How Did You Know?

"I don't think I can concentrate a moment longer," I growled, pushing myself away from the table and standing up. I wished I could go for a run, but being blind made that an impossibility now. Restlessly I paced back and forth, trying to clear my thoughts. I could almost feel Dianna's eyes following my movements.

Maybe a short walk will help I told myself and I reached for my jacket. the fall weather was getting cooler by the day, and I could literally hear the leaves being shed by the massive trees around my house and around the campus. If I concentrated enough I could hear them drifting through the air and settle with a faint scrape on the sidewalk.

Dianna matched my pace as we headed towards the center of the town. I could smell wood smoke from a few houses. gradually a new, yet familiar scent mixed with the smell of burning wood.

"Hi Chris," I said and turned my head slightly and pausing in my walk.

"How did you know I was here?" Chris asked clearly puzzled.

"I could smell your cologne." I smirked at his silence.

"Is it to much?" he asked, and he brushed my arm just above the elbow to let me know where he was.

"Actually it smells very nice. Sandalwood?" I asked.

Chris laughed, "Yeah."

I grinned in his direction, "But it's not just Sandalwood," I went on, "several men wear sandalwood. There is something else there that makes your scent you." I paused to consider what it was. I could feel my brow furrowing in thought. I couldn't quite grasp it.

Blushing, I turned towards Chris, "would you mind terribly if I gave you a hug?"

The surprised silence lasted a moment or two before I felt myself drawn forward into a gentle embrace. I tucked my head into the curve of his neck and my arms went around his chest.

Inhaling deeply, the most prominent scent was that of sandalwood, just as I knew it would be. I could also smell leather, that had to be his jacket, and something spicy like an echo of cinnamon. I could also smell lavender, but only a suggestion of it, as if his clothes were washed in it, and the faintest trace of sweat as if he had worked out earlier in the day.

I took in his scent one more time before loosening my embrace and stepping back. I could feel my face heating up. I knew he was staring at me expectantly.

"Well?" he asked. I could hear a grin in his voice.

I blushed again. "Sandalwood, leather, cinnamon, lavender, and," I hesitated.

"And," he prompted. I felt his fingers brush a lock of hair out of my face.

"And a little bit of sweat," I mumbled quickly.

"I'm sorry," Chris laughed out loud, "I missed that."

"Nothing," I muttered and clicked my tongue at Dianna, signaling her that I was ready to walk. I could feel my face practically glowing with embarrassment. I can't believe I did that I thought to myself.

"Wait," Chris called and I could hear him hurrying to catch up to me. "Wait, Sarah. Don't go." I felt a slight pressure on my arm again, letting me know he was right there.

"I'm sorry Chris," I said and I slowed my pace.

"For what?" Chris asked.

Actually I wasn't sure what I was sorry about, only that I was embarrassed.

"Look," Chris said, and gently pulled me to a stop, "if I promise not to laugh will you tell me what else you could smell? I'm rather curious."

I bit my lip, debating on weather it would offend him or not. Finally I felt myself sigh in resignation, "I could smell sweat," I said. "But only a faint trace, as if you had worked out earlier today or yesterday," I added quickly.

"Hm," Chris hummed thoughtfully, "you know you are right," he said. "I worked out late last night."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," I said, trying to get him to understand, "I like the way you smell."

"And I like the way you smell too," Chris said, and I could hear him grinning again.

I smiled in his direction and clicked to Dianna and the three of us moved on.

Hearing

I would hear as you hear,
See it through your eyes.
I would feel as you do
And win myself the prize.

I cannot hear as you do
You hear me not at all.
I would beckon to your heart
If you would but heed my call.

Fain, I would lose the sounds
That come by night and day.
And never more hear bird or song
If with you I could stay.

Hidden Love by Sara Teasdale

I hid the love within my heart,
And lit the laughter in my eyes,
That when we meet he may not know
My love that never dies.

But sometimes when he dreams at night
Of fragrant forests green and dim,
It may be that my love crept out
And brought the dream to him.

And sometimes when his heart is sick
And suddenly grows well again,
It may be that my love was there
To free his life of pain.

Dance

We dance across the moonlit floor;
Our arms, hands, and bodies one.
I follow in the path you trace,
You show me how it's done.

I smile at every misplaced step.
Patiently you lead me round.
Though I can feel the earth below,
My steps have left the ground.

Elixir

When I ponder on the days I had
I know not what to think.
Your love was an elixir
That I would deeply drink.

Oh, I knew not what that potion was.
Truth, or lust, or lies?
All I know is from that cup
My heart grew sad but wise.

Bloom

I loved you then, when year was young,
And all was green and new.

I loved you still, as days were long,
And nights were brief and few.

I continued to love you in the chill
Of winters darkest gloom.

But when the spring had come again;
My love, it did not bloom.

Where are you now?

I could feel the sunshine's warmth
From your golden smile
I could breathe the clearest air
I Could walk with you for miles

Where are you now?

Your tender arms surround me
Kept me safe all through the night
And when the dawn awoke me
You were always in my sight

Where are you now?

Your kisses breathed life into my soul,
Taught me how to live.
Everything I had was yours
All that I could give.

Where are you now?

Eagerly

Eagerly I sought your eyes
To tell me of your soul
I had a wish that you might see
My heart that you had stole.

Eagerly I met your gaze
but saw no spark within.
The coolness of your look was pain,
Though your touch burned upon my skin.

I closed my eyes to shield my heart
From glancing I refrain
I put it all to a restful death;
I dare not look again.

Wishes

Wishes are a way to think
Of things that could not be
They bring a smile to your lips
And set your dreaming free.

Wishes are a lot of fun
Although they don't come true.
The sparkle in the morning sun
And fade like morning dew

Birds

Time is forgotten,
when roses bloom in spring.
Tiny birds return again
and teach my heart to sing.

A simple tune of life's new growth
thaws my frozen heart
Help me to forget him birds
and give my life a start.

I don't remember

I don't remember anymore
How once your eyes met mine
I don't remember how it felt
Your fingers with mine entwined

I don't remember exactly how
Your touch burned upon my skin
I cant even recall now
Where it all begins

I have forgotten most words
That you had said to me
All I do remember
Is when I set you free

Shells of Autumn

Drifting autumn leaves are now
Shells of what was young
Summer dies along times way
Winter still unsung

Barren limbs reach for the sky
Silent cold and gray
Twitching in the winter winds
Gone are days of may

Wind replaces song birds call
Whistling sharp and shrill
Keening to the moonless night
Echo winters chill

Did Not, Would Not

I did not heed you when you called
I did not stop to know
All the words you could say to me
As the winds of winter blow

I would not stop touch your hand,
I said my last goodbyes
I could not let you see my tears
I will not let you see me die.

Tears, Idle Tears

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

By Lord Alfred Tennyson

Ode

Ode
by Arthur O’Shaughnessy [1844-1881]

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world’s great cities.
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion art empire’s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song’s measure
Can trample in empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth.
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o’erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world’s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

Eternal Call

It's been forever since I've seen you;
An eternity it seems.
Though it has only been a few short years
In the scheme of things.

I cannot recall you clearly,
No matter how I try.
I always feel you watching me,
Guarding me, as my days fly by.

The years have passed I've seen a lot,
I yearn to tell you all.
I have waited oh so patiently,
For your gently call.

It seems I can go no further
Though I try with all my might.
You seem to be just ahead of me.
Somewhere just out of sight.

I'm weary and I stumble,
I feel about to fall.
When I hear you calling to me,
That last eternal call.

Nursery Crhyme

(Humble thanks for the obvious inspiration of my childhood hero Dr. Seuss)

All the Yous down in Youville like spending a lot
And with no care for the future they bought and they bought
They bought You-screens and surround-sounds and big fancy homes
And You-pods and gas-guzzlers and cellular phones

They bought all they could and then bought some more
With the credit cards they got from the Mega-You store
Till they borrowed all the money that they possibly could
And purchased every conceivable You consumable good

Suddenly when there were no Yous left to spend
The sellers became afraid that You shopping would end
And the government and banks both surely knew
Without shopping and buying there’d be nothing to do

So they thought up a plan and they though it up quick
They guessed lending more money would sure do the trick
So they took lots of money and made oversized loans
To put under-financed Yous in overpriced homes

Though the U-financed You’s knew they could not re-pay
The bankers just told them to refinance some day
So they sold them You homes with all the whistles and bells
And promised their homes would simply pay for themselves

Now every You knows that new homes need new stuff
But very few Yous know when enough is enough
So the new financed You’s just kept on spending and spending
And everyone pretended it would go on without ending

And no one thought to save for the rainy days ahead
They just kept on spending and spending instead
Till spending ended one day and the economy began stalling
And chicken-little You proclaimed the sky is now falling

So they all ran right up to the head You Number One
Who said I know what to do to continue You fun
We’ll borrow some billions from right over there
And pass it around and spend it right here

But the Yous were all fed up with You Number One
So they elected You Two to get the job done
Now You Number Two knew just what to do (he said)
We’ll borrow more billions more billions times two

So the Yous borrowed and borrowed from some magical place
While You bankers and brokers slipped away in disgrace
How this all happened they could not understand
As they all cried boo-hoo on their fat pension plans

Now I’m not one to say how this story will end
But it’s obvious the Yous must now borrow to spend
So the Yous will all spend for that is there lot
They’ll spend and they’ll spend whether they earn it or not

And they’ll go on pretending that loans don’t come due
And assume they’ll be paid eventually by much younger Yous
Now I love to borrow money and I love spending too
But I’m not sure if it’s right to borrow it from little Yous

Especially when they are no more than two

Do You
Poem By: Gift Of Noni

I Don't Remember...

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."
Copyright by Ash L. Bennett, 2011

Location, Location, Location

I could have kissed you
under cherry blossoms,
pale petals drifting down
like the trees wanted to
pretend they could be
snowclouds.

I could have kissed you
in the rain, drenched to
our bones and not even
caring that the skies
opened up above us
and tried to wash us out.

I could have kissed you
in a clearing in the most
secluded woods, with
just the sound of wind
rustling through the leaves
and a few voyeuristic
finches peeping at us.

Instead, I kissed you
in the parking lot of a
Waffle House, just shy
of 2 a.m. in the middle
of a hectic week, with
our waitress grinning
at us from the other
side of the window,
because, honestly,
how could I not?

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published May 11, 2011

First Flash

My head had started to hurt again, "Now where would I keep the aspirin," I wondered out loud to myself as I rubbed at my temples ineffectually with my fingers. "For that matter, do I often talk to myself out loud?"

I stood up from where I had been sitting on a comfortable armchair and walked softly down the short hallway. Several rooms branched off and I glanced in them as I walked past. A Study with beautiful bookcases and a large desk. I wold investigate that later I decided. I also passed what looked like a guest room, and then a small bathroom. The last door in the hall turned out to be the master bedroom. It was a neat room, as was the rest of the house. The large bed was covered in a blue comforter and looked soft enough, there was another bookcase, but it appeared to be filled with nic-nacs. I stepped closer to the bookcase and examined a few of the objects, handling each with care before replacing them exactly as I had found them.

Stepping through a door into the bathroom I opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. "I guess it was where I would keep it," I muttered to myself. I filled a glass with water from the sink and washed down the pills.

Hoping that the pills would soon take effect I sat on the edge of the bed and took a closer look around the room. There were a few pictures hung on the walls, and one on the nightstand beside the bed. I picked up the framed photo and examined it closely. It was me. And there was another man that looked very similar. Not old, so it couldn't be my father, but a brother. What's his name I wondered.

I carefully removed the picture from the frame and flipped it over.

To Shane,
The best big brother a guy could ever have asked for.
Love, Adam

"Adam Briarwood. I have a younger brother," I said and smiled despite the fact that I didn't recognize him. I stared hard at the picture and then closed my eyes, willing my mind to see Adam in another setting, something that might trigger a memory.

My mind flashed upon a brief scene, almost painful in it's brightness. I could see Adam walking up a small hill and laughing, he turned to me, opening his mouth to say something when the scene was gone again.

My head was pounding worse than before, but I closed my eyes again, willing the image to return. I don't know how long I stared at the black of the inside of my eyelids, but I was startled when the doorbell rang.

I quickly replaced the picture in the frame and put it back on the night table before swiftly yet silently moving down the hall and to the front door. The bell rang again just as I got there.

I looked through the peep hole and I could see a pretty woman standing on the other side of the door. She had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that almost seemed ringed in white. She reached out and knocked on the solid wood, "Shane," she called out.

I stepped back from the door and flipped open the lock before pulling the door open.

"Oh Shane!" She woman cried and stepped into the entryway, "I can hardly believe what's happened."

I stepped back from her almost reflexively, putting a little more distance between us. She frowned at this, but didn't say anything about it. However, she did fire questions at me quicker than I could have possibly answered them.

"Wait, wait," I finally said, holding up my hand to stop her talking. "What's your name?" I asked.

She blinked at me in shock, "Shane," she breathed, "when you said that you had amnesia, I didn't think that you meant you had lost everything." Tears had gathered in her eyes.

"Never the less," I said, trying to ignore the guilty feeling for causing her tears, "I don't remember. I don't remember anything. Not me, not you, not this house or anything else. I have messages and messages, all from people who's voices I don't recognize. I have mail and bills from places that I don't remember buying from. I don't know what my favorite color is. I don't know if I'm married, what my job is, or if I like dogs." I was frustrated, and truth be told, a little scared. I took a deep breath after I finished my little rant.

The woman looked at me. "My name is Anna," she said calmly "your favorite color is blue, you're not married, but you were engaged once a long time ago. You work for the government and you like dogs well enough, but you love horses."

"Then Anna, you are?" I asked, leaving it hanging.

"Your sister," she said. "Our brother's name is Adam, who is a few years younger than you, and I am the youngest. Our parents live in Colorado."

I sighed, partially in relief, but also in frustration. There was no way to confirm that anything that she had said was true. It was true that my brother was Adam, but what of the rest of it? Did I really work for the government? And if I did, what part?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to will the world to make sense again.

"If it will help," Anna said and touched my sleeve," you always kept a journal. Ever since we were young. If we can find that it might help you remember things."

I nodded, feeling a large weight lifting from my chest. "Where might I have kept it?" I asked.

Seeing

You don't see me.

You see what you want to see.

I can't see it like you.


I see me......




all of me.



I see what others don't

Nighttime

Shifting shadows in the wind,
Twist and slide. Moving and not.
Moonlight pooling on blades of grass,
Glowing tides on shifting seas of green,
All among the dark.
Dancing like waves upon the bay,
Bordered by the trees.
Crashing surf against the rocky edge,
And moisture on the breeze.
Every rustling leaf, every creak of every branch,
Every single silent sound,
Adds to natures harmonic melody.
Strains of that music drift upon the midnight gusts,
Whispering softly, luring me deeper into the night.
And as I gaze up at endless stars,
The nighttime lullaby beckons me to peaceful sleep,
Wrapped in that gentle calming dark.
And in that sleep I drift to the moon
And out beyond the stars.
And I carry with me my nighttime,
The music, and the shadows of the night.

(written with Adam Floyd Edwards)

Dear World - By Adam Floyd Edwards

Dear World,

You don't know my blackest day, and you don't know the terror of my nights.

Don't pass your judgments and dole your advice. Cease your drowning, mocking calls, and your stony piercing silent stares.

Why the countless voices, the stabbing, creeping words? Why the darkness, cold and numbing? Why this endless screaming void? Why these rampant powers, ever changing?

All these seas of gleaming faces, why then, all these empty spaces? With so many near, why am I yet still alone?

Be silent World, with your constant nagging, I don't want to listen anymore.


-Me

Dear World

Dear world,

Don't you dare judge me.
You haven't walked in my shoes, seen through my eyes, or felt with my heart.

Don't stand there and tell me that I'm not pretty enough, smart enough or brave enough.

Don't stand there and tell me that my opinion doesn't count.Don't tell me that I don't know what it is to hurt, or to love, or what loss is. Don't look at me and value me as nothing because I don't fit the mold.

Don't hate me because I choose my own path or think that I'm a sheep because I believe in a god that loves me and a brother who died to redeem my soul.

Don't say that I don't know what I want, of that I don't understand or that I'm not listening simply because I don't agree with you.

And when I come home dirty at the end of the day, it's because I have worked hard to provide for my family

And when all I want to do is sing at the top of my lungs, it's because I want to forget about my problems for awhile.

And when I dance down the hall, it's because I enjoy it and I don't care what you think.

And sometimes when I cry at night in my bed, it's because I just need to let it all out or I might explode.

And sometimes when I give you a hug, it's because I have nothing more that I am capable of giving. And when I smile at you, it's because I want you to smile too.

Don't judge me world because I am who I am.

Sincerely,
Me

Shane Revisited.

A small neat house stood before me on a quite street where the cab driver had deposited me a few moments ago. There were a few bushes along the path that bordered a small lawn and lead to the front door.

The small set of keys felt oddly heavy as I walked the short distance to the front door. I took a deep breath and slid one of the small brass keys into the lock, though I hesitated to turn it. This was the address that was on the licence that they had given me, and looking into the mirror of the tiny hospital bathroom, I could at least tell that it was my own face that was smiling out of the ID card. They had kept me in the hospital a few more days after I had woken up; partly to make sure that I was alright and partly to see if I would regain my memories. Finally though they had released me.

A small click sounded as the key turned smoothly in the lock and I pushed the door open. The interior was dim in the late afternoon light, dust motes stirring in the air as I passed by a window.

The inside of the house was as neat as the outside had suggested, nothing seemed to be out of place. I laughed as this thought crossed my mind. How would I know if anything was out of place, I didn't recognize anything at all. I could have been in anyone's home.

A flashing red light on the phone caught my attention.

Beep... A man's voice came from the recorder, "hey Shane, it's me. You up for a pick-up game tonight? Give me a call."

Beep... A sultry woman's voice came next, "Shane, don't forget that you promised to go to that party with me."

Beep... "Shane. Man, where are you?"

Beep... "Shane, I'm getting worried, and so is Mom."

Beep... "Shane, did you forget to tell us you were going out of town or something?"

Beep... "Mr. Briarwood. This is a reminder..."

Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood."

My hand hit the delete button, stilling the flood of voices. I could feel a headache coming on. I walked down the hall to the kitchen and opened the fridge, realizing that my stomach was growling. It felt awkward though, as if I was reaching into someone else's fridge without permission, without them even knowing that I was here.
I shook my head and pulled out a few things. It would take a while before it felt normal to be here.

I was just cleaning up when the phone rang, causing me to jump. I only hesitated a moment before picking it up. It could be someone that I knew, someone that could help me remember. Someone that could tell me who I was.

"Hello?" I said.

"Shane!" came the relieved voice over the phone, a woman's voice, "I've been so worried about you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"

I didn't recognize the voice. "I'm not sure if I'm alright," I said.

"What do you mean you don't know if you are alright?" she asked.

I sighed and quickly explained what had happened. "So you see," I concluded, "I don't even recognize your voice. I don't know who you are."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I asked.

"Shane," she breathed in shock, "I'm coming right over," she said, "don't go anywhere. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Alright," I said and hung up the phone.

"Hopefully in half an hour I'll start to have some questions answered," I said to myself.

Lullaby

Close your eyes, and flow away.
Wake not again, till the break of day.
Live and be free, my plea for thee.
Stay safe till darkness ends.

Dream safely child, dream, of peace.
Dream of happiness, dream the sweet dreams.
Dream as I hold you, closely each night.
Dreams guard your sleep, till the dawns early light.

Sleep now my child, deep as the night.
Sleep with my love for you, always in sight.
Sleep with the moons light, sleep with the stars.
Sleep with my love child, where ever you are.

Daisy

He loved me, more than time could tell.
He loved me not, when darkness fell.
He loved me, when the spring was new.
He loved me not, when the winds of winter blew.
He loved me, when we touched the sky.
He loved me less, as time flew by.
He loved me, as the morning dew.
He loved me not, as I faded from view.

Stolen

I'll draw a little picture
A picture dark and deep.
I'll draw it with the moonless night
Hiding what you seek.
And from this little picture
I'll cover all the night.
And with this simple picture,
I've stolen all the light.

Time

If I could make our time stand still,
I'd do it just for you.
If I could bring you back to me,
Each day would be fresh and new.
If I could heal all your pain
With just one touch, one kiss.
Not a single word you spoke
Ever would I miss.

If I only knew it was our last hour together,
What would I give to stop the clock.
How much love would it take to
Keep you here with me?

If I only knew it would take
More than I could give
To halt the sands of time.
No matter how I wish
No matter how I pray.
I know you can
No longer stay.

Original Picture

I'll draw a little picture,
A picture with a twist.
I'll draw it with a razor
A picture on my wrist.
And from this little picture
A fountain will appear.
And from this open fountain
My pain will disappear.

(By Nagi)

Nothing - Picture

I'll draw a little picture
Of things that cannot be.
I'll draw it with my life's blood
Singing, cool and sweet.
And from this staff of music
I'll chose the melody.
OF the dance of all that is
And things that could never be.

Time and Dreams

Time
Has no
Meaning to
Any who Dare to
Dream.

Dreams
Are the
Gateway to
Immortal worlds
Unseen.

Unseen
They float
In the wake
Of the dreamers
Dream.

Elven Prince

Seek along the riverside a pathway through the woods.
And come along to wondrous Silverglen,
In the sunlight, where it stood.
See you there fair Elven lives
Of peace and trust and good.
There you'll find them all once more,
On the pathway through the woods.

See you there fair Elven Prince;
Kind and just and true.
He flies through the woods like wind through the trees,
For causes no one knew.
He flits silently through fields of sun
And shadows dark and deep.
He seeks to find fair river maid,
Where mighty waters sleep.

Fair river maid waits for her king
Aby the riverside.
All clothed in silvery white she is
And along the waters glide.
She looks about with mournful eyes,
A vigil through the night.
The one she loves, she cannot have.
Fair Elven Prince of light.

Fair Elven Prince of Silverglen
Fair River Maiden of the stream,
Seeks to find a place to be,
If only in a dream.
A mournful song will be sung,
An echo through the woods.
of poor Silverglen and Stream,
In the sunlight, where they stood.

Those who seek the pathway
Along the riverside,
Will hear a haunting melody
From the river tide.
Of fair Elven Prince
And lovely Lady of the Stream,
Carried aloft upon the wind,
Through the sunlit trees.

Greatness

I walked along with greatness,
Side by side we two.
I asked him once to tell me
Of something he knew true.

He told me of the times he knew
And lessons he had learned.
But still within my questing mind
The queries ever burned.

He gazed into the heavens
and back at me once more.
He said he could not tell me
Of what life had in store.
He whispered softly into my ear
Within his eye, I saw a tear.

Into your soul you must peer.
Know yourself and face your fear.
I cannot tell you of what's to be.
Just take my hand and follow me.

Sightless

I sense the passage of time,
The warmth slowly fading from the room,
Replaced with dusks coolness.
I put my raised dots down and move across the room.
My sister has come and gone,
And I stub my toe on the chair she moved.
Dream lingers in the air, like the faint scent of love.
I close my eyes on the darkness,
And the voices echo in my mind.
I fade into sleep in my endless darkness,
And awake to the saltiness of tears in the night.
From eyes that have never seen.

Exhaustion

Exhaustion is the greyness clouding my mind.
Voices falling muted on my ears,
and a dryness like cotton invades my mouth.
I see my mother smiling down at me,
And she softly caresses my head.
the scent of a warm blanket fills my mind,
As she gently rocks me back and forth.
Tears seep from heavy eyelids,
And I'm a little girl again.

Anger

Anger is the blackness, invading my soul.
The litany of a thousand voices pounding in my ears.
The bitterness of the tears overwhelm me,
And the stench of a hundred years of hatred vies
With the visage of the one I loath.
Trapped within my own mind,
By the feelings of despair.

Memories

We are on the edge of freedom, turn,
The sun, steam rising from the frostbitten night time.
Blue eyes, chips of ice focus on the dance floor.
Anger and wounded pride.
He runs, trying to free the broken spirit.
Teeth grit, a twitch in ridged cheeks.
Doomed to the armagedon of despair.
Searching for respite from the satanic fury.
Memories of eyes, lips painted red. Baseball,
Forever picnics of kool-aid, fresh apple pie and hamburgers.
Cascading waterfalls in the distance
Laugh like little girls.
Small drops, drilling into soft earth.
Eternal impressions on the world.

Crush of the World

Weight. Pressing down.
Awake, dress, trying to hide in the lee.
Soft words spoken, hide harsh meanings.
They yell, they order. I stumble and fall.
Time is the enemy, and nothing my friend.
Rush. Rush. Win the race.
Never finished, feeling older.
The crush of the world on my back.

Friendship

Friendship, comfort, sitting side by side.
A look, a glance. Worth a thousand,
And none needed.
Tick of a clock, countless hours pass.
Gentle murmur of voices.
Parting ways with soft goodbyes.
Memories of days gone by.

Pen

Pen, expresser of my soul, bleeding thought
Black on white. Words twist, forming images.
A single rose in a vase is pure snow.
Hot chocolate by the fire, mesmerized by
Dancing flames.
Images emerge in the half-light.
Warriors in battle,
A black and white movie,
Viewed in the dark.

Flames

Flame. Beautiful, flickering in the night.
the core is blue eyes, a mile deep lake.
White brilliance.
Fire on snow.
Blue changes violet, ageless.
A boy shunned.

Rude Awakening

Images flit across the dark screen.
A flash of a smile,
A glimpse of piercing eyes.
A Christmas,
A thousand ornaments on a tree.
Cinnamon wafting through the air.
Gentle music and children playing in the night.
Christmas fades into a
Blue sky.
Sails billowing like clouds,
A ship.
Gently rocking on the Aegean Sea.
to be replaced with desks and walls,
The teacher loudly calling my name.

Pen - Apology

I borrowed your pen that was on the desk,
You were probably saving it for a poem or two.
Forgive me.
I got black ink on your white carpet
That was fresh and new.

Afraid - Apology

I pushed you away
Afraid of the hurt,
Afraid of the love
And the sorrow.
I'm sorry.
I pushed you too far.
I'll never get
Another chance.

Car - Apology

I have taken your car out for a spin
I intended to get it washed afterwards.
Forgive me,
You'll never see me again
Because I was stupid too...

Snowstorm - Cinquain

Snowstorm,
Winds howl nightly.
Warm inside by the fire.
Smoke blows into the frigid night.
I'm safe.

Lighthouse - Cinquain

Lighthouse
Solid, Eternal.
Rain, Storm, Vigilance.
A guide through the darkness.
Beacon

Poised - Haiku

Poised within a glen
A deer in endless flight
Bounding through the trees

Autumn - Haiku

Autumn leaves falling
Caught up within the zephyrs
Winter is coming

Prayer

Give me one more chance Dear Lord.
Another one to give.
Another one to live Dear Lord,
And another to forgive.
Give me one more chance I pray
To live my life another day.
Give me one more day to laugh,
Another one to cry.
Give me a life of love Dear Lord,
Before you let me die.

Words

I took those words you said to me,
Bottled them up inside,
Never to give them back.
Forgive me.
I couldn't bear it
If you said them to another.

Promises

I took your promise literally
I thought you would follow through
I'm sorry that you could not see,
How much I depended on you.

Sea Fever

(A/N Does not belong to me)


I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship
and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song
and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face
and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again,
for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call
that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day
with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume,
and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again
to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way
where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn
from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream
when the long trick's over.
-- John Masefield

Secret Revealed

"Tell me a secret," Hannah whispered, nudging me in the side.

I looked up at her, "what kind of secret? There are so many different kinds and different levels of secrets. There are everyday secrets, and there are deeper secrets, secrets that you don't mind people knowing, and secrets that you would guard with your life," I said.

She blinked at me, clearly at a loss for words.

I smiled, "alright, here's a secret for you. One that few people know," I said, drawing out the suspense.

Hannah leaned in close to me, "tell me."

"I'm colorblind," I said.

Never Will

I don't think I ever told him about that night. The night I first kissed him. We had talked many times since then, but I don't think he ever knew that it was my first kiss. He never knew how long I had waited to find someone special, someone that I could love enough to give that special moment to.

I don't think he knew how important he was to me, how much I had come to love him in such a short time. He probably didn't know how much it hurt to lose him, because I never told him that I loved him.

And now I never will.

Know what they say...

"Can you keep a secret Mark?"

I looked up from where I was studying my textbook. I pulled off my glasses and wiped them slowly on a piece of soft cloth, "of course I can," I said, "but you do know what they say."

"I have to tell someone or I'll go crazy," Sam said and leaned in closer.

I placed a marker in my text and turned my full attention towards Sam. He was practically jumping up and down. Sam was a journalist for a local newspaper.

"I heard about something big that is going down. I was looking into the recent death of Brock Tharen, the one that died of a heart attack, and I found a whole host of other unsolved, or mysterious deaths within the same two hundred mile radius," he said in a whisper, looking around briefly to see if we were being overheard. "I think that there is some sort of organization that is taking out these people. I figure it can't be one man," he said, 'too many deaths in too short a time.

I took off my glasses again and gave them another brief swipe with the cloth, "have you told anyone else about your suspicions?" I asked.

"No, I thought I could rely on your opinion," he said.

"Just as you should," I said with a smile and beckoned him to follow me, 'though you never did answer my question about secrets. Do you know what they say about them?"

"Not really," Sam said with a laugh.

"Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead," I said. I wasn't laughing as a slipped a knife between his ribs.

Seek

Seek along the mountain tops, and forests dark and deep.
Seek, to find, the mysteries they keep.
Seek among the glades, seek within the dales
Seek a newer way to go, blaze another trail.

Travel down the pathways and out into the world
Find the old forgotten roads, let your sails unfurl
Push aside the brambles, seek a different way
Keep on walking forward, begin another day

Sweet spring grasses, gathered for a bed
Make the heather, a pillow for your head

Let the stars to be your guide
Lay beneath the summer skies.

Faded Scars

A wounded heart is criss crossed with scars,
Thick and faded.
Some, thin and dripping.
They get picked at,
Again and again,
Building a barrier
Calloused and hard.
Marring that soft
Vital organ


(not really finished, but I wanted to get it down.)

His Voice

I squirmed with a tiny bit of guilt whenever Joyce asked me about the tapes. I know I was supposed to turn the tapes back in. After all it's only fair. Eventually I knew that another blind student may need them, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't give up his voice.

I smiled as I moved about the kitchen, preparing a little bit of light lunch for myself and Chris, Diane following me around. He was coming over soon to read an additional supplement from class.

My thoughts turned back to Chris. He had volunteered to help me any time that I needed it. I'm sure I had blushed when he told me that. Even now I could feel my face getting warm from thinking of him. He didn't know that I had kept the tapes.

When we were together, it wasn't just his voice that drew me in, it was him. His voice, his personality, his warmth. I knew that if I just reached out that I could touch him, he was never far away when we were together. That always comforted me.

There was another reason that I kept the tapes. What if one day he wasn't there? What was going to happen when he graduated, or I did? We would go our separate ways and that would be that.

I heard the doorbell ring and the sound to Diane's nails on the floor as she trotted to the front hall. I followed quickly, movements sure in my own home.

"Hi," he said, and I could tell he was smiling.

"Hi Chris," I said and patted Diane on the head, "come on in. I have things set up on the table.

"Sounds good," he said and followed me down the short hallway into the kitchen.

You're on

When I sing, I sing only for her. I know that other women come to listen to me, stare at me in rapt attention, dreamy looks floating across their faces. They never see more than my smile, I make sure of that.

It doesn't seem to matter if it's in English, Italian or French; all my songs call to her. I can see it in her eyes, the puzzled look that creases her brow as of she is trying to puzzle something together.

I look out from the side of the stage, from that slight part between the curtain and the wall. I look out at her. Alastrina, sitting so poised and beautiful near the bar. I take in her figure from afar, her green dress swirling just perfectly about her knees. I can also feel the butterflies building in my stomach. Each time I sing to her it's as if it's the first time.

"You're on Partrick," the stage manager told me as he brushed past me.

I swallowed a bit nervously, and reminded myself why I was doing this. I was doing it for her. Hopefully I wouldn't need to keep secrets from her much longer. I stepped out onto the dark stage and found my place as the opening notes flooded into the room.


Hush now baby don't you cry
Rest your wings my butterfly
Peace will come to you in time
And I will sing this lullaby...

Silken Goat

"You look surprised to see me," Andrew said, reclining on a plush chair.

I blinked, still not quite sure what to make of the situation, "what are you doing here?" I finally managed to get out.

"Didn't you hear that I've been reformed?" he asked. He sipped at his cocktail, smirking like that cat that ate the canary. "I paid my debt to society and they let me out for good behavior," he said. "After all, I was wrongfully imprisoned," he put on a look of hurt, "and I was such a model prisoner. They never had any problems with me at all."

But all those people you killed, all the lives you destroyed. How could they let you out?" I asked.

Andrew stood up and walked across the room to the bar, glancing back at me, "come now Benjamin, I never actually killed anyone, and those so called 'lives' were barely worth calling lives anyway. It was a mercy to them."

"You might fool them," I said quietly, "but I know what you are. A monster. A cold blooded killer who will never change."

"But I have changed Ben. Your government even said so," he laughed.

I shook my head and stepped towards the door, "put silk on a goat, and it's still a goat," I said and walked out into the night.

(Not really what I had in mind for this. I think I will try this quote again later at some point. I really do like it.)

Cursed

The blisters on the bottom of my feet seared with pain, each step a fresh agony, every mile a torment. Remote hills marched ponderously closer and receded into the distance behind me.

I didn't know where I was going anymore. Didn't know where I had been or what the next rise would show me; I only knew that I had to keep moving forward. Forever wandering. This was my curse and my punishment.

It all seemed so long ago now. A curse placed upon me for an innocent mistake. I thought back on how I had come to be on this long road.

Nadya was as beautiful as the sunrise and as fair as the spring wind and I had made the mistake of falling in love with her. She was of the wandering people. The Romani, the gypsies. They were an old people. With old traditions and old magic. Nadya had been promised to another, but I didn't care. I foolishly persuaded her to run away with me. I was sure we would be happy together.

That was before her mother had found us out. I remember the coldness in her eyes, deep, fathomless eyes that seemed to burn even as they froze. She simply stepped between us. She looked me in they eye and said, "Poate tu rătăcească pe faţa pământului pentru totdeauna, niciodată de două ori dorm in acelasi pat, nu bea apă de două ori din acelaşi bine, şi niciodată nu cruce de două ori acelaşi râu într-un an."

From that moment on I have continuously wandered. Never resting more than a day and never in the same place. It was a long time before I found anyone that could translate the words that had been burned into my memory. And when I did, I finally understood.



May you wander over the face of the earth forever, never sleep twice in the same bed, never drink water twice from the same well, and never cross the same river twice in a year.

Speech in Silence

It was a long time before I realized why David was so different from other men, and people in general.

It wasn't the fact that he was gentle, I knew a few men who were just as gentle. It wasn't that he was extremely handsome, though he certainly was. It was simply the fact that he said nothing at all. Ever.

I realized it the day that I ran right into him. The boss had just bawled me out for turning in a project late and I was hurrying back to my desk to finalize the plans for the new high rise that our firm was building in the heart of the city. I wasn't looking where I was going, furiously making notes on my hand held about the specs that needed to be updated and the building codes that had to be checked, when I slammed right into someone, knocking the both of us down amid a flurry of papers.

"I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. I made a grab for some papers that were floating within reach. "I wasn't watching where I was going. It's all my fault," I said.

I finally looked up after gathering the papers and my eyes met Davids.

"David!" I gasped, "I... I didn't know it was you."

He smiled at me and made a calming gesture.

"Are you alright?" I asked, "Is anything missing." I reached out to take his offered hand and stood up straight. David nodded and handed me back my hand held. I could feel my brow furrowing in confusion, "David?"

David simply smiled at me and reached into his pocket for a small pad of paper and a pen. "I'm alright. Are you okay?" he jotted down in a neat hand.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't realized," I stumbled over an apology, embarrassed that I didn't know that he was mute. I felt my face grow red.

"It's alright," I read from his paper, "sometimes silence is also speech.”

A Garden in My Pocket

"Found one!" I called out in excitement.

I pounced in glee when my eyes fell on a pocket version of my favorite book, The Count of Monte Cristo. Ann and I were following our usual Saturday ritual of combing through old book stores for rare finds.

I thumbed through the slightly wrinkled pages, noting the slight water damage to the edges. The print was excruciatingly small, but I didn't mind too much. Not when I had the opportunity to carry it with me anywhere.

"Susan, are you finished?" Ann called out to me from the front of the store. I smiled in response to my friend, though she couldn't see me at the moment. I could always count on Ann to join me in a book hunt.

I stepped around the end of a shelf and spotted my friend. She was petite, with red hair and bright blue eyes. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose.

"What did you find?" Ann asked.

"A copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. And it's small enough to carry anywhere," I said with excitement.

"But you have at least four copies of that book already," Ann laughed. We quickly payed for our purchases.

"But this one I can take anywhere. After all a book is like a garden carried in the pocket," I said.

Beyond and Beyond

"Where are you going Brandon?" James asked. He stood to the side, watching me pack an old leather backpack; the type you would associate with a long journey.

"I don't really know," I shrugged, "not yet at least," I another item in the bag. Set to the side of the bag in a neat pile was a long walking stick and a map, a rain coat and a pair of sturdy boots.

"I guess a better question would be why are you going?" James asked and nudged me, prodding for answers.

I muttered under my breath, words that echoed in my mind; burned in my soul.

"I didn't quite catch that mate," James said and he leaned closer.

I straightened up and looked my friend in the eye, "beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea. And East and West, the wanderthirst that will never let me be. It works in me like madness to bid me say goodbye. For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky," I quoted, the words finally spilling free.

James blinked in surprise at the intensity. In those few lines he began to understand what drove me to travel, to see new places.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" James asked after a moment, the words of the poem still echoing in his mind, reverberating with a hidden power.

"I wouldn't mind at all," I said with a smile, "long roads seem shorter with a friend at your side."

Almost Got It

"Hurry up!" Joe urged, almost hopping up and down with impatience.

"You're not helping," Bryan replied as he wiped a sheen of sweat from his face.

"You realize that we could all die?" Joe said.

"Gee, I didn't know that Joe!" Bryan said, laying the sarcasm on thick, "it's not like I can't see the timer. This isn't as easy as it looks."

Joe started pacing back and forth as Bryan continued to work, literally humming with anxiety.

"I've almost got it," Bryan mumbled more to himself than to Joe.

Joe stopped pacing to watch his friend intently, "ten seconds he warned."

Bryan could hear the beeping of the timer and held his breath as it read 3...2...1

He let out and explosive breath and let his head drop into his hands, frustrated with his failure. "I can't believe I have to start the level all over again," he moaned and picked up the controller

Your Time is Up

Joe was ecstatic. Time had run out and he was ready to leave. He smiled to himself, Not only was he leaving behind this nightmare of a foster home but he had somewhere to go. Joe grabbed a few more things and placed them in a box.

As if sensing the end was near, Hal came bursting into the room. Joe could smell the booze on him and he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the putrid scent.

"Where do you think you're going?" the drunkard slurred in Joe's general direction, his eyes unable to focus very well.

"Shouldn't matter to you," Joe said. He could hardly stand the sight of the man let alone the smell.

"You don't turn eighteen until next week," Hal said as he approached Joe, his hand curling into a fist, "until then, you stay."

Joe laughed, tears coming to his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation, "you think you can make me stay? You think you can tell me what to do anymore? You think I'm going to stick around and let you try to ruin my life further? Though, heaven knows, the only thing that you could do is make me sick from looking at you," Joe said in derision.

"I'll teach you a thing or two before you go," Hal threatened as he moved forward. He didn't see how Joe shifted his weight, hands held loosely by his side.

Before Hal could raise his fist Joe had struck quick as lighting, his own blow landing in Hal's spongy midsection, followed quickly by a vicious right-cross to the face.

Hal stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, gripping his stomach in obvious agony. He looked up to see Joe standing over him and flinched back from the rage in his face.

"Your time is up Hal," Joe said and stepped over the prone man on the ground.

Almost Finished

"Don't you ever worry about deadlines?" Ariana asked as she filled in yet another line on yet another college application. She not only needed to finish fulling out the applications but also write up the required essays. She and David were applying for all the same schools and hoping that they were accepted to the same ones. She was holding out for an East coast school.

"Not really," David said. His own papers were all neatly filled out and sitting in a pile along with the essays; he was intent on addressing envelopes. "If you are prepared and start early then there is really no need to panic over deadlines."

Ariana knew that he was right and that she should get batter at prioritizing. She knew that she was smart; she just didn't like to think about deadlines. Didn't like to feel pressured. She laughed to herself, her lips twitching into a small grin, "you would think that as much as I don't like pressure that I would have had these done a while ago like you did."

David shrugged and leaned back, "everyone deals with stuff like this differently," he said and leaned over to give his girl a quick hug. "Are you almost finished?" he asked.

"Yeah. Almost finished," Ariana said and turned back to her forms.

Simply Ask

"Time's getting short," Bryan taunted his brother, his tone almost sing-song in quality.

"Don't you think I know that!" Mark snarled back. His hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously as he paced back and forth in the room that they shared.

Bryan stood off to one side of the room and watched his twins restless pacing. "Seriously," he asked after a few minutes of the one man parade, "what is the big deal about this? It's not like it's the end of the world or anything."

"Easy for you to say," Mark muttered.

"What was that?" Bryan asked leaning forward.

"I said, that it's easy for you to say that. You've never had troubles with this sort of thing. It just comes easily for you," Mark said.

"Okay, seriously," Bryan said, "just go and ask her. I know you like her and she likes you, and the dance is in three days. And," Bryan stressed, "if you don't ask Katie now then somebody else might and then you lose out."

"You're right," Mark said and sat down on the edge of the bed, "but I just don't know what to say." He had heard all of the various girls around the school gushing about who had been asked and how and all the creativity that seemed to be an intrinsic part of the biggest dance of the year.

"How about, would you like to go to the dance with me?" Bryan suggested simply. He reclined on the bed with his hands crossed behind his head.

"I guess I should go and ask her then," Mark said.

"Now is as good a time as any," Bryan replied sagely and tossed his brother his cell phone.

Mark caught the phone and heard a quiet ringing coming from it followed by a faint, "hello?"

Mark raised the phone to his ear and swallowed hard, "Hi Katie, it's Mark...."

Know What it Takes?

"Come on Steve!" Bryan called down the hall, "are you ready to hit the club?"

"I can't come," Steve called back, adjusting his glasses with one hand while his other hand kept his place in the shuffle of papers on the desk.

"What!? Why not?" Bryan asked as he entered the room. He was dressed to go out. A slightly iridescent black shirt was paired with comfortable jeans.

Steven looked up from his paperwork, "because I have reports and paperwork to finish that are due next week. And they won't do themselves," he said calmly.

"Aw man, take the night off," Bryan wheedled, "you can get it done tomorrow."

"If I do that then I will get behind," Steve said as he turned back to his papers, "do you know what it takes to keep this unit running smoothly?"

Bryan thought about that for a moment, realizing that he didn't know exactly how everything got to where it needed to be and how they got their money, or paid their bills or received their supplies. He always assumed that some clerk in the military handled the logistics of the team.

"I guess not," Bryan finally said.

Steve nodded, more to himself than to Bryan and returned to his paperwork as Bryan left the room.

"I should be free on Friday night though!" he called to Bryan. He couldn't see Bryan's grin as he walked out the front door.

Any Good?

"What are you reading?" Hal asked, plopping down beside David. Hal was one of the few people that David would count as a friend in this school. One of the only people who would make the first move to initiate conversation.

David held up the slim novel, "Persuasion, by Jane Austen," he said.

Hal tried, but didn't succeed in suppressing a bubble of laughter. "Why on earth are you reading that?" he asked, merriment dancing in his eyes at the thought of his friend reading such a girly book.

"Just because you would never broaden your horizons doesn't mean the rest of us don't," David sniffed in mock disdain, "besides," he added and smiled a little, "it's one of Ariana's favorites."

"What's it about?" Hal asked, still clearly amused.

"It's about a military man who fell in love with a young girl. The young girl gave up the relationship when pressured by her family. They split up and he went to sea. He came back years later and this is the story of how they both cope with it. It's a story about waiting," David said.

"Is it any good?" Hal asked, his tone low, as if embarrassed to be caught asking.

"It's really good," David said, "I'll let you read it when I'm finished if you want," he continued, casting a sidelong glance at his friend.

Hal looked around quickly, "alright," he said, "if it's as good as you say then I'll check it out."

David smirked a little and returned to the story.

Moving Memories

"What are you looking for?" Jen asked as she watched Joe rummage through a tattered old moving box.

"Nothing in particular," he said, brushing dust from his cheek.

"What's in the box?" she asked leaning a little closer. She could see old papers, notebooks, and some odds and ends.

"It's just a bunch of stuff from the past," Joe mumbled, his voice muffled from his head being in the box as he dug deeper, "I haven't looking in this box in years."

Jen leaned against the last unpainted wall of the apartment, she was wearing white overalls and a pair of faded old sneakers. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and the rest was trapped by an old red bandanna. She held a paintbrush in one hand, letting her arms rest atop her knees.

"What made you decide to look in the box now?" Jen asked; she eyed the young man in curiosity.

Joe looked up at her and smiled, "because of the move, silly," he said. It had taken them a while to agree that they should get an apartment together and even longer before they found one that they liked. "Isn't that what people do when they move? They go through old boxes and relive the past, try to decide if they want to keep the stuff, realize the memories it brings back and decide to keep it though they will hardly ever look at it again,"

Joe's searching fingers had grasped a thin glossy book and pulled it from under the pile of papers. He smiled fondly at it as he thumbed through it. "I haven't seen or though of this book in years," he said.

"What book is that?" Jen asked looking over at him.

Joe stood up and crossed the room to sit beside her, "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," Joe said, "Alec used to read it to me when we were young. Whenever I was having a bad day."

Jen glanced sideways to see if Joe was in pain, but was relieved to find only a fond smile tugging at his mouth. "Will you read it to me?" Jen asked.

Joe's smile widened and he flipped open the front cover. "I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair..."

Spoiled

Mark eagerly began the last chapter of his novel, Warbreaker. He had waited a while to savor this book until he had a little R&R and could take the time to really enjoy it fully. He could almost see it as if it were being played out in front of him. It was one of the reasons he loved to read. He could see it. He could rewind and replay a scene over and over again.

"Hey, I've read that one," Joe exclaimed as he wandered into the living room, "isn't it fantastic? I loved the ending, didn't you? I especially like the part where Vash defeats the bad guy at the end and the God-King is proven to be... Wasn't that a surprise?"

Mark looked up at Joe, his eyes flashing in anger. "It isn't a surprise anymore," Mark said flatly as he snapped the book closed, "do you know how long I've been waiting to read that?"

Joe swallowed hard, suddenly looking like he would rather be anywhere else than where he was. Joe slowly backed out of the room before turning and hurrying down the hall.

Mark growled in frustration and tossed the book aside. He hated a spoiled ending.

Speak-Easy

Mark couldn't remember how long it had been since he had played the piano. He ran his fingers across the dusty keys and picked out a few chords. The bench creaked as he sat down, his weight settling the ancient wood.

Only one or two keys were slightly out of tune as Mark tested them out, his fingers flowing across the ivory. Music flooded the room and it sounded like an entire jazz band era orchestra was coming from the old piano. A vision seemed to materialize from the notes that shimmered in the air.

One could picture a 1920s speak-easy, fedoras tilted at rakish angles and the air hazy with cigarette smoke. Low conversation punctuated by the soft clink of ice in glasses of illegally obtained booze. Smooth men in suits with smartly oiled hair played cards and transacted business deals. Women were resplendent in tight cocktail dresses, hair perfectly coiffed, faces painted up to look like perfect china dolls.

Servers in tuxedos ghosted through the room, collecting glasses and lighting cigars. A piano sat in the far corner of the lounge, a smartly dressed man in slacks and suspenders sat on the bench, coaxing popular tunes from the instrument.

With a final flourish, Mark raised his fingers from the keys and the vision of the speak-easy faded slowly into the dusty darkness.

Brother My Brother

Joe let his fingers lightly caress the strings as he hummed a wordless melody, his pitch perfectly harmonic to the chords he strummed. A ripple of sound rolled off six strings and echoed through the wooden body of the old guitar that Alec had left behind.

"I didn't know you played the guitar," David said as he poked his head into the den of their little apartment, his thoughts had been sidetracked when he had heard the quiet music.

"I don't really," Joe replied, "Just the chords that someone once taught me. I shuffle them around into different patterns, though it never comes out quite right."

David stepped out of the room, his mind returning to his paperwork when he was arrested in his thoughts again as Joe softly began to sing, his voice a rich tenor.

"Brother my brother
our time, it was so brief.
We laughed until our days were gone
And now we come to grief.

Time and again I remember when
We laughed until we cried.
And even though the memory is strong
It feels like I'm dying inside.

Your spirit whispers softly
urging me to carry on.
Still you keep me from falling,
Even now, when you are gone."

David hadn't noticed when tears had begun rolling down his cheeks.



(I am proud to say that I wrote those lyrics myself just for this piece.)

Beatbox

Steve sauntered down the hall towards his math class, headless of the looks that he got as he passed. He tapped rhythmicly on his thigh as his lips contorted, his voice forming the strangest sounds. For a moment it sounded like a snare drum to be followed by a base drum, a kick, some base, and various synth sounds, all of it tumbling from his lips in the most compelling patterns.

Steve leaned against the wall outside his class room as he continued to Beat box, his eyes closed and his fingers keeping time on the wall; increasing in tempo and complexity. He finished with a flourish of sounds and stepped into the room just as the bell rang, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Anymore

Each tear is a searing needle
Digging deep into the soul
Every memory a traitorous
Tether, binding free will.

Lightest brush of the fingers,
Tingles remembered. Dancing.
Dancing across the skin.

Simple embrace,
seeking comfort.
Fitting together
Just like before.

A stolen kiss
Quiet whispers.

I can't do this anymore.

Gift of Life

Give me life and give me hope,
New beginnings and
Springtime joys.

Give me air and light,
Bright days and
Starry nights

Give me freshening winds,
Dancing waves and
Soaring birds.

Give me majestic pines
Wooded hills and
Rocky slopes

Give me vast deserts,
Shifting sands and
Scorching earth.

Give me frozen ponds,
Drifting snow and
Misting breath.

Give me a world of wonder.
Each day a gift and
Each night a dream.

Don't Remember

Don't remember how once
You thought to fly,
Buoyed up on the warmest drafts,
Circling higher than you dared imagine.

Don't remember the giddy dreams,
The impossible visions,
Of what might have been.

Don't Remember.

Forget the gentle touch.
Forget the whispered word.
Forget the shadowed gaze.
And forget the sweetest kiss.

Forget.

Forget it all.
For the sake of sanity
And self preservation.
Forget what you had.

File it all into the past
Neatly ordered.
Every thought and wish and dream.
Keep it safely forgotten,
Labeled carefully in your mind.
Let it collect the dust of time.
Become yellowed with age.

Until you forget it was ever there.

Shut Up

"We're lost."

"No We're not. We are exactly where we are supposed to be."

"Oh really? Since when did Utah have a great river running thorough it?"

"The Colorado River runs through Utah."

"That isn't the Colorado. It's to big. I told you we should have taken exit 251. But you didn't want to listen to me."

"Then what do you suggest genius?"

"Pull off at the next exit and turn us around. Duh."

"Fine. There's a sign coming up. It says.... Wyoming 120 Miles."

"I told you."

"Shut up..."

Mama

"Hi mama," I said quietly as I knelt down in the cool grass of the late afternoon. I reached out and brushed a little bit of dirt from the smooth granite of the headstone; it was still a little warm from the sun.

"There are so many things I wanted to say to you," I began to talk to my mom, as if she were there, as if she could hear me. "Things that I never had a chance to say. Things that I didn't understand or couldn't express," my voice trailed off as memories came to the surface. Memories of good times, memories of how she had shaped my young life. Many of my memories flitted like insubstantial wisps, and others stood out in sharp detail.

"I know I probably never said it enough, but I love you. And I wanted to thank you," I paused, again assaulted by memories. "Mama thank you for who I am," I began, "thank you for all the things I'm not." I knew that because of her my job had a purpose. I was not like many of the others in the units who had little to no soul, who didn't care who they hurt and why.

"Mama remember all my life, you showed me love, You sacrificed. I think of those young and early days and how I've changed along the way," I continued to ramble on, just pouring my heart out. I felt tears begin to form, this day had been long in coming and now that it was here I found it hard to go on.

"I know you believed in me and I know you had dreams. And I'm sorry it took all this time for me to see; That I am where I am because of your truth. I miss you," I choked out, "I miss you."

I stood up on unsteady feet, "Everything that I am I owe to you, mama," I whispered and turned away.

No Second Chances

"Just a minute," I called towards the door when I heard the knock. I could feel my brow crinkle with confusion. Nobody that I knew would be coming around in the afternoon; they all had regular jobs that kept them busy. 'It's probably some door to door sales person,' I thought absently as I quickly finished typing out the last paragraph that I was working on and closed the lid to my laptop. I pulled a sweater on over my thin shirt as I stood up; the weather had gotten chilly recently and I didn't want to get sick. I was way too busy for that.

The knock sounded again on the pale oak of the front door.

"Yes? How can I..." My words died on my lips as my eyes fell on the man standing on my doorstep. A man I hadn't seen in four years.

"John," I whispered in shock.

"Hello Chris," he said, his mouth pulling into a crooked smile. A smile that I knew as well as if it were my own.

I was too stunned to even respond. A thousand memories and feelings connected to that smile stampeded across my mind.

"Chris?"

It was almost as if I heard him from a distance, his voice faint, an undercurrent to the rush of blood in my ears. "Chris? Are you alright?" he asked when I didn't move.

I jumped like I had been electrocuted when I felt his fingers brush my arm in concern.

My eyes once again focused on what was in front of me, "What are you doing here John?" I took a step back so that I was firmly out of reach. I didn't know how he had found me or even why he was here.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said as he folded his arms across his body, as if to keep his hands to himself.

"So talk."

"Chris, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he began.

"It's Christina," I interrupted him, "please don't call me Chris. Nobody calls me Chris anymore."

'Nobody since you,' I thought to myself.

"Okay, Christina," he almost stumbled over my full name, "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, that I was completely in the wrong..."

His voice faded into the background again as the memories of that night so many years ago played across my mind.
********

Most of the memories of that day were fuzzy, distorted, and even missing, but what I did remember was that it had been raining that day, the moisture was thick in the cool September air and the sun was playing peek-a-boo in the clouds. I remembered waiting for him. He had promised to meet me, that he had something to tell me. I remember sitting on our bench in the park, my coat pulled tight around me, and waiting.

I was still waiting when the sun went down, and when the rain began to pound harder. I remember being puzzled, and then worried, and then angry. And I remember realizing that he wasn't coming. So I went home.

I expected him to call. He never did. And I never saw him again. Until today.

"Can you forgive me Christina?"

I focused on him again. "I'm sorry John, but it doesn't work like that. You don't get to destroy someones life and then get to waltz back in as if nothing had ever happened."

"Chris..."

"It's Christina!" I almost shouted. "Chris stopped existing a long time ago. She stopped existing the day you left," I finished quietly, barely more than a whisper. I could feel the tears beginning to pool, but I would never let him see them.

"I'm sorry John, but there are no second chances," I said as I slowly closed the door on my past.

Henry

Henry was all angles. From his bony elbows and knees to the sharp angle of his chin. Tall, was what people called him when they were being polite. Fire red hair stood up all over his head in cowlicks and swirls, his bangs falling into his bright blue eyes. His deep quiet voice seemed to rumble up from the earth, or from the general vicinity of his size 18 shoes.

His movements were always slow and studied, as if he were afraid he would break something. And he felt awkward, as if he never quite fit.

Always out of place.

Dale

Screams echoed in his head. Screams from battles past, and not so past. Screams of the innocent as well as the guilty, of those he had killed and of those that he had simply stood aside and let die. Voices that lingered, reverberating inside his head, rising and falling with the rush of blood through his veins. They were as much a part of him as his own heart beat.

Dale pressed one slender hand to the side of his head, as if willing the voices to silence by sheer force alone. And when he opened his eyes, they were fathomless black.

Beth

Her skin was almost translucently pale; her hands thin and spidery, and she shivered in the stiff January wind that blew off of the ocean. 'Time's getting short,' she thought, and it wasn't just the sinking sun that crossed her mind. Eyes, the same color as the waves stared off into the distance; watching waves merge into horizon.

Beth wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her stocking cap closer about her bare head, the wind seemed to cut right through her as if she wasn't even there. Pretty soon she wouldn't be.

Soon enough, only the wind would remain.

Jelly

'How cliche,' she thought and rolled her eyes in self derision; but it was true never the less, that every time he looked at her she felt her legs turn to jelly. It was hard to focus and stand up straight. She hated to think of her reaction if he ever actually touched her. She was certain it would be more like water than jelly.

Impassive

Masses of shaggy blond hair obscured bright blue eyes; set in a face that seemed to be cut from stone. Intensely focused on a computer screen, his fingers flew like lightning as rows upon rows of coding filled the monitor, bypassing all of the buildings security. A grim smile flitted across his otherwise impassive face as he initiated his program.

Sirens began wailing as all security protocols were negated and doors began opening. Standing slowly, he calmly packed up his equipment and walked out of the building and into the night; as others more accustomed to confrontation, flooded the building.

Forgotten

It was late by the time that Sarah and Chris were finished for the night. They had gone from his small dorm room to sitting in a booth at a local restaurant. Chris had suggested dinner after Sarah's stomach let out a loud rumble around seven o'clock.

"I don't know that I can thank you enough for helping me Chris," I said as my fingers absently tore a bread stick to pieces. Chris had read and reread the case file at least a dozen times, and I was sure that he was bored silly by now. "Is there any way that I can make it up to you for stealing your night? I'm sure you had other plans and many things to do today." I really wished that I could see his face. Just a single glimpse to connect to his voice.

"It was my pleasure."

I felt the slightest jostle to my plate and heard Dianne move by my feet. Chris was feeding her my bread.

"What time is it?" I asked. I didn't want the night to be finished, but I did have classes the next day and mom would be worried if I didn't come home soon. She had called at least five times, but I had ignored it.

"About nine-thirty," he said.

"I should go," I muttered with a small frown.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked after a moment.

"I would like that." I could feel a large smile replace the frown.

We stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night and I shivered slightly. Although it was officially still summer, the nights could get a little chilly and I had forgotten my sweater. I hadn't counted on being out after all.

A slight weight settled around my shoulders as Chris draped his jacket around me. I pulled it close with one hand, taking in the smell of it. "Thank you," I said.

We ambled slowly down the road towards my house, Dianne knew the way so I let her lead us. We kept up a slow conversation as we walked; mostly question about like and dislikes, and from time to time I would ask him to describe what he saw. He would always paint a vivid mind-picture of whatever he saw- Crimson flowers and wet grass; each petal and blade sparkling with a recent watering.

I knew when we had reached my house, the wind in the reeds around the porch whistled in the breeze. I turned to Chris, "thank you again Chris. I enjoyed every moment," I said.

His voice smiled when he said, "I enjoyed it too. Let me know if you need help again."

"I will." I offered one hand towards him and he took it. His handshake was firm and steady; slightly calloused too, as if he worked with his hands a lot.

"Have a good night Sarah," He said and he stepped away from me. I heard him walk down the path and down the street and I faintly heard him start to whistle.

It took me a moment to realize that he had forgotten his jacket.

Little Extra Help

"Please have the case file read and be prepared to discuss it tomorrow in class," Professor Spinelli announced and I felt a stapled sheaf of paper placed in front of me.

I hadn't heard of the case on any of the tapes that I had yet listened to. Maybe it was on one of the next tapes, but I didn't hope overly hard. If it had been in the book then we wouldn't need the handout.

Perfect...

I shuffled my notes into a neat pile and placed them in my bag along with the packet of papers. Dianne was already on her feet, anticipating the walk to the library; which is where I would usually go after this class was finished.

"Office," I commanded her as soon as we were out the door of the lecture hall. After a moments pause, instead of leading me left she turned to the right.

53...54...55...56...curve to the right... up the stairs.

I was only distantly aware of keeping count of steps and direction in the back of my mind, my predominant thoughts resting on my problem as I walked towards Joyce's office.

***************

"Well hello Darlin," Joyce said as the door to the office swung closed silently behind me. I could hear the smile in her voice, "what can I help you with? It's not your usual pick up day."

"I have a bit of a problem," I said and leaned on the counter, "Professor Spinelli gave us an additional case to read and I didn't know if it was by any chance on tape somewhere." I handed her the case file.

"Hmm, I don't believe so my dear," she said, "in fact I'm almost positive that it's not on tape."

I knew that it had been a long shot, "I guess I'll figure something out," I said and turned to head home. Maybe I could get my mother to read it to me.

"Wait," she called as my hand hit the door handle, "what about the boy that reads for you. You might be able to have him read it to you a few times."

"He's probably busy," I mumbled, but I couldn't squash the little bit of excitement at the thought of meeting the man who read for me, "and I don't know his name, or where to find him."

"It can't hurt to ask," she said brightly, "His name is Chris Hensley, and he lives over in the dorms." She gave me his building and room number.

"Okay," I said and gave a little smile. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

**********************

After a little confusion in getting Dianne to go where I wanted I finally found myself on the proper floor in front of the right door; after asking a few people to direct me.

After a moments hesitation I knocked firmly on the door. The thin wood was no barrier against the squeak of furniture and a growl of irritation that I could hear from behind the closed door.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," I whispered to Dianne.

The door was pulled open quickly and I heard Chris's voice say, “Look, Eric’s not here, and I’m not going to keep giving you his stuff --” The irritation in his voice was very evident.

“I don’t know who Eric is," I said. I was pretty certain now that this was not a good idea.

"Hi,” Chris said. I wasn't quite certain of the emotion in his voice with that one short word.

“I think you have the wrong room," he said. I couldn't help loving the sound of his voice, of feeling like he was a friend. "One floor up or one floor down - those are both girls’ halls,” he said.

“I’m looking for Chris Hensley,” I said, even though I knew that was who I was talking to.

“That’s me,” he said.

“I knew as soon as you spoke,” I said and could have smacked myself for blurting that out. Instead I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I listen to your voice all the time.” I could feel myself blushing.

"You do?" he asked. I wasn't sure if it was surprise or something else that colored his tone.

“Yeah. You read textbooks for me.”

“Oh. Right. What can I do for you?”

My smile faltered just a little at that. I ducked my head; a habit from my seeing days, in an attempt to avoid eye contact. My grip on Dianne's harness tightened in nervousness.

“I didn’t know where else to go. Professor Spinelli handed out an additional case for tomorrow’s reading assignment, one that wasn’t in the book, and it wasn’t on the tape, and when I went to the office, Joyce said maybe you could help me...”

“Of course,” Chris said. “Do you have the case with you?”

I nodded. “It’s in my bag. I’m really sorry - I can come back later if it’s a more convenient time for you."

“Now is fine,” Chris said, "my roommate’s out but why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

"Thanks," I said and stepped past him into the room, catching a hint of sweat and some aftershave that was quite appealing. Dianne lead me to a chair. He didn't close the door and I nodded slightly in approval.

I heard the bed squeak just to my left, close enough that I could almost feel him.

“All right. What have you got for me?” he asked

Was it excitement or something else in his voice now? I was so used to listening to him reading dry legal texts that I wasn't used to hearing his emotions. I was uncertain and I didn't like that.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the briefing that was handed out in class.

“Here,” I said. “Will you read to me?”

He took the papers from my hand, "sure," he said.

I smiled at him, "Thanks."

Stranger in his own Space

Chris had just been about to peel off his shirt and check for cracked ribs - Dan had definitely broken skin today, and there was another unsalvageable shirt down the drain - when there was another knock at the door. Chris growled and heaved himself off his bed. If it was Eric’s lab partner, back for yet another notebook, Chris was going to throttle the kid.

“Look,” he said, “Eric’s not here, and I’m not going to keep giving you his stuff --”

“I don’t know who Eric is.” Sarah stood in the doorway, mouth pressed into an uncertain line. Dianne sat obediently beside her.

“...Hi.” Chris was careful not to say her name; as far as she was concerned, he had no reason to know her name. “I think you have the wrong room. One floor up or one floor down - those are both girls’ halls.”

“I’m looking for Chris Hensley,” she said.

“That’s me,” Chris said. How did she know his full name?

“I knew as soon as you spoke,” she said, and she reached up, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I listen to your voice all the time.” Then she blushed.

“You do?” Chris asked stupidly.

“Yeah. You read textbooks for me.”

“Oh. Right. What can I do for you?”

Sarah ducked her head. “I didn’t know where else to go. Professor Spinelli handed out an additional case for tomorrow’s reading assignment, one that wasn’t in the book, and it wasn’t on the tape, and when I went to the office, Joyce said maybe you could help me --” Her grip on Dianne’s harness was white-knuckled.

“Of course,” Chris said. “Do you have the case with you?”

Sarah nodded. “It’s in my bag. I’m really sorry - I can come back later if it’s more convenient --”

“Now is fine,” Chris said, and he wanted to kick himself. He sounded too eager, didn’t he? “My roommate’s out. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”
“Thanks.” Sarah stepped over the threshold into Chris’s room, let Dianne lead her over to the desk, and then she sat down in Chris’s chair. He went to close the door behind her, then thought better of it.

And then he panicked. His picture of her was right there over his desk for anyone to see -- expect her. Right.

He perched tentatively on the edge of his bed, close to her, and he hadn’t felt like a stranger in his own room since he was a child.

“All right. What have you got for me?”

Sarah reached into her book bag, searching with deft hands. It was a touch uncanny, the way she felt without turning her head toward her bag. She handed Chris stack of papers stapled together in one corner.

“Here,” she said. “Will you read to me?”

Chris accepted the paper gingerly. “Sure,” he said.

And she smiled at him. “Thanks.”

(Written by Nagi)

Action After Hours

Chris tugged his hoodie up to shield his face - his black eye was painful and obvious, and even the ever-oblivious Eric would ask questions. He jammed his hands into the pockets and started toward the park. He’d deal with the bloody sports tape later.

And then he saw Sarah and Dianne walking along the pavement ahead of him. What was she doing out this late? Blind people weren’t at the same disadvantage at night as seeing people, but campus was downtown, and it wasn’t safe for her, not when - not when a guy like Blake was leaning under a lamppost, drinking from a hip flask and eyeing Sarah like she was his next meal. Chris’s hands curled into fists.

Blake arched an eyebrow when he noticed Sarah’s cane, and he stuck a foot out, kicked a tiny pebble. Sarah jumped, tugged on Dianne’s harness, and Dianne paused obediently.

Something akin to fear crossed Sarah’s face. "Let's go," she said.

Blake peeled himself away from the lamppost and fell into step behind her. Chris automatically ducked back into the shadows; Blake hadn’t seen him yet.

Dianne, on the other hand, had noticed Blake, and she growled. Chris saw Sarah flinch. She called out, “Who’s there?” and then Dianne snarled.

"Hey sugar.” Blake stepped up behind Sarah, and his grin went from amused to dangerous.

Sarah’s shoulders tightened, and she shifted away from him, almost imperceptibly.

"Now don't be like that honey,” Blake drawled. "Tell Fido to calm down and we can get to know each other."

"I don't think that I want to get to know you.” Sarah’s words were bold, but even Chris could tell she was afraid.

Blake raised his eyebrows, circled her like a shark eyeing a fish separated from its shining school. He chuckled when Dianne snarled again, hunkered down in front of Sarah with her fur standing on end.

Blake reached into his jacket, and Chris remembered that Blake liked to keep a butterfly blade on hand; he thought he looked hardcore because he could flip it open like a 1950’s greaser.

Chris stepped forward, into the wan yellow glow of a streetlight. “Leave the woman alone, why don’t you?”

Blake blinked and took a step back from Sarah. “This doesn’t concern you.”

"Clearly she doesn't want to have anything to do with you,” Chris said, moving closer to Sarah, “and the best thing for you to do would be to go away and leave her alone.”

"And what if I don't?" Blake looked Chris up and down, smirking disdainfully.

Chris tugged back his hood. "Then I will just have to make you.”

Blake laughed, spread his arms wide. "Bring it on!"

After twelve years of bare-knuckle boxing, a guy like Blake was an easy match. He was strong, but he wasn’t as fast as he thought he was, and he lacked the necessary form to hit very hard. Chris had to duck and weave to avoid Blake’s knife, but he landed a solid uppercut that sent Blake sprawling. Once he was sure Blake was unconscious, he turned to find Sarah, who was huddled beside Dianne and shaking like a leaf.

"Are you all right?" Chris stood beside her, unsure of whether to hunker down beside her or just keep standing. Was he looming?

Sarah nodded, though she kept her face buried in Dianne’s fur.

Chris offered a hand even though she couldn’t see the gesture. "Can I help you?"

A sound half like laughter, half like a sob spilled from Sarah. “I think you already did.”

Chris glanced back to where Blake was lying on the pavement; he wasn’t sure he’d been that much help. "Can I walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safe. You shouldn't walk alone at this time of night."

“Yes.” Sarah patted Dianne gently, and Chris realized that Dianne hadn’t growled at him once.

“I would be grateful,” Sarah added. “This way.”

Chris actually knew where she lived by virtue of having seen her paperwork in the office, but he walked beside her anyway, letting her interject directions into his long ramble about Kierkegaard. He knew she was shaken, that she wouldn’t say more, but he was sure that if she said too much she would recognize his voice, and then what could he possibly say?

Maybe he could tell her how much he liked her.

(Written by Nagi)

Help in the Night

"The time is 11:47 p.m."

A click resounded over the line and I knew I was going to be in trouble. Mom was going to kill me. I slammed shut my text books and stuffed them into my bag. "Come Dianne," I said. I grasped the handle to her harness and commanded, "home."

Dianne immediately started to lead me and we left the Library. I hurried down the steps of the campus Law building as safely as was possible. I could feel the cool night air whisper across my cheek as I picked up the pace. "I can't believe that I let myself lose track of time like that," I muttered. It sounded much different outside now than it usually did; much quieter. I couldn't hear many people around me and the traffic was faint and far away.

I was passing the park when I heard a rock clatter against the pavement, causing me to jump. I pulled Dianne to a stop for a second, listening. I heard nothing.

"Let's go," I urged my companion. A few moments later I was certain that I heard faint footstep behind me and I quickened my pace again.

The vibrations from Dianne's growl reached my hand just after the sound reached my ears. "Who's there?" I asked. I knew it was stupid, but it somehow made me feel better to hear my own voice. As unsteady as it was.

Dianne let out a snarl and I could feel that tingle that let me know that someone was nearby.

"Hey sugar," an oily voice came to me from close by.

I flinched away from the voice.

"Now don't be like that honey." There was faint amusement in the voice now, "tell Fido to calm down and we can get to know each other."

I cleared my throat, "I don't think that I want to get to know you," I said in the strongest voice I could bring up; though even to my own ears it sounded pathetically weak and jittery.

He chuckled from to my right and I could tell that he was circling me. Dianne moved with him, keeping herself between me and Oily. I jumped again when she let out a particularly vicious snarl.

"Leave the woman alone why don't you," a new voice broke in.

"This doesn't concern you," Oily said, though I could tell that he had stepped back a little.

"Clearly she doesn't want to have anything to do with you and the best thing for you to do would be to go away and leave her alone," he said. His tone was deep and carried a strong and soothing quality; a tone of command. Whoever he was, his voice was enough to make me feel safe at the moment.

"And what if I don't?" Oily taunted. He was moving away from me towards the other man.

"Then I will just have to make you," he said.

Oily laughed, "Bring it on!"

I went to my knees and buried my face in Dianne's neck when I heard the first blows, seeking comfort and trying my best to not hear what happened. I covered my ears, but I could still hear the sickening sound of flesh on flesh and the grunts of pain.

A few moments later there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing nearby. I didn't know who had won the fight.

Dianne growled and I hugged her tighter, fearing the worst. That Oily had won and the strong voiced man had lost the fight and he was coming for me.

"Are you alright?" the strong voiced man asked.

Relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice. I nodded my head mutely, to shaken to say anything.

"Can I help you?" he asked gently.

A relieved laugh burbled up in my throat, "I think you already did," I said. I slowly released Dianne and stood up shakily.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked, "just to make sure you get there safe. You shouldn't walk alone at this time of night."

"Yes," I said and ran a soothing hand over Dianne to calm her, "I would be grateful."

As we moved in the direction of my home he kept up a soothing line of commentary. I didn't really listen to what he said, I just focused on the sound of his voice.

It seemed so familiar...

Hear and Listen

"Are you sure you lead me right?" I asked Dianne when we stopped in front of a door. She let out a huff as if offended that I might doubt her.

"I really hope they have the books I need on audio. It would be so much quicker than trying to read them in braille," I said and laughed as I patted her on the head. Here I was talking to my dog as if she could talk back. I must be losing it.

I greeted Joyce as I stepped through the door and waited my turn to be helped. I shifted my heavy binder to my other arm as I listened to the conversations around me. It was interesting how much I could pick up about people without knowing them. Just from what they say and how they say it. The difference between hearing and listening.

"Sarah," Joyce exclaimed when it was my turn; I smiled at her lilting accent, "what can I do for you?"

"Do you have any of the pre-law textbooks on audio? It's just that it takes me so long to read anything in braille. I've only been blind for about ten months," I explained.

"Oh my dear, I had no idea that it was so recent!" Joyce sympathized, "let me see what I can find. I'm pretty sure we have some somewhere."

I stroked Dianne on the head, lost in my own thoughts. I felt the tingle that told me that someone was near just before Dianne barked loudly.

"Sorry," A voice said from behind me.

I turned toward him and gently tapped Dianne on the head, “Dianne, no barking at strangers,” I said. I smiled in the man's direction, “I apologize - sometimes she’s a little overprotective, thinks people are threats when they aren’t," I said. I wasn't quite certain that he wasn't a threat, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I didn't mean to make her nervous," he said.

Something in his voice struck me as familiar. I tilted my head to one side, listening, hoping he would speak again so that I could place his voice.

Joyce chose then to return. “I have an old recording of some of the pre-law books to get you started, but we haven’t had anyone record the new editions yet. As soon as we get new recordings in, we’ll let you know," she said.

I nodded my head; accepted the recordings and turned back to the door, "thank you very much," I said," I knew it was a little much to hope that the recordings were current, but it was a hope all the same.

I clicked my tongue at Dianne and I felt her jump to her feet, "let's go girl," I said and let her lead me down the hall. I hoped that the recordings were current enough to get me through my tests until someone read the new versions.

I let my mind wander as Dianne lead me through the maze of halls towards my next class. I puzzled about the voice. It seemed like I should be able to place it, but I couldn't. It was like I had heard it in a dream, or it was a voice I met in passing.

I shrugged it off and clicked at Dianne, "come on," I said, "we have to get to class."