XII:XV

The ancient, hammered clock struck midnight in the hall, just inches away. The rain outside pounded against the windows, deftly rapping its morse code upon their smooth glass to no soul apparent to the listless, restless night. A sliver of light, dancing to and fro, escaped from beneath the door of the bedroom down the hall, no doubt the flame from mothers candle being frisked angrily about by currents of air thrown through a crevice by the fiercely blowing wind. Just beyond the edge of the stair, where hungry shadows awaited to devour the remaining light and anyone foolish enough to step within its boundaries, a sound eddied from the world below and just as quickly as it had begun its heavenly decent it was hushed by manner unseen (or unheard.) A whispered, perhaps an imagined, hungry sound. With a mighty force that must have sent the rain sideways and tree limbs swaying with fury, the wind seemed to push its weight with an even heavier might so much so that the dying, dancing flame of mothers candle was doused all at once, the light retreating from whence it came, leaving the shadows a finish to their meal; first the stairs and now the landing and anyone foolish enough to remain standing on its seemingly safe and sane quarters. Darkness, robbed of light from moon, stars or other heavenly or earthly illumination, settled itself over the whole of the place, as the clock struck twelve-fifteen.

An Afternoon in March - Personal Writing

I'd gone to the park to grab a few minutes of quiet, to let the warmish wind blow through the car a bit and enjoy the remainder of the fragrant and sunny Spring afternoon as the clock toddled into evening. The sun had made its descent into a welcoming westward sky, the birds had refrained their chorus, most likely catching a well-deserved lazy afternoon nap and the sound of a jet bound for someplace, important to its passengers, made its way across a brilliant blue sky spotted with a few skimpy, gentile clouds. As bad as it had gotten and as bad as it might get, one thing was for sure; those few moments of certainty, while the voices of children laughing and playing in the park below could be heard, the world sort of stopped for a minute or two and let you get in one good breath before the carousel started back up again in fast forward. In those few, precious moments, where you just want to pull all of them aside and say, "take not, this innocence, for granted. Hold onto to it for as long as you can!"

Farewell, teacher...

A very close and dear friend of mine died this past year. They didn't die of the usual causes, either. It wasn't a heart attack or a tumor. They didn't contract some dreadful disease and perish nor were they lost in a traffic mishap nor did they slip and drown in their bathtub. No, they changed. With it, they took the parts of them I knew and most treasured. They became just like everyone else. The qualities that made them unique, much like a terminal disease effecting the body, they just withered away and died. I would like to say these qualities were replaced with equitable qualities, perhaps hidden from view. Yet, my faith in that possibility just isn't there.

No memorial services will be held...