Shadows --

You can see them at night sometimes...I have; out of the corner of my eye where the sense of movement and light is more developed. During the day, when the light of the sun warms and spreads life to all but the darkest places, it's embarrassing that such a dream could scare me like that. Still, at night, when the feel of the day has gone it's real again and I'm certain it's no dream. 

I've always been drawn to the night -- maybe the same force that pulls the ocean towards the harbor also pulls me -- maybe it's something darker. I first noticed them three weeks ago when I was navigating through the fields that lay either side of Old 450 somewhere between two and three A.M. I saw them standing there in the fields --  there must have been six or seven just standing there. Dark pillars of men, women, and children rising out of the shadows, no -- maybe coalesce from that dark ether. I thought at first there was some play of light and composition which lent the opportunity for the dark things my mind to manifest. The more I directed my attention, however, the more real they seemed. My God they were there -- do you believe me? They were just standing there -- maybe  they were moving so slow that  I couldn't discern from my window as I drove down that road. A sense of terror pressed my foot against the accelerator.

Why I'm writing now:

There are terrors I've seen! In my own mind and out -- I feel the thrill of terror almost daily and I know I'm alive. My goal is to share some of my experiences -- to convey them in a way that makes your heart pound as mine does! I welcome terror -- a few horrible moments can provide a whole new perspective to life. Time seems to stand still, and what you miss most sometimes surprises you. A lot of the time it's the little things about life -- things you never knew you noticed until those few moments.
The stories and poems I'm writing now are inspired by a collection of Edward Hopper paintings that I've been watching. I say I've been watching them because that's what I do -- I watch paintings and let them tell me their story -- Somewhere along the way they usually share a particular spark of excitement. I hope that I grow as a story teller; I would really love to share with you what I've seen!

Skeleton Draft --

There was a time when aspirin helped. I was sometimes crippled by bursts of headaches that would only last for a few seconds, but my God, it was like a gorilla chewing your eyeballs! At first I suspected it was the smog of the big apple or maybe the constant city noise. I figured once I survived the transition period, these headaches would dissipate. Lock Haven, PA is full of clean air and quiet places -- I miss it terribly sometimes. When I first moved to Mapleton I felt like there was a subtle poison in the air; soon I adjusted, like every good New Yorker does. Before long I began to notice on my brief visits home, that I couldn’t seem to sleep without that subtle hum. The city it seems, has it’s way of becoming a part of you…
Adjusting to the big city was made a bit easier with the help of a morning coffee. Starbucks is pretty much the same no matter where you go; I was thankful for some familiarity, besides, it was easy to include a caramel macciato into my morning routine. I did my best impression of a zombie on my way to get a couple shots of caramel coated espresso in the morning, then spread my photography portfolio around the area. For weeks…maybe months the days passed in much the same way. To my parent’s surprise, I had enough work to support this daily routine. I felt a spark of happiness each time I observed my work in the city -- during those moments, I belonged here -- my roots had spread and found fertile soil.
Time began to pass without my knowing -- as time seems to do when you’ve found a routine. Then I met Erik and time stopped. An early autumn storm was rolling in, showing the world in a more dim light than I was used to at eight o’clock. There was a stillness and that contagious giddy anticipation just before the rain fell. I decided to stay and read while the front swept through -- I’m glad I did. I usually kept to myself in the café -- content in whatever world was waiting in the books I read; usually Koontz or King. Then it just happened! The man of my dreams literally slipped and fell into my lap. The floor was slick and he was terribly clumsy -- as I later found out. Erik was a smooth talker when he tried…he had to be to make up for his two left feet. There was an instant charm about him that attracted me immediately, but I let him suffer a bit through an awkward apology and introduction anyway. I asked him to join me for a while -- we ended up talking for most of the morning and into the late afternoon. Talking to him was easy…I think I fell in love with him as soon as he stumbled into my life. Now my days seemed to crawl by. I was so looking forward to my morning coffee ritual with Erik that I could hardly think of anything else.
My headaches started to increase in frequency, and they were so loud that I could hardly focus on anything else. Sometimes I would argue about nothing in particular. I love Erik dearly, and hated to argue, but my head would pound and frustration would get the better of me. As Erik and I grew closer over the months, I began to spend more time in his apartment (just one block away) than mine -- the walls held photos I had taken of us, and the bed…was our bed. You know that warmth you get when you sleep? Well I so loved to share that with him. I felt so safe in his arms…nothing could hurt me. Then it started to snow…
After a night of sharing sleep warmth with Erik, I woke up earlier than usual. It was still so dark outside and I was so cold! It was this damp cold that just soaks you through to your center. I looked out the window -- it was snowing. From my estimation over a foot of snow had fallen already. I called out for Erik, but my voice sounded far away. I ran my fingers along the line of his jaw and noticed how attractive he was. My fingers were practically on fire with lustrous intent. This got his attention, he woke with a shiver. I lead him to the window, but he didn’t seems too impressed. He just stretched his arms above his head as he arched his back. I had seen him perform this morning salutation several times while I pretended to still be sleeping. I figured this is just the sort of winter weather New York had to offer…I had no idea how wrong I was.
Time seemed to pass in a funny way again -- I honestly don’t remember leaving the apartment, or much of the day really -- just the snow. The days seemed to pass more quickly and a distance began to grow between Erik and I. I would reach out to him and he would just bow his head. His tears felt so hot against my skin. I ached to see him so upset; my every attempt at showing my affection seemed to make it worse. Some days we sat in silence. People would stare and whisper at the café -- an audience to a dying relationship. I resented them all. I would reach out and tell him how much I love him -- but my voice would make that funny far away sound. He would say he loved me…but it seemed to upset him more. I hated myself for being so easily bothered by such a silly thing as headaches -- but I hadn‘t had one lately. Maybe the damage was already done…
My God the snow never stopped -- after a couple of days I couldn’t hardly recognize the world outside my window. Leaving the apartment became a nearly impossible task. It was at this point I recognized something was terribly wrong. There must have been a geological event -- volcanic ash blotting out the sun; global cooling; a freak snow storm. SOMETHING. I was never so terrified of the cold until now…The snow fell so quiet -- but it came to be the only thing I could hear. The days were so cold and dark that I had to keep a jacket on around the house all the time. The only real warmth I got was at night when Erik would take off his clothes and generate such magnificent sleep warmth…these were the moments I felt the closest to him -- most of our days passed in cold silence.
Erik started removing the pictures of us from the wall, and packing them away. Sometimes he would stop and sob for hours…I assured him I was going to be a better girlfriend to him. I held him so close that I could feel his heart beat against my own chest. I was in this for the long run…I wished there was some way of proving that to him. Right now the most important thing was thinking of a way to survive this horrible winter. I would beg him not to leave -- but he would go out for most the day and would come back with a bottle of wine and a bundle of supplies. I hung our pictures back up while he was gone. He looked at them with what seemed like a sad horror. “What do you want from me!” he yelled. “God Damn I miss you so much!“ He must miss the way we used to be…before the headaches. I apologized in that far off voice. He threw the pictures into a large box, shattering the glass and surly breaking the frames. We went to bed that night for the last time together. I would reach out for his warmth, but he would just shutter. I wept -- I’ve never felt colder in all my life.
The next morning I was pulled out of my sleep by something I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a warmth on my face -- a slight warmth like the kind you feel from the sun on a cold day. Only there was no light -- the days had been dark for a long time now. It was such a welcome feeling, but it was fading quickly. I searched the room for it, like you do when you find that warm spot in a cold lake. I followed it to the living room where a photo album rested on the coffee table. I hadn’t noticed that before. I leafed through the pages and noticed there must have been a lot of time put into it. Every page was filled with pictures of Erik and I. I smiled at the effort he put into this, taking it as a sign that things were going to get better. I was pulled, page by page into the album. I cant really explain how or why, I just felt like if I stopped, the warmth was going to leave again -- I had been cold for so long now, this warmth was a little like that hot rush you get when you climax. Turning page by page, I paused and smiled at each frozen memory. The book was so large I was doubtful that the pictures of us could fill it completely. My suspicions were confirmed when I landed on the last page -- beyond which were only empty pages…as cold and white as the snowy disaster outside the window. I looked in disbelief at the obituary on that final page.
I resented that twinge of heat that led me here, which now filled me with a white hot pain -- heartache. An cerebral aneurysm burst in my sleep. My headaches were…Erik I’m so sorry! My heart was filled with a cold regret that started to spread through me -- freezing me once again. It occurred to me that Erik had been working on this album all along -- intending to chronicle our relationship. We would have filled the whole book with goofy faces and tender moments -- all those blank pages… I immediately went to Erik to save me. I felt so safe in his arms, surly he could make everything better. GOD DAMNIT this couldn’t be the end. I caressed his cheek with the palm of my hand and kissed his lips. He told me he missed me so much and began to weep again…I realized he’s been mourning my passing, and I’ve been breaking his heart with every touch. Never letting him forget…I hugged him with all the strength I could, but those arms didn’t reach out to hold me. I wasn’t there, and he couldn’t save me from that cold world outside. Jesus, his tears burned as they fell. I gave him a final kiss and followed that warm pull.
It became obvious to me that this blizzard was only observed by me…Maybe all spirits experience it. We start off unsure what’s happened -- we stick close to the ones we love to fix the distance, then we get… snowed in. Without a body to cover us, we’re naked to the world, nothing to protect us from the cold. Eventually we all feel that twinge of warmth pulling us. I don’t know where I’m going…just that I must keep moving. The snow here never stops, I just keep following that warmth…God it reminds me of that wonderful sleep warmth Erik and I used to share. I follow that with all my heart, like that cold swimmer following a warm spot. I pray with all my heart I see him again, and get to feel the warmth of his love as he holds me his arms. In this dark snow…that warmth is all I have. I guess he saved me after all…

Little more

There was a time when aspirin helped. At first I suspected it was the smog of the big apple or maybe the constant city noise. I figured once I survived the transition period, these headaches would dissipate. Lock Haven, PA is full of clean air and quiet places -- I miss it terribly sometimes. When I first moved to Mapleton I felt like there was a subtle poison in the air; soon I adjusted, like every good New Yorker does. Before long I began to notice on my brief visits home, that I couldn’t seem to sleep without that subtle hum. The city it seems, has it’s way of becoming a part of you…
Adjusting to the big city was made a bit easier with the help of a morning coffee. Starbucks is pretty much the same no matter where you go; I was thankful for some familiarity, besides, it was easy to include a caramel macciato into my morning routine. I did my best impression of a zombie on my way to get a couple shots of caramel coated espresso in the morning, then spread my photography portfolio around the area. For weeks…maybe months the days passed in much the same way. . To my parent’s surprise, I had enough work to support this daily routine. I felt a spark of happiness each time I observed my work in the city -- during those moments, I belonged here.
Time began to pass without my knowing -- as time seems to do when you’ve found a routine. My client base had grown -- my roots had spread and found fertile soil.

Night Windows: rough rough draft

There was a time when aspirin helped. At first I suspected it was the smog of the big apple or maybe the constant city noise. I figured once I survived the transition period, these headaches would dissipate. Lock Haven, PA is full of clean air and quiet places -- I miss it terribly sometimes. When I first moved to Mapleton I felt like there was a subtle poison in the air; soon I adjusted, like every good New Yorker does. Before long I began to notice on my brief visits home, that I couldn’t seem to sleep without that subtle hum. The city it seems, has it’s charms…like Erik.

A literary experiment

I'm not 100% sure how this will all turn out. My intention here is to draft come creative stories, poems, and the like. Constructive criticism is absolutely welcome, in fact, I encourage it. I am not a trained novelist or story teller, but I would like to grow as much as I can in that capacity.

Thank you for visiting, I hope you can bear to read my future posts!