The Haven (Stories in Progress, Neverending)

  I went back today. A mission called out to me from the past and I was burning to see it through. Mother sent me a Facebook message, telling me that my favorite movie was on TV and asked if I had cable to watch it. I told her that I didn’t but I owned the movie on Google Play so I could watch it anytime. I usually played it on Halloween and again in March on the anniversary of when the actor died, but this year had been filled with learning tasks at my job and by the end of both days, I was forced to miss it. While I was waiting on further work yesterday, I turned it on my phone and let the premise take me away. The moment it graced my screen, for the first time in many years, I could feel the dark clad entity I used to be returning like a gentle storm, and I let it wrap me in its comforting embrace.   The Crow, a Graphic novel penned by James O’ Barr in 1989, later became a cult classic movie in 1994. Eric Draven and his fiancée Shelly Webster were murdered by street th...

I don't know how it happened, and I don't I'll ever understand the circumstances or graces that helped it come about. As Friedrich Nietzche said, 'Amor Fati- "Love Your Fate", which is in fact your life.'    I was told I didn't have much of one, but that was fine by me. I didn't have to travel the world and see the sights to feel a sense of accomplishment and worldliness. Books, role playing, and day dreaming opened portals to places the real world could never take me to, and I didn't have to spend thousands of dollars I would never have again to make it possible. Maybe it's because I grew up scrimping by and always lived paycheck to paycheck that made me appreciate what I had rather than seeking more. It's why the opinions of others bothered me to an extent, but I was able to brush it off at the end of the day. Besides, when we all meet the same end, it isn't going to matter where you went, the distance traveled, or the things you ...

  The crack of the fire in the hearth mingles with the gentle breeze, and the comforting heat works to drive away the chill of the afternoon. It was a day of mixed emotions, emotional hardships, and revelations that I still haven't been able to reconcile. It's these moments that makes me appreciate the friends that chose to stick around when given the option to flee.  I have always been my own worst critic and when people lash out with unkind words, I never know if they are rooted in truth or wildly blown out of proportion. Thank growing up with a narcissist. The smallest act of kindness towards yourself is seen as a slight towards them and made into a situation as large as Mount Everest. I have never been able to understand why people choose to adopt this route when talking could defuse the explosion. I know I'm not the best person in the world, and I can be difficult to have around, but I try my best.  I was writing with a friend, a role play of sorts, and was following...

Love. I never knew it could feel like this. How open, freeing, and addicting. When someone hears of the word, they picture a couple walking, hand clasped, down a street, or cuddled together at the end of a long day. They envision Valentine's Day cards exchanged, a man getting down on one knee to propose to the woman he loves, an eventual marriage with kids to follow. All of the beautiful things we read in story books, through erotica, and can view through Pinterest, Instagram, and Tik Tok reels. This love, however, can never compare to the moments between two people and weighs nothing, whereas a relationship can be fleeting and snatched away with a wandering gaze. For years I chased the idea of being in a relationship meant for two, only for those men to pass me over, gaslight, stalk, and end up ghosting me. I dealt with being trodden on and forced to make the difficult decision of whether to stay or go. My mental health was affected, and each came at a time when I had neither fami...

Rain. That most beautiful and cleansing of elements that Mother Nature provides. The world slows and crawls along to a beat that is sleepy, cathartic, and gentle. Even as thunder comes behind and echoes across the landscape, you can feel the wondrous creation that she bestows and stand in awe of her power. That lyrical voice is a melody that calls to all to listen and brings closure to another cycle.  Once upon a time I loved and dreaded the downpours. Showers meant buckets stationed between gaping holes in the roof being emptied, an increase in mold, cold pushing deep into your soul, and a weariness that kept hold until you were able to sleep or merely passed out. Newspaper was scattered across the floor to catch what the pails missed, clothes were soaked with the off-color falls, and anger was quick to catch. There was nothing for it but to continue until the end, when you fell into your bed weary, weak, and feeling as if you've walked ten miles in a downpour that threatened to p...

  When I first moved here, my heart was in my throat. Such a distance from the city and everything I'd known, plus the isolation, I worried how I might survive if something were to happen. I wasn't inept at taking care of a home. The last one I'd lived in had been a slum home and shown itself over time. The landlord didn't pay for a proper roof and parts caved in. The entire living room ceiling followed. Mold was abundant, and the rats that made themselves pretty little nests all over the property spelled out hazards. The plumbing and wiring was a joke. I learned to snake drains, clear grease clogs, work on air conditioning units, ground wires, and take care of a lawn mower.  My mother guilted me into staying, saying I had to help find her, my father, and myself get into a better one, but father didn't mind me leaving. He knew it was time and did everything to help push me out the door. Not that I resisted. I packed up my VW van and drove to a home I'd found thr...