In the Dark

 In the Dark

I speak her name into the dark

It floats in the air, heat on cold,

Before disappearing into the night. 

I stroke her hair under the gaze 

Of nobody in particular and ask

Myself if she's going to be alright. 

I let her dance to her favorite songs

I don't laugh or fall back on my old

Safety net, half sarcastic- half mean.

I skim over discourse and threads

And refrains most unpleasant

To see if it's safe to let her be seen. 

The answer is no. The devils

Are many and they take and take

Until sweet souls are all broken.

So I sit with her in the darkness

Our breaths held in perpetual wait

Until those words are safe to be spoken.

The Artist in Nothing but a Nightshirt

He always starts at the neck

Teeth like tiny sparks.

I lean into it, then arch away.

A gentle push and pull. 

He growls into my flesh and

The vibrations ride my veins

Like a bullet train. 

His hands are nomads

Traversing terrain, that he insists

Is worthy of their continued visits. 

The scars they trail across are

Gorges carved by a goddess

Not unthinkable ruins of a time

Before him. Before this.

He slips below the waist and

I vanish. He's warm and soft

And demanding. He's a jolt of

Adrenaline straight to my core.

He plays a beautiful song that

I can't help but moan the words to.

Then he sings. A song without

Words. Just feelings. Sensations.

It curls inside me and I'm one with

The choir of heavenly cherubs. 

My hands find his hair and I demand

An encore.

My Gender Is...

 My gender is a lost dog 

Digging through the refuse 

Along an unfamiliar city street. 

My gender is a gopher

Wearing a tweed jacket 

Hitting the snooze button 

For the fifth time. 

My gender is the soft, gentle 

Scraping sound of a hot washcloth 

Trying to scrape away the golden

Hairs that lie like grass along an arm.

My gender is the scene from that

One courtroom movie, where all

The jurors are screaming while

A condemned man sits in silence

Surrounded by people who

Want him dead. 

My gender is a thousand whirlybirds

Kicked into the air by Autumn,

Slowly spinning back down to earth. 

My gender is a word that you love

Even though you can’t remember

What it means or how it’s spelled. 

My gender is a faucet left running

Because someone told me that if

It gets too cold and the faucet isn’t running

Then everything will just freeze up

And shatter into a million pieces, 

And even though I feel like that would be

Entertaining, I leave it running anyway. 

Cave of Echoes

 “It’s called the cave of echoes,” said the guide. His voice didn’t echo, which was odd. “It is said to have been used by the royal family for thousands of years.”

    “Used for what?” asked the financier. 

    “The jury’s out, I’m afraid. Meditation is the most common theory.”

    The cave was massive, lined with emerald crystals of various girths. The room had been lined with lanterns for the tour, but the three people who had traveled down here all could swear that the gems gave off a glow of their own. 

    “In any event, I don’t know what you’re hoping to find here.’

    “Oh… I’m just open to the possibilities.”

    “Careful, captain. That ledge looks unstable.” The captain nodded and placed her foot more carefully upon the next stone. 

    “We’re almost there, ladies. Pick up the pace.”

    As they reached the bottom ledge, they saw a brilliant light in the distance. It was almost too bright to look at, at first, but soon their eyes adjusted to the strange blue tint. 

    “Why is this one blue?”

    The guide coughed. “Nobody knows.” He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “It is marvelous though, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “Agreed,” said the captain. The other two started, almost forgetting that she could speak after nearly an hour of spelunking in silence. They were even more startled by the revolver she pulled from her side.

    She bent over and wiped the financier’s blood with two gloved fingers. She walked over to the massive crystal and wiped the blood across its glowing surface. She paused a moment, examined the room, then cursed.

    “I swear, if I travelled all this way for nothing,” she muttered to herself as she made her way out of the chamber. Her mumbled curses faded as she reached the top of the steps, returning to the room filled with green crystals. 

    Her face broke into a thin smile when she saw the financier lying on the ground. Although, she hadn’t thought about finding her naked. The captain took off her jacket and placed it around the dazed woman’s shoulders. She didn’t think the woman’s more ample body would allow her to close the jacket, but eventually she managed. 

    “What…what happened?” said the financier. 

    “You and the guide slipped down the stairs. I managed to catch you, but…”

    “Oh no! We need to get help. Is he…”

    “He didn’t make it, I’m afraid.”

    The financier shook her head.

    “But it’s alright.”

    The other woman looked at the captain for a moment. Then she nodded. “It’s alright.”

    “Let’s go home now, shall we?”

    The financier nodded. “Yes, let’s go home. I need to find something else to change into…”

    “Mhmm. You do look lovely in my jacket though.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Not another word.”

    The two walked back in silence. When they exited the cave, one of the captain’s men greeted her with a salute. 

    “Buy the lot,” she said. “Oh… and send someone down there to collect the bodies.”

Flames (October Challenge Day 5)

 At first, I was nothing. 

And then

A Spark. 

It danced across my fingertips 

With the poise and grace

Of a prima ballerina. 

It glowed. It burned. 

It asked for nothing but to be fed

And kept. 

But the more I fed it,

The more of me it ate. 

Until we were both

Nothing but ashes.

I learned to fear the fire. 

Not for the raging heat. 

It was never violent with me. 

All I ever felt was 

Pressure. 

I feared what it meant. 

What it wanted. 

To swallow me whole. 

Mind, soul, and spirit. 

It longed for me to be nothing

But an extension of its will. 

And it made the sweetest sounds

When I gave it what it wanted. 

Then I burned something

Something precious. Someone…

I wanted the fire to consume me. 

To reduce me to nothing like it had

So many houses and so many trees

And so many friends. 

But it couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. 

Then a light shined into my head. 

And I knew the calm that would

Quell the flames. 

It still burns within me. 

A constant reminder of the things

I’ve done. But it isn’t bad. 

Fire isn’t just destruction. 

Fire is light. Fire is warmth. 

Fire is rebirth. Is reborn.

And so am I.

Clowning Around (October Challenge Day 8)

 Barnaby Hughes was just about sick of being a clown for hire. He had done everything over the past few years. Children's birthday parties. Carnivals. State fairs. He even visited some kids at the local hospital. And yeah, he got to give a few people some good laughs. 

But he couldn't deal with all the weirdos.

It started out with Boppo. Boppo had gotten upset because Barnaby called himself Barpo the clown. He got the go-ahead from the higher-ups, but that didn't stop Boppo. If Barnaby booked a birthday party at the arcade, Boppo would show up too. If Barnaby got a deal with the local garlic festival, Boppo was there too. Apparently working for next to nothing, so he could make sure he got a spot near the main events. 

But that would have been fine. Annoying, but fine. Of course, Boppo decided to get his buddies involved. Stretch, Slaps, Gogo, all kinds of characters. And they didn't just show up at jobs. He saw Stretch one time performing on a street corner outside Barnaby's mother's house. Slaps got a gig making balloon animals on the same day he took his niece to the amusement park. 

And, he could swear that he had seen Gogo outside his house. Standing in the woods. Watching him. 

It was with a good deal of relief when he put in his notice. He had two jobs to finish, and then he was out of the business for good. His brother-in-law had gotten him a job testing software for his tech company. He'd always had a head for numbers. The clown thing was… something else. 

He arrived at little Jonah's bar mitzvah a good hour early. His mother has been so thrilled when she'd seen all the stuff he'd brought. The last gig was at the carnival, and they mostly provided their own stuff. Jonah's party was where he could get rid of all the stuff he'd been collecting over the years. 

The kids loved it. Even Jonah, who'd originally been a little sour that his mother had hired a clown, got into the spirit when he got to pie the rabbi. 

But, as Barnaby was finishing a little girl's balloon animal, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and gazed across the road. Standing in an otherwise empty parking lot was Stretch, Slaps, Gogo…

And Boppo. 

Gogo caught him staring and waved excitedly. He held up a finger as if telling Barnaby to wait a minute, then pulled out a balloon. He turned his back to Barnaby, made some flourishes with his hands, and turned back around to display his creation. 

It was a noose.

"Excuse me!" 

Barnaby jumped. It was the little girl, May or Mary or something. She had her hand out and was tapping her foot. "Are you done with my giraffe?"

"Oh yeah. Sure kid." He handed her the balloon, then turned back to the parking lot. They were gone. 

When he got home, he called the regional manager and told him what was going on. He promised to get back to him the next day. 

"So," Barnaby said when he answered the call. "Did you tell them to knock it off?"

"That's just it, Barnaby," said the manager. "The four of them left town. I don't know where they all went but Gogo is in Chicago visiting his ex and his kids." 

"I'm telling you. I saw them."

"Look man. I'm sure you're just stressed about all the nonsense those guys put you through. But they're just being punks. It's not like they're dangerous."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

It was an uneventful two days leading up to the carnival. No sightings of Boppo or his friends. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. He was letting his nerves get the better of him.

He got to the carnival and set up a station near the funnel cakes and the ferris wheel. The carnival manager shook his hand and thanked him for sticking around to do the event. 

"I'm glad you picked us for your finale." The man laughed. 

"Oh yeah. I love doing the carnivals. I'll miss these shows the most."

"Good, good. Glad to hear it. Knock em dead."

And despite his fears, Barnaby had a great time. He got his photo taken a bunch, got some good tips, and overall had a great day. By the time sunset rolled around and the big overhead lamps lit up the park, he decided to call it a night. He left his gear with the rest of the stuff, the regional manager had agreed to take whatever he didn't want to keep, and headed to grab some grub before heading home. 

When his deep fried chocolate cookies arrived, he found a spot to sit down and just watched the few remaining guests wander about the Midway. 

And then he spotted a familiar painted face. Boppo was leaning against an empty ticket booth, eyes fixed on him. Barnaby got up and headed the other way. That's when he noticed Stretch standing near the outhouses. 

He picked up the pace and headed further into the carnival. He was just going to have to duck through a barricade and make a dash to his car. Or one of the patrol cars that he'd seen outside. He turned a corner and saw Slapz. The man made a beeline towards him, and Barnaby saw Stretch headed in his direction. 

He turned to the nearest attraction. A fun house. He flashed the attendant his performer badge, although the teenaged kid was so stoned he didn't even acknowledge him, and ducked into the building.

He'd been to this carnival before. The fun house had an emergency hatch, one for kids who got freaked out and needed to be escorted out. He ducked under the shaky rope bridge and headed towards the door.  

Behind it was Gogo. 

"Hey, Barpo. Wanna hear a joke?" 

"Candle" (October Challenge Day 4- Scallop)

 “Candle”

“What is it?” asked Grinjack. The candlelight cast long, weird shadows across his pock-marked face. He was still standing several feet back, his hand always inches away from the knife at his side. 

Sherry smiled. She liked having the upperhand on Grinjack. Which wasn’t especially hard. He wasn’t especially bright. “It’s some kind of sea creature, I reckon.” 

The creature in question looked like a scallop shell except it was covered in golden hairs. Also, it was the size of a small boat. 

“So what?” Grinjack said. “Let’s get going. There’s a lot more valuable shite around here than some seashell.” 

“Don’t you know anything?” Sherry circled the creature, smacking her lips. “These kinds of things often have pearls inside them. And the bigger the shell…”

“The bigger the pearl. Fine Sherry.” He pulled the knife from its sheath.

They both knelt down to get a better look. The shell seemed to be shaking slightly, and a smell like dried blood and salt water wafted into their nostrils. 

“You ever shuck an oyster?”

Grinjack shook his head. “Can’t be too tough.” He shoved the knife under the edge of the shell and attempted to lift it up. “Come on. Open up for Daddy..”

“Gross.” Sherry said. 

Grinjack shot her a look. “Hey. Do something useful and find something to help me pry it open.”  

“Yeah, fine.” Sherry stood up. “Just keep at it.” He gave her a mock salute. She shook her head and headed outside. 

“Where did I see it?” she asked herself. Her eyes scanned the nearby buildings. It was dark, but she was able to make out the long pole of a shovel a few houses down. 

“Gotcha.” She walked over to the shovel and tried to pull it towards her. It was stuck, jammed behind a wooden crate. She shoved the box out of the way and freed the shovel. 

“ARAGH!!!” The sound had come from the warehouse she’d left Grinjack. She ran back, shovel ready to swing at the first guard she came across. 

She charged into the warehouse. There was no sign of anybody. The flickering light only revealed the same shell in the center of the room. And next to it, Grinjack’s knife. 

“That son of a bitch!” Sherry punched the nearest wall. She should have known he’d flake on her. He probably saw someone walking and decided to take the money and run. Now she was left with nothing except a damned shovel. 

She drove the shovel into the slight gap in the shell. She threw her whole body into it over and over again. She would not go home empty-handed. Not again. 

After several dozen attempts, she finally stopped. She was panting, and her sweat was beginning to pool around the small of her back. “Fine.” She spat on the ground. “Damn Grinjack. And damn this town. And damn this bloody, useless shell.”

She started to walk out of the warehouse when she heard a loud snap behind her. She turned. The shovel had snapped clear in two. And the shell had opened. Just a little bit. 

She clapped her hands together. She must have loosened the damn thing after all. She could see something gleaming in the candlelight. Maybe she’d make out all right after all. 

She walked closer and bent down. She’d have to finish prying it with her hands. Still, the hard part was done. She reached a hand towards the creature. Then stopped herself. 

The shell continued to open. So slowly, Sherry imagined she was hallucinating. But no, it was opening on its own. She leaned forward.

A blast of foul-smelling brown liquid shot out at her. It got into her eyes, and she yelped. There was salt in it, whatever it was, and she desperately tried to clear her vision. She could still see something glistening in the candlelight. She was stealing that pearl whether the damn seashell liked it or not. 

Still wiping the gunk away with one hand, she reached the other towards the gleam. It was solid and smooth. And big, probably as big as her fist. She was going to make a killing. 

But why was it sharp? 

She screamed as the shell slammed shut around her arm. The thing she had been touching was a tooth, as sharp as any shark, and it drove into her flesh. She tried to push the shell back open, frantically digging at its edges. Through her blurred vision, she saw as the shell opened up again. She tried to pull her arm away, but the tooth was curved and had sunk right into the bone. 

Then she noticed more objects shining white in the flickering flames of the candles. Dozens of sharp, curved teeth.