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

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

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.

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."

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..."

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.

Nothing

My name is Shane.

At least that's what they tell me. Anything that came before waking up in the hospital is lost to me. All I can remember is opening my eyes and seeing bright fluorescent lights above my head and hearing a beeping to my left.

I remember taking a deep breath and trying to clear my dry throat; it was scratchy and sore, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

"Hello?" I called out, and suddenly I was surrounded by many people; some checking machines, and others checking me and asking me questions that I couldn't answer. All I could say was, "I don't know."

It felt like that was all I could say for the longest time. "What's you're name?... I don't know...Where are you from...I don't know... Do you know what happened to you...I don't know..." I felt like a broken record.

After what seemed like forever they all went away; left me to my thoughts; though those were rather blank as well. It was like a soft black wall that I could push against, but I couldn't get through it. Whatever was beyond the wall stayed hidden from me.

I sat in silent thought for a long time, only interrupted when a young woman brought in a few things and placed them in my lap. A wallet, keys, and a few papers.

I flipped open the wallet to reveal the face of a smiling young man; dark brown hair and laughing bright blue eyes. The name read Shane Briarwood. Five foot ten, one hundred and sixty-two pounds. He lived in a city in California.

I set aside the wallet and picked up the keys. It was a simple set of keys. Two brass keys on a ring as well as some type of car key; but to what kind of car I couldn't tell. I set the keys next to the wallet

I next picked up the papers. They were covered in close neat writing, addresses and names. Snatches of poetry, random and unfinished. Nothing was familiar.

"Mr. Briarwood?" a voice said from the door.

I assumed I was being spoken to so I turned my head towards the voice.

"Mr. Briarwood, you had quite an accident. Can you remember what happened?" the doctor said.

I blinked. The name held no recognition for me.

"Mr. Briarwood?"

...Nothing...

A Night For Dancing

The level of light didn't change when Rose stepped from the twilit street into the Book of Dead Names. A quick glance around revealed a short hallway lined with coats, hats and shawls. Rose nervously slipped her own light jacket off and hung it up on a peg,the emerald green playing against a white fur coat that hung on the next peg over.

Rose moved down the dim hall towards the soft golden glow of the room beyond. As she stepped into the room Rose drew in a breath in wonder at what she saw. A magnificent chandelier spilled warm light over the large room, the very outer edges of the light just stopping short of private tables and nooks that were separated with heavy velvet drapes, tied back to reveal beautiful tables. The tables were filled with people talking quietly in twos and threes or playing a variety of games; each table was softly lit with a small candelabra that hung from a nearby pillar. The sections of wall that was not taken up with rich velvet were lined with books, many of them worn and valuable. Along one wall ran a short bar which ended in a small recessed area that was occupied by a four piece band. The music that filled the room was slow and had a slightly jazzy edge to it. The middle of the room was taken up by a dance floor, the wood shining beautifully in the candle light.

After a slight hesitation Rose moved along the perimeter of the room towards the bar where she slid into a seat with relief. A moment later one of the three men that staffed the bar approached, "What can I get for you Miss?" he asked.

"Just some water for the moment please," Rose said, trying to keep her tone level.

The man nodded politely and moved away, returning a moment later with her water.

Rose gratefully accepted the water and sipped at it as she turned to look at the room; she was sure that this was the place, he had described it so well that even had she had never come here she was sure that she could have pictured it in her mind. Rose set her glass down and smoothed the skirt of her green dress, her eyes continuing to watch the room. A nearby grandfather clock struck nine o'clock, its deep resonant tones carrying through the room. As it finished chiming the hour Rose felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Rose smiled and turned to the man behind her.

Warm pale green eyes looked out of a handsome face, the barest hint of red stubble shadowed a strong jaw and a soft smiling mouth. Rose quickly looked him up and down, revealing a well cut suit that hung perfectly from his slender frame.

"Hi," he whispered, his mouth quirking into a half smile that sent shivers down Rose's back.

"Hi," she whispered back, leaning into his touch as he traced her jaw.

"I wasn't sure you would come," James said; he couldn't stop looking at her.

Rose didn't want to tell him just yet that she would always come when he called her.

"Will you dance with me?" James asked as he took her hand.

"Of course," Rose said and let him lead her to the dance floor.

A familiar song floated across the room as James pulled her into his arms and flowed smoothly into the waltz; Rose following his every movement, though her eyes never left his face. They had the whole floor to themselves and they took advantage of it, moving gracefully around the floor in time to the music.

As the song ended another filled the room after a brief silence. James pulled Rose closer to him, one hand holding hers against his chest as his other hand softly stroking her hair.

Rose sighed in content as she let her eyes fall closed and her head rest on his shoulder as they swayed slowly. She breathed in his scent; letting him fill all her senses; his quiet heartbeat that she could feel in his chest, his warm body close to hers.

"Rose?"

Rose could feel his voice in his chest, "Hm?"

"Rose, Will you marry me?" James asked as they drifted to a stop with the end of the song.

Rose's heart skipped a beat and she raised her head to look into his eyes, wanting to know for sure that he meant it. Rose kissed him softly, "yes she whispered."

Defeated

"I will avenge you, my brother in arms," Owain vowed solemnly, slicing open the palm of his hand to let his blood drip on Cynon's grave, "I will bring you justice; your soul peace. I will find the Black Knight and kill him," he whispered.

......

Sir Owain staggered back from the Black Knight, a sword through his chest, his breathing wet and labored as he struggled to rise from where he had fallen.

"No," he whispered, "it's not supposed to end this way," Owain said.

"No one defeats the Black Knight," the Knight declared as he delivered the final blow.

Out of the Box

"Didn't I tell you not to open that box!" Zeus thundered at Pandora.

"I was just curious," she said as she hung her head in shame, "all I let out was hope, charity, love, kindness, and all those other things. Aren't they good things?" she asked timidly.

"Yes they are," Zeus said, "but you also listened to the last voice in the box and let it out."

"It said it was a good thing too," Pandora defended herself.

"I suppose I can't get to mad at you," Zeus said.

"What did I let out of the box?" Pandora asked.

"Deceit."