extra ordinary

Did you know, if you stared at the reflection of your eyes dead on, a hypnosis happens? A game I liked to play while brushing my teeth is to see how long I could last staring into my eyes. I normally don't last long, but there have been times when I ventured to go farther, and after about the one minute mark, reality begins to lose its grip, and I back out. Eventually, one day, almost a year ago today, I ventured further than I had ever ventured before.

I will attempt to describe the sensation of being hypnotized by one's own eyes.  First the reflection is viewed as normal. And then slowly, pieces will begin to fade away from the periphery. Fading away in this order; room, body, face.  All that would remain in sight are disembodied eyes.  The sensation of floating down a tunnel is experienced.  Disembodied eyes staring into disembodied eyes floating down a tunnel.  

My experience has always been traumatic, for my eyes seem unpleasant to peer into for that long. Its like looking into the eyes of the devil.  A task not for the timid.

At the end of the tunnel, I saw this tree.  The one I stand before now.  Swimming in a monotone soup of chaos.  The tree came forth and danced before my eyes.  And whispers in my head, transmissions of notions and ideas, without the transmission of language.

I knew the tree existed in the real world.  I witnessed it sprout and growth in a second of my time.  When I exited the trance, I sought this tree.  And, doubted my mind, as my life fell apart, when my mission came to an end.

In the tree's bark, I could see movement.  The patterns undulating like the reflected waves in a pond.  It was subtle, but unmistakable, for it was all along the length of the tree.

What is happening? I put my hand on it and could feel the bark's rhythm. Its doing something incredible. What specifically, I could not tell.

"WHO IS THERE?"

I hesitated.

"DO YOU HAVE THE CURE?"

"What cure? I don't know what you speak about.  I saw you before, and came to find you."

"WHERE DID YOU SEE ME?"

"In a vision I had."

"A VISION?"

"Yes, a vision.  Why do you need a cure?  Are you sick?"

"A VISION?"

"Yes a vision."

At that moment the tree snapped in half as if struck by a powerfull bolt of lightning. I knew I had to be confident, but the confidence snapped with the tree.

Mystery Solved?

"Mrs. Eleanor Tyler, could you describe for me the circumstances surrounding the dissappearance of your husband, ah," the questioner glanced down at his notes, pausing momentarilly from his back and forth pacing. "ah, your husband Mr. Jeremiah Tyler?"

"The circumstances. Yes, the circumstances. That morning, Jeremy told me he was going to go to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes and a copy of the Daily News. He did that every Sunday before church so I thought nothing of it. Of course, he never made it back...", Mrs Tyler, stiffling tears, sat crosslegged on an expensive antique chair, holding a cup of tea. All around her, a small group of investigators rummaged through her house. Reading letters, snapping pictures, doing anything to find a clue that could lead them in the right direction.

"What time did he leave?"

"I don't know... 9:30. I was getting dressed for church, and I remember looking at the alarm clock, it said 930."

"9:30. How long does it normally take for you to get dressed for church Mrs. Tyler?"

"Twenty, thirty minutes...maybe."

"Is your husband normally back by the time you are finished?"

"Yes. It doesn't take Jeremy longer than ten, fifteen minutes to return from the store. It's not that far from our house."

"Which store is that?"

"7-11."

"Which one?"

"The one down the street, it is um, like five blocks up 5th there, and then you turn right on, whats the name of that street... Ferndale. It is two blocks from there." More note jotting.

"Mrs. Tyler-"

"You can call me Ellen.", she interupted.

"Ok, Ellen, when you were getting dressed for church and Jeremy did not return from the store, what did you do?"

"At first, I did not notice that he wa-"

"You didn't notice Mr. Tyler was miising?", the questioner was obviously trying his best to sound incredulous.

"Mr...ah, detective-"

"Detective John Foster." The young man walked into view of the middle aged woman and flashed a slight smile while making eye contact. "But you could call me John." Ellen Tyler, despite being in her middle forties, was still an attractive woman. Her face showed some signs of aging, but her body was still firm, as if she worked out everyday The detective appreciated the woman's good looks but kept thinking about how much better she could look if she wasn't a snob.

Blushing from the intimate exchange, Ellen continued, "John, my husband and I have been married for over 25 years. Our marriage would not have lasted that long if I had freaked out every time Jeremy was a little late coming home."

"So, how late can Jeremy be, before you think anything of it, Ellen?"

"When he did not make it back in time for us to get to church."

"What time was that?"

"Well, church starts at 11 o'clock. It takes twenty minutes to drive there. I'd say, Jeremy was gone for well over an hour, by the time I thought something was wrong."

"Did Jeremy carry a cell phone with him?"

"No, I don't think so. He has one, a Nokia, he normally carries it everywhere, but on the weekends he turns it off and leaves it, over there, on the kitchen counter, connected to the charger."

"I see. Has Jeremy done this before? Has he disappeared and then returned a few days later?"

"I don't understand what you are getting to..."

"It is a yes and no question Ellen. Did he, or didn't he? Some men like to have affairs with other women, some men rent hotel rooms and do drugs. I am not saying that Mr. Tyler is one of those kinds of people, but whatever you could tell me, might help bring him back."

"No. Jeremy is a respectable member of this community. He is hardworking and responsible-"

"When did you report this to the police?"

"On Tuesday. Why?"

"If Jeremy has never gone missing before, Mrs. Ellen, then why did it take you two days to report him missing?"

"Like I said, me and Jeremy have been married for-"

"Bullshit! I call bullshit!"

With that declaration, the victorian era room became deafenly quiet. The busy investigators in the room froze in place and then, after a few seconds, returned to their work.

Perplexed, Eleanor Tyler sat, wide-eyed and mouth agape, looking at the detective. Then after a small moment said, "Detective, I think you are out of line. This interview is ov-"

"I'm sorry, Ellen. Forgive me for my outburst, for I have tourettes."

"Tour....what?"

"Tourette's syndrome. I have the inability to hold back impulses. Its not what I wanted to say, it just came out."

Ellen glanced around the room to see if anyone else heard what the detective was saying, Not sure if he was telling the truth or not. "I forgive you. Are you ok? Does that interfere with what you do?"

"No, not at all. Believe me, Ellen, up here," pointing to his temple, "everything is just fine. Tourettes does not prevent from doing my job and doing it well. So continue, where were we? Missing, yeah, has Jeremy ever goine missing before?"

"I already told you! No!"

"Bullshit! I call Buuulll!"

After another long awkward pause, Ellen asked, "Is it the Tourettes again?"

"No, that was me."

"We found this." Detective ....

SNOOOZE.

Booze

"Don't you drink?"
"Booze?"
"Yes, booze."
"No, I swore off of that stuff."
"When was this?"
"Thre... two weeks ago."
"How is that working for you?"
"Pretty good."
"Thats good."
"Yep."
"Cigarettes too?"
"No, I still smoke."
"Cool."
"Yep...although that is next in line you know."
"Well, don't we all?"
"Yep."
"Good luck with that."
"Fuck you."
"Excuse me?"
"Fuck you."
"What?"
"Fuck you."
"Why are you sa-"
"Fuck you."
"Fuck y-"
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck y-"
"Fuck you."

thursday meets friday

Daylight lamps and 24 hour gyms. In a television trance. No food before bed, but beer is ok. Dogs barking. Trains passing. Twinges of pain in arm, no need to google it... Make sure to brush teeth when the time comes. Hair is in the sink. I can taste my lungs. Work tomorrow. Insert ending here as long as it is tragic.

Giants

Every 50 years, the giants come to destroy the village.

The village's inhabitants toil, from sunrise until sundown, growing the tedious crops they need to survive. Problems that plague most civilizations, such as famine, disease, and murder, were the least of their concerns, because twice every one hundred years, their home is annihilated by a race of other-worldy giants.

During the course of many years, they tried to prevent these attacks with a myriad of different approaches. But each plan, no matter how genius it was in design or cleverness, ultimately failed. The once proud people became powerless and trivial. The only thing as certain as the giants was death.

Several times the village was rebuilt in a strategic location. Each location was unique in how its terrain was able to conceal or prevent access. One location was buried many miles deep inside the green forest, its location was only known to a few outsiders. Nevertheless, it was found and destroyed. Another was built on the side of a cliff in a deep canyon. To the villagers surpise, the giants climbed very well and some punched in through the rock behind them. The present village is located not far from the original location. It resides in the fertile valleys hugging the long snake river.

The villagers go about their daily chores fearing when the next attack shall come. Only the oldest villagers remember any of the previous attacks. And the young ones find the stories hard to believe. But the pictures painted on the walls of the temple, illustrate quite vividly the past. Giants, as tall as the trees, and about as wide as the river, made even the toughest warriors quiver with fear. Their triangular shaped heads had eyes that glowed like the sun. Their mouths, set in a permanent scowl, shot fire into huge plumes.

Conventional weaponry, such as arrows and axes, proved useless against the giant's thick metal hides. New specialty weapons were built, some massive in scale, and all of them failed. The heartbreak experienced by some inventors after seeing their life's work dismantled like a child's toy, was unbearable. Many chose to go down with their creations.

Days before an attack, the approaching giants could be heard. A frightening, unnatural sound that reverberates from the mountains , through the trees, and eventually making it to the the village. It is first heard as a low oscillating noise similar to a strong gust of wind but not quite, and then, as the giants near, it is heard as a deep rumble that engulfs and muffles all attempts to converse. The villagers flee into the hills that surround their valley as soon after the first sound is heard. The hills provide a bird's eye view of the assault.

One by one, the giants emerge from a neighboring line of trees. And quickly begin to stomp the village into pieces. And when all is destroyed, they stomp the pieces into pieces.

While they flattened the village, their glowing yellow eyes stared, fixed to the villagers who watched from the hills. They stared a gaze that never broke contact. As they violently stomped through the debris of the once proud village, they seemed almost oblivious to where they stepped. The villagers knew from the stories passed down through the generations that the giants would be satisfied with taking the village and should leave them unharmed, as long as they did not interfere with their business.

When the giants were done with their bidding, they stood still and the world became silent. For what would seem like an eternity but was actually only a few minutes, they stared across the valley up into the hills at the cowering villagers, as if to gloat. As if to say, 'Look and admire our power over you.'

Some villagers fainted. And then a booming noise came forth. It was hard to discern at first but became more evident as the sound of laughter. The giants were laughing at them. One giant noticed a herd of cows feeding, and kicked all of them with one kick into the river.

Then away they went, with gargantuan strides, quickly disappearing into the horizon.

A liitle help.

It was a thoughtless mistake. Two people in a car. One to drive and the other to navigate.
I was not mad, when I pulled the car over and grabbed the map from your small hands. Because it is not your fault that you lack the navigational skills needed to traverse these lands. Every now and then, I look over and see you sitting there in the passenger seat, trying to read those maps. I see it, when you look puzzled at all of those lines, that symbolize roads. Scouring the same ones over and over thinking that you understand it, but then looking some more when you know you do not. Over and over, the roads start to tangle.

I know it really takes a man to understand locations and such so you, being a woman, are off the map reading hook.

However, though I dare not say it to your face less I upset your delicate temperment... The only times your inability makes me mad, is when we land many miles past an intended exit. And when asked about it, you say, "Oh yeah, I saw it when we passed it." Speak up. If you know we are going the wrong way, speak up. Does that make sense to you?

Things you can work on. If you want to get better.

Try to look when I am not. Yeah, I should be looking... but a little help would also be nice. I mean what else do you have to do there? Listen to music? Smoke cigarettes? You can indeed look in the vanity mirror and still have time to glance at where we are. I could easily navigate these higways, freeways, and interstates on my own, but I am not on my own, I am riding with you. And I don't want my reliance on you to be a handicap.

Another thing.
Try to care.

Sometimes, I think that you want us to get lost. I know that deep down, you don't want us to get lost, but the indifference is bothersome. Is it truly all my responsibility? Yes, I am the driver, but aren't we sitting side by side, in this transportation vehicle together? Where I go, you go too. If I am lost, you are too.

And right now we are lost.
But not after a few moments, because the map is in my hands.

Impulsive Asshole

I fumbled with the words. I tried to talk, but all that came out resembelled gibberish. I lacked the smoothness to tell her how I felt. I couldn't describe the magic that was in her singing and guitar playing, nor could I describe her beauty that was like a star filled....fuck it. All I could say was, "Good show."

And her response was to smile and say, "Thanks for coming."

"No, problem." No problem at all. I didn't even introduce myself.

I exited the smoky bar and walked along the dead leaves that filled the streets. The smell reminded me of all the times I spent playing afterschool as a kid. For some reason all I remember is the fall.

All the neighborhood college slash punk kids were flying about on their track bikes. Maybe to some party. A party where I would not know anyone because all of my friends were too old to party. And I am old too, and I still live in a college town.

I picked up a stick and threw it into some punk rock kid's spokes. And he went flying into a telephone pole. I bet he was in a rock band. I am not in a rock band, I dabble with the guitar, but never took any lessons.

"What the fuck man. That was not cool."

A bunch of kids smoking pot were hanging out on a porch and saw the whole thing. shit

One ran up to the unconscious kid and checked on him.

"He is still breathing. Someone better call and ambulance....and the police."

"Fuck that, lets get that asshole."

As I heard that, and with my adrenaline pumping, I ran away as fast as I could.

I flew into my house locking the door behind me. I peaked out of my front window, looking through a small crackin the curtains. I saw the kids, on their bikes, one kid through his down and found a brick. I wondered what he was doing and then backed away as the brick came smashing in through the glass.

"Fucking asshole. I am going to burn your fucking place down."

"I'm sorry guys...it was a mistake, an accident. I did not mean to... "

"That is bullshit! Come out asshole, think you are tough now?"

The police came at that moment and arrested all of the kids and that kid that "fell" on the telephone pole was alright too. I was charged with something, I forget. My dad paid for the lawyer, top notch too, and I was found innocent.

A year later at a different bar, I saw that same songstress again. When I approached her this time, I was ready to introduce myself. I walked up with confidence and said, "Hey, My name i--"

"Your name is Nate, right?"

"Yes! Who told you?"

She shook her head and said, "Not cool man, not cool."

running

He scrambled inside and shut the door behind him. Soaking in sweat and struggling to catch his breath, he leaned hard against the door to hold back the death.

"Did you bring any food?", said a teenage girl from within the dark government office.

"Yes."

"Can I have some?"

"No."

"Then I will have to kill you."

"You could try."

"I will.... do it, unless you give me some of your food."

"You put on a brave face, little girl." brandishing his small sized revolver.

...

They ran into the night, dodging zombies. Clutching their ideals with pale white fingers.