Paradoxically Strange

He’s laid by the water his head propped on his rucksack. In front of him is time behind him only chaos.

He looks up at the cloud scattered sky and thinks some deep thinks. What has been. What is. What could be. Ahh, if only, eh?

People walk past on their (merry?) way. On their life path not knowing what’s coming. Mediocracy? Fame? Fortune? Even death for some. One of life’s 2 constants. Death. And change.

The sun slips behind a cloud and a cool breeze runs around him. He lays. And he thinks.

Where does time go? Where does our life go? We get older, some wiser, some not. Some learn from mistakes while others repeat them. Addiction? Perhaps. Some make new mistakes. Where do the young versions of us go? Or the versions of us that take that other direction on life’s road of choice.

He thinks they are all out there in some other reality.

What about this reality? Does this one suck? Is this on of the dark places, one of those realities that we would want to shy away from? Sometimes, definately. But not others. Some have said to him that life is generally bad with good bits thrown in to keep him going. Cloudy with scattered sunny intervals.

Is that really the case, he thinks? If it is, what’s the point? Why bother? If the bad outweighs the good, then why? He isn’t sure if it is or not.

He lies there on the water bank and tries to find some calm. Anxiety has a hold of him today, his stomach churning and flipping. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, thinks of someone as he breathes in, breathes out. Breathes in, breathes out. There are thousands of thoughts spinning round his mind and he tries to grab one, just one to focus on but it’s gone, away in the jumble.

He opens his eyes and looks up – a bird flies overhead high in the sky. He wonders what it would be like to be up there, truly free riding the air currents. He’s a little jealous.

He closes his eyes again and tries to find some calm.

Tags: Writing

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In the bright sunshine the dark place seems so far away. I can hear a faint gurgle of water. Birds sing their love songs to each other. Sunshine comes down from the heavans lighting and warming the floor. Even the flies and insects dance their everlasting dance. All seems well. A family goes past – mum, dad and your standard little boy and little girl “push me faster daddy” shouts the little girl but her bike with stableisers doesn’t like the cart path they are on. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. So still he can almost hear every lub and dub of his heart.

But.

He knows it’s still there. Just that single heartbeat away. All the time the constant prod of that other reality. Watching. Waiting. In the blink of an eye it could reach out and SNAP him over there.

Would he dissapear from here? He doesn’t think so but what would be left but an empty husk of a man (ha! What difference from now he muses!).

Even in the sun. In the beauty of the beholders eye. It’s there.

Be careful.

It’s waiting for us all.

Tags: Writing

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Do you think there are other places? Good other places and bad other places?

I do. I’ve seen them. In the dark, quietest part of the night there are whispers, fleeting glances of them. In the twightlight it might be easy to slip into them as the gap between these places is the thinnest, the fabric of the barriers that stop the cross-overs becoming a flood is the weakest.

In the good places your heart lifts. All of the good times in your life that have been (and hey, you get a very good other place and you might even be able to glance or intuit good times ahead) are there to soak up again. The happy places that mean so much can be revisited. The smiles from special people, the touches, this kisses, the joy of just being alive. Remember the time when you felt so alive, were surrounded by so much god-damned muther-smucking life and energy that you felt like you could burst? Its there waiting to give you a little lift.

But you have to be careful.

Sometimes I think there is something stalking me, waiting, looking for me – perhaps ready to pounce if there is a stumble. In the deepest part of the night when all is still its almost as if I can hear a shuffling, a creeping sound right on the edge of perception. Ever look in a mirror and catch movement from behind but when you turn its gone? Every see something weird from the corner of your eye? Smell a funny smell that you can’t explain, an old, dirty, BAD smell?

Now that is not good. There’s some weird bad assed shit out there my friends. And some of this is a problem that even the A-Team can’t fix with some cheap semtex and a cut down drainpipe.

There are dark, bad places…or even the good places in the night, when the sun goes down. The things that you see but aren’t there? This is where they come from. They can cross over when they are ready to come and getcha. You better believe that one, baby! Take it to the bank with interest! You have a particularly bad moment, and wham, there they are and you have a hell of a battle to get rid of them or outrun them. They might not even be looking for you but if your resolve drops too low they don’t have to be…they JUST KNOW!

And once they’ve seen you the first time, sensed your vulnerabilities, got a whiff of that fear that hangs around you…oh brothers and sisters, they are there for all time.

 Here’s a good one – every met someone in the street, passed a ‘Hi, how ya doin?’ but when you turn a moment later, that person’s gone? I have. Someone helped me a few weeks ago just when I needed it the most. Just when I was sat thinking ‘what the smuck and I gonna do now to sort this out?’ Along came a big strong helper and gave me a lift – there was no reason for them to be there at all, they just came, helped and went. But did I dare turn and look to see if I could still see them? No sir! I dare not! I didn’t want to know! The help was gratefully received just at the right moment in time and space. I wonder…why were they there just then? And then gone again? Perhaps I shouldn’ty question.

But where did they go? TO ONE OF THESE OTHER PLACES I WILL WAGER! Good and bad places. Good and bad people. Good and bad THINGS.

Sometimes we are very close to these other places. Sometimes we can reach out and just cross over. That’s a scary place to be. When the other places are so close we can close our eyes and just move-shift across. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and think of a good place. Can you smell the smells? Feel the feels? Are you there? In the darkest part of the night, you’d better be careful – you just might end up there…but then again, you just might end up somewhere else…

Tags: Writing

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