I flip through my old books, looking for more of my old letters, so far I've found one to Santa, in a book about dinosaurs that I've had since kindergarten.
I find an old copy of The Bible, the same one I used to read for my Sunday school work when I was younger and still thought that people were good and that if you were good people would be too.
I find a letter to my wife in our favorite book of poetry and I wonder why she left, she never said goodbye, or that anything was wrong.
And...
The hero wheeled himself up the burning ramp with his strong, metallic arms, handled the squealing babe with remarkable tenderness, and put the small bundle in his lap before wheeling himself back through the rapidly collapsing corridor. The villain had hoped to dash the President's resolve with the death of her first born, but he hadn't counted on the 'Challenged Challenger' appearing to save the day.
His goal hadn't been so lofty. He'd only come to get his parking pass renewed, but stayed to save a life.
All in a day's work for the city's noblest hero.
"You can't stay there all day." I glanced up at my mum who was throwing open the curtains with the wild abandon of someone who's world wasn't ending.
"Moping never did anyone any good." She flung open the window.
"Come on. ..." she reached for my duvet as if to pull it away. I wrapped my fingers tighter around the edges, pulling it closer.
She rolled her eyes and gave it a harder tug.
"Mu-uuum". I complained. My voice sounding hoarse from all the crying. It had been days since I'd spoken a word.
"A shower. That's what you need....
It was the fall that surprised me the most.
I knew how it was supposed to feel. I'd been through it before. Gravity would pull me into the clutches of the wind as I silently watched you ascend the sky of my esteem, shining bright. I let everything rush by me. I knew that, though I was drawing warmth from you, you would be just as the sun, emitting light without focusing on me.
I'd been through it before. I thought I was supposed to cross my arms and let my head hang back as it consumed me.
But it...
It was late, one winter night. I was not accustomed to being awake at this hour. My car didn't handle the cold well, and neither did I. The AC had broken two hours into this odyssey. The frost crept in. I drove on.
My satnav, my electronic guide, my only companion on that awful night, took me down the country roads. I was not familiar with them. They were not familiar with me. I was not welcomed. They twisted and turned, disorienting me. I slowed down, taking a turn onto a particularly ice-covered road. My headlights flooded the path with...
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
Oh look at the house. It has snow on the roof. Santa will be mad. How is he supposed to get down the chimney if there's snow on the roof. Wait a minute. There's no chimney. Guess Santa will have to break into the house instead.
But gol, I think we should make sure all the roofs are clear of snow for Christmas Eve. I mean, them reindeer can't enjoy snow all that much.
So anyway, Santa Claus has a disease that makes his hair fall out. He kind of looks like this: O But he has a head on...
A girl with caramel eyes. That's all I know about her. She's a girl with caramel eyes. I wonder, vaguely, what shade of caramel: I murdered someone in a sweets factory once. There were so many different shades of caramel. Brown, dripping, honey sticky and sweet. Caramel is a wide field. I hope there is time to paly with her before she dies. That's the best part, playing with them. I want to watch her eyes widen as she watches me trace a knife around her throat. Maybe, if she's not a fat lump, I'll even kiss her. Not soft,...
Fault. It is so common a word. Used by so many to allay the suspicion that they are truly the ones responsible. And who am I? I am no different.
My leg moved as if in a dream, gliding through time and space like it was made of water, no jelly, no gravity. It moved, ever so slowly towards a destination that I couldn't help but be brought to. Call it fate, call it fault call it whatever you will but in the end that is where I ended up. One foot in the street and another on the sidewalk....
When I was younger, I remember all of the pressure that was placed on me to be good enough.
The training that I had to endure, to get where I am today. At the top of my game.
But I keep asking myself? "Is this really what I want? Am I'm living for myself, or for others?"
I turned the medallion in my hands as I thought of how all I wanted to do was to make them proud! My parents, and my coach.
But now that's in the past.
Now I realize that what I want, and what they...