothing left, but to let your eyes glisten and wait expectantly, as the werewolf-kin does the lighting of the full moon, the apogee, the swelling of a heart. That swelling which releases the warmth. That warmth which emanates from deep […]