Dream Dark Stories

Tag: Death

  • Whoooo, Now What?

    I finished it. Finally finished it. After pages and pages had been pillaged, bagged, smoked, rewrote, gouged, burned, reversed, jumbled, rewritten again, and again, smashed to oblivion, and finally written again. It’s finished. 

    I sigh with a joyous breath of calm and scan through, marking everything, editing every sentence, and character that’s gleaming out from every page.  I smile with a slight grimace, unsure, where’s this unsurity ensuing from? Why don’t I celebrate? I’m done. But there’s so much more to this isnt there?

    Why did I rush this? Why did I dedicate the last two and a half years to this, and then, here near the end, blast through with an urgent rapping at the helm? I’d scoured every page front and back, edited from beginning to end, and gave my friend a rounded, well-thought-out, polished version of his life story. Commas are in place, run-on sentences excised, paragraphs etched and modeled to represent the best of this man. I didn’t want to take away the easy-going nature of John’s character and spirit, so I let him write from his point of view as it is when it is. Something is moving in his writing as though he remembers these old memories and moments as though they happened in the now. I find it comforting, and I enjoy the way he recalls this and that so effortlessly. And now I’m done.

    So why is there a hollow feeling within? Why does my heart feel heavy? I’m proud of my work and being finished, but there’s a salt to the air and my breath holds.

    He’s dying, matter of fact. Two weeks ago, he’d told me of his diagnosis. I felt stunned, distraught,  and a harrowing sadness digging deeper than I’d expected. He hadn’t smiled, giving this information; if so, it was meek and quick, but he told me sincerely and with not a quiver in his throat. I tried to stay collected and calm, remembering I’m not dying, well, not like he is, and this isn’t about me. But then I think of him and how he’s become a surrogate father and a great friend, how he’s introduced me to the calmness of being and gentleness of the heart that leaves me feeling cleansed and detoxed of the poisons from my past. He’s taught me how to allow forgiveness from others and what it means to be humble. He’s shown me humility and grace, and I’m left here, not knowing what to say to him to thank him.

    Now, thinking in the darkness, writing this out, I think I know why I pushed it out quickly, like ripping a band-aid off.  I’m afraid of saying goodbye, but want to give him the gift of a finished book before he’s gone.

    It seems contradictory to the unspoken wants left behind, meaning plenty but never being mentioned, and to die with what’s to come.

    C’est La Vie

    NOSCE TE IPSUM

    I

  • Rabbit for Brunch Pt. 1

    Rabbits for Brunch Pt. 1 by: M. R. Vega

    Josie found comfort in hearing the neighbors squabble in the early mornings day after day while she would do her morning stretches. Timothy and Nicky were two loud and vivacious spirits who sang their worries while the hummingbirds fed at Josie’s garden sugar feeder. They’d argue outside about foods and music then would make amends inside behind the shaking blinders. Josie blushed to herself and tried with an anxious itch to hear anything but. As men, they mimicked her mother’s elegance and reflected the shine they each saw within one another, however, not only was Josie envious of what they shared she begged within, that David her busy-body man would take note and show her such care.That was merely a wish that she often shook off and tended to the bushes, roses, tulips, and daffodils. When the men sharing a wall in the backyards weren’t outside jousting with one another verbally, she’d chitter to the squirrels and whisper to the birds her deeper wishes. She’d stretch toward the sun-splashed sky and yawn in the gentle dew as it coated her lungs with an energy of a thousand blades of grass at every inhale. She’d then exhaust the grief of being lonely and having to wait til later in the night for a touch, even if it was David’s hand at her back for but a moment. Sadly, she sighed that want away and finished her yoga or tai-chi each morning. Looking off into the neighbor’s yard for but a glimpse of two that loved one another more than she could wish and vied daily for her man to burst through the doors with a want that called to her heart. Though it was only a dream, it was a dream enough that kept her waiting.Timothy and Nicky would call to Josie each morning, showing her their rabbits, and examining her fruitful garden while they’d trade spices for her peaches, tangerines, or tomatoes. They’d share recipes and stories of how they met their partners. Her story was generic, something any Hallmark movie shared but Tim and Nicky’s was explosive and a powerful storm to be jealous of. Each of the men would smile, with pity behind the crow’s feet, and caress her hand with a pat before going back in to love up on each other. Josie would exhale heavily, shaking her head, aim toward the shower after texting David wishing him home, wishing him love. But often to no avail. She’d express often in text, and usually only in text how she wanted him. 

    Now, sadly David was daft and nearly empty of a tenacity that wanted love and only mimicked what he’d seen in film, he’d followed the characters he had grown up seeing and tried almost effortlessly in being a carbon copy of those testosterone-fueled men. He felt that it was cruel but deeply wanted to make Josie happy, and making him an image she’d wanted was something that fueled his advances at work. Being a contractor for Florida’s biggest construction company, brought him access to being busy and keeping his profit up to par, never having to explain why he’d leave so often. In his eyes giving her all she wanted was something that filled him, and only him with satisfaction. If only he knew…

    Josie unaware of who David truly was still dreamt of them frolicking in the sheets til the sun came up, still woke to an empty bed. Today though her phone was buzzing non-stop, she looked at the message handle and saw fifteen missed calls and thirty texts all from David. The window was wide open, she could feel the cool beach air wafting into the room and smell a salt all too familiar and breathed in with a smile. She didn’t look at the messages or listen to the calls, she could hear the two neighbors making their odd noises as they often did in the morning and rolled her eyes, quickly walking to the bathroom to clean up anticipating David arriving momentarily, and hurried her lather and rinse.

    Once clothed in some shorts and a sweater, her hair still wet she went to the back to stretch away her worry and anxiety while she awaited the sound of David’s truck pulling up to the garage. However, there was a silence that haunted the air around her and she peered around first at the neighbor’s house, sure she’d see their blinds shaking but nothing moved. The birds didn’t flutter, traffic was lacking except for what she swore was a horn honking incessantly and called out to Timothy and Nicky. Neither of them answered, their age and them being retired, she knew this was odd and thought of maybe hopping the stone wall to knock on their sliding door but then saw Timothy stumbling past the window, he didn’t look her way as she gazed through their window. Instead, she watched in horror while she watched a rabbit of theirs tossing in the clutches of Timothy’s. She called out for an answer to what it was Tim was doing and still, neither Nicky nor Tim responded. She could feel that there was something wrong, she could hear the silence encroaching on her heart and then saw Timothy open his maw with a veracity that she’d only seen on national geographic documentaries from childhood and muffled a scream while she watched in horror Timothy clamping his teeth into a rabbit, Snooks, a rabbit she’d nicknamed Thumper and quickly hit the grass of her own yard when she realized Nicky was grabbing at the rabbits in their pens. She pulled in a breath not daring to move and prayed silently, quivering and wishing her back door was closer than the 100 feet it seemed like it was.