How the Ocean Waves

It was the warmest day on the Island that we could remember. We decided it would be a perfect girls beach day.

I packed up my things in my new carmel colored knit soulder bag, wrapped myself in my signature green towl, and we were on our way.
We found a careful little cove where only locals went. The beach and the city streets were separated by a rock wall with etchings and love symbols lightly drawn over them. We dropped our bags and towels and headed for the water. While adjusting to the temperature of the water we started talking about 'Ohio Bombs' where you run into the ocean and cannonball over a large wave.

"Won't we go straight to the bottom and hit the sand" I asked.

"How are you supposed to run in the water?" Another girl wondered

I went a little further into the water.

"You know, the water is actually pretty warm today.....Let's try it!"

We ran up to the shore like little girls and started doing Ohio Bombs into the ocean. The waves crashed higher and higher and you could almost hear the inner child in our high pitched squeals.

Then the waves started swelling higher and it became a longer commute back to the sandy shore. A large wave hit the shore and rushed to our bags. The water quickly drug all our towels and bags into the salty ocean. We scrambled trying to retrieve our stuff before it went out too far. All I could think about was my brand new light colored bag now salted and dirty, and possibly a damaged cell phone.

We gathered our belongings and were smacked in the back with another large wave.

"The waves are getting pretty high, I think we should maybe go" One girl mentioned.

We all nodded in agreement, secured our things, and started walking down the beach to a safe place to climb. The waves kept growing, leaving us little to no room to walk.

"We have to climb now" I said as we looked up the steep rock wall that we would have to climb. We saw a medical crew rushing to a girl who was laying in the water against the rocks, waves rolling over her body like they owned her. I froze in shock of how serious this situation just got. The paramedic looked up and screamed at us to get out of here.

We started scrambling up the rocks, slipping on every other step because our bodies and the rocks were drenched. Waves were crashing harder now, slamming us into the sharp rocks. I dropped my green towel and watched it get swept away instantly by the salty monster. We didn't speak a word through the whole climb. It was hard enough to breathe knowing that if you slipped, that was it.

After what seemed like eternity, my fingers were bleeding and it felt like it was raining. I knew instantly that this was the hardest thing I had ever done. I found a good rock to cling to and rested for a moment. I looked around me to see the other girls struggling too, but I had to look away. I closed my eyes, and through the sting of the waves on the back of my legs I thought about all the things I would miss if I didn't make it through this. I thought about the girl laying in the water and the limited time they had to rescue her. She was not as lucky. Not as lucky as me, drenched in salt water literally clingy to a rock for dear life.

"C'mon, lets go!" I heard one of my friends call out.

I gathered all my strength and pulled myself away from the comfortable rock. I wanted to stay with that rock forever, wait until someone rescued me. But I knew I couldn't hold on that long. I looked for other rocks to pull myself onto but they were too small to grip. "This is it" I thought. My fingers were numb. I noticed how the water went from warm and comforting to cold and scary in a matter of moments.
Then a rope slapped against the rocks, inches away from my face.

"Grab on" I heard a young man's voice call out.

Without hesitation I poured all my weight onto the rope. Not even questioning if they had it tied off or not. I used my feet to shimmy up the rocks, and was pulled to the top by a team of guys. They weren't in uniform, just helping out. I looked and saw my friends were up too. Then I collapsed. I couldn't move a single muscle in my body.

Eventually I felt myself get picked up and put on a stretcher. I managed to roll my head to the side and look out into the ocean blue. The waves crashed and water shot over the rocks. I smiled because it was still beautiful.

The Reunion

I was riding up the winding road in the old tattered white and blue taxi. The clouds were thick and heavy and it had been consistently raining for two hours. My stomach was fluttered with nervousness and excitement at the same time. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the last time I saw him. I could remember the circumstances and place but time had faded away the details.

We pulled up to the hospice center at which he worked. It was dim and grey and alone on top of the hill. I paid the driver his expensive fare, and tipped him kindly for the quiet ride. Some days I feel like people never stop talking. Today was not one of those days. I walked up to the front door of the center and paused in the rain for a moment before entering. Why exactly was I here? I had traveled over a thousand miles to see him, but why? I pulled open the door before my thoughts over-cluttered my mind.


I saw him right away. He was helping an elderly man out of a large rocking chair. His body was much broader, and his stature much taller than the last time I saw him, when we were fifteen. He had tattoos on his arms and his hair was long. My stomach twisted in knots, and then he saw me. He looked me directly in the eyes and smiled. His smile light and unsure. It was his same smile. He continued helping the man into a wheel chair and pushed him down the hall way. He walked back down the hallway and put his arms around me. Despite his clammy hands, his embrace was warm and satisfying. He mentioned a few things he had to finish up real quick, and vanished back down the hall way. 


I walked around the sitting room and made my way towards the coffee table. There were old gardening and family magazines spread all over the table along with a few books. There was Huck Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, A couple books so old that the titles were worn off, a Bible, and two identical books in a red basic cover. I rolled one of the red books over in my hands, feeling the texture of the cardboard binding. I opened the cover to see the author. It was him. He had written a book. He had written a book?? My heart started beating a hundred miles a minute. I wildly thumbed through the pages desperate to know what he had written about. What could he have written about?? I wondered for a brief moment if he had mentioned me, but I knew our time together was too short to be significant enough for a novel. 

"He mentioned you, ya know" A soft voice from the back of the room spoke.


I froze, captured by the irony in her statement and the familiarity in her voice. I looked up to see her frail body swallowed by a cotton nightgown. Her hair as short as ever, wirey and gray. She was smoking a cigarette which I was sure was not allowed.
His mother. 
She was living in the home. No wonder he worked there. 


"No matter the time in his life, he always found a way to bring you into conversation. And when he was quiet, I know he was thinking of you" she spoke again. I noticed how cracked and harsh her voice had become. I tried to count the years since I had last seen her. 


"What is it about?" I asked still caressing the cover of the book. 


"His trials." She said looking away. "I couldn't always be there for him. He had some rough times." 


I flipped to the middle of the book and read. The words were dark and frail, yet familiar. He wrote of death, and deep thoughts, and times he thought he wouldn't survive. I flipped though more pages and found segments of letters I had written him. Letters that he held on to through the tough times. Was this why I was here?


"His trials" I whispered to myself. His trials that I wasn't there for. His trials that I knew nothing about. I thought of all the lost time between now and our last reunion. I thought of all the things that happened in my average to up-beat life since I last saw him. I thought of all the horrible things he could have went through alone.


He walked around the corner and saw me holding his book. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. He ran to me and put his arm around my shoulder.

"Are you angry at me?" he asked in his light insecure voice. 


It took me a minute before I could answer. Swallowing the hurt, and tears felt impossible. 


"No" I finally mumbled. "I'm proud of you".


We spent the rest of the evening talking and reading together. Many tears were shed in that poorly lit hospice family room. I was amazed at how, after years apart, we fell right back into our old routines. Like we just saw each other last week, and the previous weeks of our entire lives. I wondered what our lives would be like if he never left. 
And the wonder would always remain. 

8.13.11

The Gang

If being on the run is stressful enough, try being on the run in a foreign country.


We were scaling the icy roads of Russia. Climbing walls and running across rooftops with our new gang. We had been training for this for a life time. It was like we were closer with our primates, the monkeys. No one was faster or more acrobatic than our crew.

But guns were stolen, and threats were exchanged, and the enemy was after us.


They were stronger than we were, but if we kept running, they would never catch up.


We panicked trying to keep our whole crew together. The slower ones got left behind. Our fingers were battered from constantly climbing in the 20 degree temperatures. We grew accustomed to barrel fires in alley ways with plenty of ways to escape if shit went bad.


We were always on our toes.


On our longest journey, the enemy chased us as far as the mountains. We climbed and hiked with little food and protection. Frost bite set in, but there was no going back. We arranged for a chopper to pick us up on the North side of the mountains. Jamie was the flyer; she was no expert, but she was the best we had. She picked us up with them on our heels. With Jamie's poor flying skills, and a broken helicopter, we couldn't fly too far. She dropped us off on an island off of Russia. It was sandy and warm compared to Russia, but we had no idea where we were.


We walked into some local shops to get some food and possibly a change of clothes. There were foreign fruits and snacks that we had never head of. The people were looking at us strangely so we, like always, moved quickly.


We noticed large vehicles loaded with men with guns pulling out of nowhere. We had to escape. Not knowing where we were, we ran frantically sand flying in every direction. The extreme temerpature changes seemed to mess with our heads, leaving us delirious and confused. We found ourselves trapped by high fences with barbed wire on one side, and the armed men on the other. We put our palms to the air knowing it was over. Every man had their gun cocked and ready aiming at our hearts.  One mad yelled at us in a unknown language, but then he said in Russian: Вы никогда не можете побежать достаточно быстро.

You can never run fast enough.

7.5.11
Influences
I have been watching shows with "gangs" in them lately
?

Maddie's Revolver

I was sitting in the passenger side of my car. My mom was drive all of us home from lunch and I could feel the revolver burning through the glove box. Images of that night quickly flashed through my mind causing me to scrunch my eyes tight together and flinch. 


"What's wrong?" my mother asked, concerned. I stared blankly forward for a moment before I responded. 


"Guys" I said "I think I should tell you what really happened last August"


"What are you talking about?" my dad asked peering up from the back seat. 


"You know, the night I went up to the cinder pits?" mother let out a sigh of disappointment "Thats not all that happened that day"


I closed my eyes and I flashed back to that day.

Today was the day that Maddie died........ but I didn't know that yet. 


I was walking to the snack shack to meet her after school. I knew she wouldn't get there until after me because she always stayed in her last period, art class, with Miss Linda to help her clean up for a bit. On the walk over I planned an epic way to scare her. I would hide behind the door and look out the side window. When I saw Maddie walk in the door I would grab her and startle her, maybe causing her to pee her pants to something hilarious like that. 


I came up to the snack shack and noticed it was a bit quieter than usual. I walked inside and closed the door behind me. I looked around to a silent building. Not a single person was in site, not even the counter workers. Before I could justify just how eerie it was, a bullet flew past my head and through the wall. I ducked and looked to find a young boy, maybe 14 or 15, shakily pointing a small revolver at me. I ducked behind a wall and hid behind the blue couch in the lounging area of the building. I heard the revolver go off again. 


He came closer to me and aimed the gun. I begged him not to shoot. I could tell he didn't want to shoot me, but at this point it was his only choice. He shot again and I dove under the wide framed couch clinging to the sides, trying to stick to the top of the couch like they do in the movies. I heard him on top of the couch and saw the gun reach around and point towards me under the couch. He wasn't even looking at me his hand was very unsteady. I wondered if he was intoxicated or in shock. I noticed his loose and lazy grip on the gun and made a move for it. I snatched the gun out of his hand and slid out from under the couch. I fumbled with the gun for a second trying to cock it, wishing for a split second that I had gone shooting with my dad more often when he had asked me to. 


I managed to cock the gun and pointed it at the guy who was now sitting in the fetal position on the couch. I pointed the gun at him so hard I could feel a twinge of pain in my elbow, but it didn't matter. My body broke out in a sweat and I could see the fear and anger raging together in his eyes. 


I bolted for the door.

"Wait wait wait" My dad chuckled "This didn't really happen. What are you talking about?" 


Annoyed I flung open the glove box and held up the gun. Mom swerved a bit and screamed at me to 'put that down'. I cocked the hammer and slid my fingers along the chamber making is spin, memorized by it's smoothness. 


"Do you believe me now? Can I continue?" I asked. They were silent in return.  

I swung open the door and ran out into the street. I was running as fast as I had ever ran, trying to flag down someone to help. I looked behind me and saw the guy running at me faster than I could imagine, dodging cars and trash. I pointed the gun behind me, and half way running and looking I shot. I kept running without looking back and flagged down the next car I saw. It was my best friend Rachel and our friend Lonnie. I flung myself in the back seat and yelled at them to drive away. I looked at the guy as we drove away, he was on the ground clutching his arm. Sheer panic bubbled underneath my skin.


"What the hell is going on?!" Rachel screamed once we were turning onto the next street. 


"Just drive somewhere far away and I'll tell you" I muttered catching my breathe. I was halfway on the seat and on the floor. The gun in my hand felt warm and smelt like sulfur. I dropped it to the floor of the car. 


We drove up to the cinder pit and parked. The sun was setting now and I told them everything. I showed them the gun, and together we swore not to say a word to anyone as we emptied the rest of the bullets into the dust. Police lights blurred up the dirt road towards our car. I  was sure they were going to haul me off for shooting some 14 year old kid. 


The police man knocked on Rachel's window. She rolled it down and he informed us that they were investigating for a missing girl, and we had to leave the premises. 


Rachel dropped me off at my car at school. I threw the gun in the glove box and drove home. 


Early the next morning we got the call that Maddie had been kidnapped, rapped and murdered, and her body was found abandoned in the woods. The police interviewed all her closest friends to find any clues as to what had happened. I told them that I walked home after school, and then went up to the cinder pits with my friends later that evening. The police man confirmed that were were there and I was grounded for a week for going up there without permission. 

At the time, I didn't think that Maddie's murder had anything to do with the man that attacked me.


But now I'm thinking I should have told the police what really happened. 

5.14.11

Influences:

Maddie was a friend of mine that passed away suddenly from a brain tumor, my freshmen year of high school.

A young girl in the town I live in was recently kidnapped, rapped and murdered. Her death affected a lot of the people I work with. 

I have never fired a revolver. 

Remember: None of this is real, this was a dream I had in short story format. 

The Peppermint Wind

In my tan leather lace up boots I stood and looked at my new home.
How could it have come to this? I never even imagined my life coming to this point.

I walked over to our "house", the sand crunching underneath my feet. The dusty wind blowing sand into my eyes. I sat down under the extend tarp, peered out past the desert sun, and thought about all the things we had lost.
Our home.
Our city.
Our dog.
Our hope.

I looked at each family, just living day to day in their white trash best-we-can-do huts, cooking pheasants and lizards over open fires.

Sand started to inch down my shorts and I thought about how life would be now. Now that the world was crumbling into an abyss. No more stores, grass, or flowers. No more peaceful walks on the beach, or nights in that cozy bar.

My thoughts were interrupted by an image far away. It was large, and quickly heading our way.

A tornado.

Sheer panic came over the families. All of a sudden the little man-made shack of tarps, bricks and boxes that was just seconds ago thought of a pile of trash, was now my home and only means of protection from the harsh sun. And it was about to be destroyed.

All of a sudden this insignificant lousy life that I was living, was more valuable than I could ever imagine.

Everyone ran through the empty canyon looking for a structure that might somewhat shield them from the twister headed our way.
I ran towards a large boulder that had a sort of cave-like-feel with a small ledge, and I held on for dear life. Watching the tornado come closer and closer at a raging speed, I decided I could watch no longer and turned my head.
Just as I looked in the opposite direction, I saw another tornado coming our way. We were being sandwiched between two natural disasters, and there was no nope.
I clung to the rock. My body, sweating from the panic, was surprisingly relaxed by the cool mineraly nature of the rock. It started to pour musky rain.

I closed my eyes to see pitch black, but memories flooded my vision. Images of my childhood, the ocean, my family, and my work flew through my mind like I was flipping through an open book. But then everything went black, and I could only hear one thing:

"There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.


Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.


Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends"

I took a deep breath and wished, I could cool in the peppermint wind once again. 

5.12.11

No current ideas that may have triggered this dream.

Poem by Shel Silverstein "Where the Sidewalk Ends"

The Dusty Taverns

I pulled on my "old" jeans with the hole in the right knee. I put on two sports bra's, and covered them with a warn out college t-shirt. I had been looking forward to a trip like this for years. There use to be this desire I used to always get to be scared. I was always searching for something scary or thrilling, I loved the feeling it sent surging through my body. I would seek it almost any place I went. I guess I have changed in that sense. 


I dove into the old dusty chest at the foot of our bed and pulled out the jug shaped flashlight. It clicked on like the batteries were brand new.


I pulled on my knee high socks, criss-cross laced up my boots, and headed out the door. I was off to meet my parents at the Dusty Taverns. 

The Dusty Taverns were a new cave in North East Arizona that had just opened up to hikers. My family and our unexperienced hiking skills were going to dive in head first. We stopped at the convenience store near by and bought a map and an "I survived the Dusty Taverns" magnet, even though we hand't yet. I had heard rumors that the Dusty Taverns were still haunted, Miners in the 1700's were apparently trapped and never found. On an ordinary day this would have thrilled me, but not the new me, today just felt different. 


We ventured down into the wide and smelly cave. I instantly saw why they called it the "dusty" taverns, everything you touched seemed to poof out dust. The further we hiked down, the skinnier the cave got. We even came to a place you had to crawl to get through. 


Once my my mother was flat on her stomach crawling through a space, my father squeezing between two rocks, and I was left stuck in a corner staring at a rather dark cubbie hole directly above me, we questioned what we were doing. 
"What if this hike is a little too advanced" My dad mentioned
"Yeah, maybe we don't have enough gear with us" Mom chimed in




"Maybe.......and maybe it's really haunted" I suggested


They both looked at me like I had just took a drag from the peace pipe. From their annoyed eyes, to their exhausted expression. But then I watched both of their faces change in unison. Their mouths drooped down, their eyes widened, and their heads fell slightly forward like they had to catch themselves. There was obviously something behind me that was mind blowing. 


I turned to see a large black and gray blur speeding towards us. We tried to run, but were stopped by the cave's jagged walls. Before we knew it, our flashlights were on the ground and we were under a group of hysterical people. They will thrashing around in the dark screaming and and clinging to us like koala bears. We tried to get to them explain what was going on, but the only thing they communicated was panic. 


We exited the cave as quickly as possible, hearing unexplainable noises and eerie crashes the entire time. Once we reached solid ground, we ran to the nearest shelter possible, a dark hotel. I couldn't help but notice everyone in the parking lot, calm as ever, looking at us like we were crazy. Were we crazy? 


We walked into the large lobby and instantly searched for a restroom, splitting up, like we were overly excited children in a theme park. Landon, a guy from the group that had run into us, ran with me down a long hallway to the right. We were running for what seemed like half of a mile before we slowed down. 


"Longest hallway ever" Landon said 
"Seriously" I replied "And it is so strange too, the doors keep getting further and further apart" 


As we kept walking, coming across a door was becoming a slim shot. We decided to stop and go back. We turned around and saw a man running at us. He was carrying an ax, and was torn up and bloody. He was moving so quickly, it was surreal. Almost like he wasn't even human. I was instantly convinced that he was a ghost. We started to franticly run away from them, but they were burning our heels. They sounded so close it was as if they were inside me. In sheer panic I ducked down, covered my head and screamed "Help!". 


A fraction of a second later, I looked up to the sound of a gun shot. A man at the end of the hall was leaning outside the last door on the right, holding a small pistol. He had shot through the guy chasing us, who had managed to get ahead of us, and into Landon's chest. I screamed and fell to Landon's side; he was already unconscious. I cried and screamed into his lifeless body as if I had known him for years. I felt like I had. Everything was so different now. 


The man who was chasing us picked himself up and walked back up the hall changing forms and making ridiculous groaning sounds. But I didn't care about him anymore, whatever he was. I glanced back down the hallway to scold the man who did this, maybe turn his made-for-killing-humans pistol on him and see how he likes it. 
But he wasn't there.
In fact, the door wasn't even there either.  

4.27.11

Influences:

no clue

Just off of Chile

I knew, when I was standing on the stern of Old Cline in my peach colored, too-tight-to-breathe-in corset, that this trip was going to be different. Something about the way the wind was blowing my loose bangs against my cheeks and splashing the water onto the deck made me feel a little too unbalanced. I felt a surge of pure excitement and utter fear simultaneously pulse through my veins like ice arrows. Life was mixing something together that we were sure to experience in short time.


It wasn't long before we were shipwrecked on a dry island that was said to be "just 1000 strides off of Chile". I awoke to disaster. The ship had gone from rocking us to sleep after wine and supper, to throwing us on the sand in what seemed a matter of moments. With the sun quickly sinking into the ocean, I knew we had to act quickly.

"We need to start a fire!" I blurted out.


Normally I would have been punished for talking without being spoken too, but these were rational times. Everyone seemed to nod and search for wood pieces without a fuss.


Onces the flames were roaring and and we were settled in the sand, the panic started to sink in. How would we get off the island? How would we contact anyone? The flares were surely sunk at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of the ship.


"Look over there" A young lady in her twenties shouted while pointed across the island. I didn't know her name, no one knew names. I only knew Sally.


We looked across the island and spotted another large roaring fire with dark, thick smoke. Darker than the smoke released from our own flames. 


"There are others on the island" I spoke "We shall seek them out tomorrow". 


And we all nestled in the sand to sleep till morning. I watched as the embers slowly burned down to nothing and I felt a chill lightly touching my back. 


We woke with the sun and flying arrows. We were being attacked. In a sleepy haze we stumbled our way towards protection in a ditch with a dead tree that looked as thought it were struck by lightning. Three large men with dark skin dressed in scraps of animal fur came over and tried to take a few of our people. Everyone started to yell and scream and chaos was in full force. More people from the other side of the island were running over, guns that were retrieved from the shipwreck were fired, knives were thrown. It was a complete war started in a matter of minutes without a single word exchanged. 


I ran and hid behind a large brush. Once behind the brush I saw a little girl. A young girl with the dark brown skin clutching what seemed to be journal. She was frightened at the sight of me, but I quickly reassured her I meant no harm. She replied to me in English, and explained that her and her people had been on the island for a few years. She told me they were shipwrecked, and they had just discovered a way to get off the island. She also explained that her people thought our people would try to steal their equipment and ruin their plans. 


She showed me her journal that she put together herself. It was full of the plans and adventures that had gone on at the island written in English. She was the only one of her people who knew the language, she just started to learn it in school. 


We both went back to our people, to try and explain the misunderstanding. I might work better if we could help each other out. But neither would listen to us, and the other people sent the little girl back to gather me. 


"They sent me here to bring you to them. They think you are trouble and they want to kill you." she said to me "If I don't bring you back with me, they will think I shamed them. I don't know what they would do to me."


I was in shock. The human race will continue the war against itself until the end of time.


"I will give you my journal, if you will come with me" she said


I thought about the situation for a moment and looked over at the people I had wrecked with. They were searching the island for any means to escape. They looked broken and desperate and bruised. 


"I'll do it" I said to her knowing the sacrifice was necessary. She gave me the journal and a light and shameful nod. "I'll be right back" I said. 


I took the journal to Sally and placed it in her hands. 


"Everything you need to know to get off this island is in here" I said "I have to go now"


Sally looked at me with sad but thankful eyes. As I walked towards the little girl, Sally gathered everyone up to go over the journal. 


Walking to the other side of the island with the little girl was a silent trip. The sand squished through my toes as I walked my peaceful green mile. When I reached their side, I realized just how long they had been here. Small huts of shelter were built along with a cooking area with a large man-made pot. The people tied my hands up and blindfolded me and walked me outside near the pot. A slight breeze blew on my face like the one on the stern of the ship and I could smell the Chilean bellflower. I knew this trip would be different, and I knew I made the right decision. 

3.24.11

Influences:

Cline is the name of the library where I went to college

Sally is a co-worker of mine

Chile- all the disasters going on around the world? 

Little girl-thinking about when I was teaching

Welcome

Follow me through my nightly dreams written as short stories. 

All the stories posted are based off of my real dreams, along with the date the dream occurred, and possible influences. 

The dreams could range from funny to sad to violent to confusing......

.......always keeping you wondering what the next story holds.

Welcome to my Journey

i will see you in my dreams

3.27.11