Childhood.

Childhood
Photo Credit : Greyerbaby on Pixelbay

Daily Prompt: Restart

‘No that’s not how it’s going to be. We will not be doing that. Sit back in your seat, and be quiet, and don’t annoy your Father while he is driving.’

Another boring Sunday afternoon drive among the nature trails that she had seen soo many times before. Same old, same old. Repetitive nice conversations. It was the same scene every few weeks, after he had stopped drinking, at least for a time. Or to be truthful until the next time, and there would for sure, be a next time.
It was their joint attempt at reconciliation, after the wasted money been spent. After the hurtful words and accusations spewed at each other, with seething venom, that is when they were actually speaking. It was predictable. The alcoholic bender. The broken promises. The threats. The screaming and shouting, slamming of doors, and kitchen delf. The accusations of infidelity. The children finding their own ways to avoid, and hide from the craziness. Finding their own adventures, or trouble. Living their lives through reading, their friends and films. Anyway to keep the madness from their minds. The indulgent hedonistic lifestyle coming to a halt after a period of a month or so.
Followed by sadness, much regret, and false promises of positive change, that all knew would come to nothing eventually. The glorious and pleasant making up, until the next time. It was sickening. Truly it was.

 

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Empty

Emptiness
Photo by Peter Lewicki on Unsplash

Empty inside, is this what its like to die
A waking death, nothing more needs to be said
Barren life. Ain’t no strife, ain’t nothing going on
Aching for human company, please someone speak to me
I just can’t go on, this barren path no more
It never changes, this. Such a struggle to be alone
Always it seems on my own
Is their something wrong with me, or just a lack of opportunity
To meet with and interact with others
Could always try volunteer work, although most of those people ain’t right in the head
There seems to be a lot misaligned with them as far as I can see
Lover’s in short supply
Who knows, maybe life will seem better tomorrow
No sounds, no voices, my world is silent
People close by, but they may as well be on a different planet
As they seem so remote to me
Sorrow and self indulgent, perhaps so. But that’s what’s happening here
Of course many people are just not worth the bother
With their idiosyncrasies, and character not to my taste
But in moments of weakness, when the silence becomes unbearable
Is when my standards may lower temporarily
To allow such people in

Nothing.

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Photo by Mark Eder on Unsplash

I have nothing to say, nothing on my brain
How am I meant to entertain and engage
Those who are kind enough to view what I write, and at times, voice their appreciation
I aint mad, angry or depressed, no toxic people on my case
Nothing of any duress happening in my life
Bit dead on the romantic scene, I must admit
Would love, love, love to meet a suitable partner
To share this life’s journey with, that’s for sure
But the landscape is incredibly barren whenever I step outside the door
I looked, just looked at a woman a few months back, not a stunner, not a beaut
More out of interest I did briefly stare
She actually physically winced, when my glance caught her eye
Just cause you’re a woman, don’t necessarily mean, I want you, let me be clear
I got standards you know, which you gotta meet, or else you aint coming in the door
I watched a pretty woman coming down the street. Our eyes did meet, and she was okay
But I had watched her briefly from afar, shoulder charge some poor fella out of her way
Good looking as she was, that was so off-putting, I turned away from her enticing glance
That’s one dance that would not end well, so I aint even moving in that direction
So there’s nothing really going on, currently.

A lesson.

crative writing.ie

Photo by anja. on Unsplash.

She like the others would have to learn the hard way. Some thing in life are acceptable and some are certainly not. Her lifeless body was slumped over the back seat of the car, as it headed towards the remote mountain area. He swore at the car, and its lack of air conditioning, or even a fan. The open windows helping slightly. Perspiration dripped slowly from his forehead, down the sides of his face, and onto his neck. His short sleeved shirt, damp, clammy and uncomfortably sticky. The jeans too dark, and heavy for such weather, increasing his body temperature even further. Cursing himself for his choice of clothing on such a day. He dreamt of a cool refreshing shower, and smiled in anticipation. In the scorching heat, she had to be disposed of reasonably quickly. The bloodied seat should be easy enough to clean. Any passing motorist would just assume she was just another lazy holiday maker enjoying themselves.
A rotting and decaying body, no matter how pretty they are, soon leads to a rank, putrid stench. It was to be the holiday of a lifetime, and in some respects it was, as travel usually is quiet enjoyable. He had her fooled, and with his persuasive, and kind manner. He had hoodwinked her into travelling with him. She had foolishly trusted him. How gullible some women are, because she believed in true love. But he knew from much life experience that many people cannot be trusted at all. That humans can be immensely complex, and at times impossible to figure out. What did she really know of life at such a young age. People’s motivations, there secret desires and resentments. Who is to know the inner working of another.
He had reluctantly accepted it at the time. He had tried to dissuade her, but to little avail. She made a persuasive case for her course of action. Strong minded and belligerent to the last. He soon saw the futility of arguing further.
As he drove high into the mountains, he reflected how, if he was honest with himself, he never truly really loved her. From the first day he met her. Just something about that oh so confident, can we say arrogant manner. Something was off. With her stellar career, well on track. Arrogance, and false confidence borne out of a high flying career, with its financial rewards, and due deference and respect for her position of power within the company.
A forthright, ambitious young woman, who made no secret of her wish to succeed, at whatever price, even to the detriment of others, if need be. What are rules, if not for bending slightly, if necessary, in her view. He should have seen it then, but a lack of human companionship, can drive one to overrule their own inner knowing and wisdom.

A woman who wanted it all. The high flying career, the wealth, the success. The adoration of colleagues, and a more than satisfying sexual life. But all aspects of life carry risk. Disregard for common sense, alcohol, illicit drugs and sheer abandonment can lead to actions of course, that many regret. But what is life if not for enjoying, was her motto.
On the day she went through with it, he did not accompany her, but wished her well. He took time alone by the empty beach to gather his thoughts. He knew he would never forgive her. Regretting now he ever got involved with her, and disregarding their obvious incompatibility from the start. Over the following months, he tried to forgive her. Sought solace from God, and asked for guidance, which in the silence of the church, and the many sleepless nights that followed was not forthcoming.

Within days, she returned from her wicked journey, and soon recovered her joy de verve for life. The evenings in the expensive restaurants soon returned. Business deals had to be concluded successfully, and rapidly. Girlfriends, friends and colleagues had to be entertained and indulged. It was as if it had never happened, and it did not need to happen, but it did. His anger and resentment grew daily, but he hid it well. But it festered within him. No sense of sorrow, little regret on her part. That cavalier uncaring attitude was not what he expected, not wanted in a love partner. He reflected back to his previous marriage and the sudden and early demise of his wife, his first love. He still had to deal with the callous, and uncaring surgeon whom he rightfully blamed for her loss. He would not go free, he had determined. But that was for another time.

The heat from the setting sun was easing somewhat, as the evening grew late. He turned off the dusty road, and parked in a small clearing among the trees. He maneuvered himself out of the sweltering heat of the car’s interior, more than glad for the cooling mountain air. Stood and watched the evening lights sparkle, in the small village way down in the valley, and the ocean beyond. After a brief rest, he opened the rear door and layed her legs down on the ground. Limp and heavy, he pulled at her lifeless body, from the back seat, taking care not to look at her bloodied face, and frozen surprised expression. The body was heavy and uncooperative, so he pulled hard at the still warm legs. The back of her head hit the car door sill, with a sickening thud, bone and cartilage on metal, as he finally wrestled it from the vehicle.
The feeble, yet audible groan was an unwelcome surprize, and he looked again at her body. Little sign of movement. He bent down, and put his ear over her mouth and listened. While at the same time watching for any movement in her chest. If only the damn birds would be quiet perhaps he would have a chance to hear. It was there, a tiny, barely imperceptible weak breath, and very slight, barely visible movement of the chest.

He watched, for a few moments, hovering closely above her stricken body, reached around behind him for a suitable medium to heavy rock. He fumbled and grabbed the awkwardly edged rock in his hand and raised it above his head. He was devoid of emotion. A task had to be completed, quickly and surgically. He brought the implement down hard in an arc towards the general area of her forehead.

‘Why’, was the question she weakly asked, through her briefly opened eyes. The momentum of his movement was unstoppable, and the rock crashed with force onto her forehead. Her eyes closed. He raised it again at speed, and repeated the movement, so many times in succession he lost count. Driven by the force of his anger, and a wish to drive the last vestiges of her living image from his mind, the slab of bone’s in her forehead soon give way to his vigorous exertions. The soft brain tissue easily absorbing  the repeated strikes of the weapon. Blood streamed copiously around her eyes and down her once pretty face. A macabre mascara, befitting of such an evil human. At least it hid to some extent her torn and pulverized reddened skin, a slight benefit. Sickened and ashamed of his own uncontrollable violence and anger, he fell to his knees and called aloud to God for forgiveness. When God refused to answer with either condemnation nor praise, in his warped mind, he persuaded himself that this was indeed a sign he was doing God’s work, and a place would no doubt be set aside for him in heaven.  Exhausted and spent after a few moments, panting heavily, the perspiration again dripping from his forehead, down his face.
Again, he hovered closely over her body, watching and listening for signs of life. Satisfied there were none, he dropped the bloodied rock from his hand, and sat triumphant and vindicated, at a nearby tree. He breathing slowly began to subside from his exertions, as again he vision focused on the sparkling lights, and the ocean far beyond in the valley below. So inviting. So welcoming.

Written in response to a writing prompt seen here : https://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

The Faces of the Invisible.

MyWorldView721.Wordpess.Com

The Faces of The Invisible.

joe-keating-609658-unsplash

Photo by Joe Keating on Unsplash

He was invisible to them. Nobody noticed him, or at least pretended not to notice him. He sat like the rest of us, in the railway station waiting room, seeking refuge from the bitter cold outside. At least it was warm. We sat with our luggage, and warming tea and recently purchased, quiet expensive sandwiches.
He sat huddled with dirty track bottoms, and dirty shoes. A black anorak, with a hood covering his head, and slim frame. He had no hot tea, or sandwich. His arms folded over covering himself. Never once did he raise his head, to see what was going on around him. Never once did he ask of any of us in that waiting room for a few quid to help him out. He just sat with his eyes closed, head pointed down towards the ground, the whole time I watched him. He was no more than nineteen years old I guess.
I studied him, and the people around him, and wondered did the other travellers not even see him. Did he not exist in their minds. Was he a non entity ? Could they not see another human being obviously suffering and down on his luck. People nearby read there newspapers. Played with their expensive mobile phones. One or two of the more obnoxious travellers conducted business deals, excited, smug and self satisfied with another deal successful concluded. Oblivious to this young guy, within ten feet of them. The middle aged ladies discussing their travel plans, and the relatives they would be visiting. Some played games, caught up with emails on their tablets. Other studied the screen as it displayed and reloaded the upcoming train times. reorganising their plans. I wondered where would he go, when he would inevitably be asked to leave the shelter of the warm waiting room, and what would he do tomorrow and the next day, and the next. How had life brought him to this.
As I watched the other temporary inhabitants of that waiting room, I silently questioned their humanity. I also questioned my own, as I left the warmth of the waiting room, to catch my train without stopping to offer him help, of some description. Was it embarrassment, fear of his reaction, or did want to draw any attention to myself. What ever it was, I never figured it. Would I act differently in a similar situation again. That I could not say. I would like to think I would be more humane, but who knows.

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The Faces of The Invisible.

joe-keating-609658-unsplash

Photo by Joe Keating on Unsplash

He was invisible to them. Nobody noticed him, or at least pretended not to notice him. He sat like the rest of us, in the railway station waiting room, seeking refuge from the bitter cold outside. At least it was warm. We sat with our luggage, and warming tea and recently purchased, quiet expensive sandwiches.
He sat huddled with dirty track bottoms, and dirty shoes. A black anorak, with a hood covering his head, and slim frame. He had no hot tea, or sandwich. His arms folded over covering himself. Never once did he raise his head, to see what was going on around him. Never once did he ask of any of us in that waiting room for a few quid to help him out. He just sat with his eyes closed, head pointed down towards the ground, the whole time I watched him. He was no more than nineteen years old I guess.
I studied him, and the people around him, and wondered did the other travellers not even see him. Did he not exist in their minds. Was he a non entity ? Could they not see another human being obviously suffering and down on his luck. People nearby read there newspapers. Played with their expensive mobile phones. One or two of the more obnoxious travellers conducted business deals, excited, smug and self satisfied with another deal successful concluded. Oblivious to this young guy, within ten feet of them. The middle aged ladies discussing their travel plans, and the relatives they would be visiting. Some played games, caught up with emails on their tablets. Other studied the screen as it displayed and reloaded the upcoming train times. reorganising their plans. I wondered where would he go, when he would inevitably be asked to leave the shelter of the warm waiting room, and what would he do tomorrow and the next day, and the next. How had life brought him to this.
As I watched the other temporary inhabitants of that waiting room, I silently questioned their humanity. I also questioned my own, as I left the warmth of the waiting room, to catch my train without stopping to offer him help, of some description. Was it embarrassment, fear of his reaction, or did want to draw any attention to myself. What ever it was, I never figured it. Would I act differently in a similar situation again. That I could not say. I would like to think I would be more humane, but who knows.

Happiness.

brigitte-tohm-329286

Photo Credit :  Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

Happiness.

What makes you happy he said, it cause you ain’t dead
I lied and denied and said yes
But that wasn’t true I only said it just it’s just what you do
What makes me happy is women and swimming
From looking and staring to not even caring
Sometimes even daring to approach and engage
Hoping, but not caring that I don’t enrage and drive them insane
Swimming then is about relaxing letting go and being free
Cut loose lay back and enjoy

Laughing and singing as I am bringing the cat in
Giving and receiving with people who aint deceiving
Walking alone without my cell phone
The space to unwind my mind, the ability to see and possibly dream
Of being a man of means and wealth, without letting it go to my head

Excellent health, being able to get out of bed
Peace and tranquility to those that are close to me
Harmony with those I interact with, see
Being in silence and quietness, where I can lay with the light off
Listening to the stillness eases my mind
Where I can contemplate my life, the people who at times cause me strife
Sometimes I will forgive them if i’m feeling kind

A cup of tea, as I watch what I can see, as I study people passing by me
Taking my boots off, putting my feet up, now that to me is pleasure on earth
Reading and writing to broaden my knowledge and unleash my soul
That is a pleasure by some measure, as long as what I read and write
Don’t come across as boring and somewhat trite
Music to listen to, and to play
That can make a fellas day

Treating people kindly, gently and being right friendly
But telling others firmly, don’t take me for a fool
Don’t go breaking that golden rule, or I’ll cut you out of my life for good
Treat me right, as I will do you, then we’ll have a relationship, that’s well out of sight
Being around people who are reasonably sane, cause being around these others
Can be quiet tiresome, I’m just saying
Being in love so much, it’s like all those white doves are flying about
That seems to make you act like a fool
Breaking your own self made rules, about what you will, and will not do

Not all children are mean and unclean, some are quite happy as far as I can see
Now these kind of children are good company, with their single minded attention
There’s no need for an intervention, to take them on a course of meditation or two
As they have all that joy at just living life, wrapped up real tight
And could teach us adults a lesson or two

Being with people I can trust to be honourable to the core
That makes me happy cause then I know the score
No betrayal, no treachery here, these are attributes I hold dear
Feeling secure enough and happy within myself
So I don’t start feeling a bit strange in my head
When it looks like she may be inclined to take that fella to bed
Even though I don’t really know her, and nothing has being said
I never thought I was the envious type, when did all this come to light
Hope it’s just a phase I’m going through, to be like this full time
Now that would never do, I’ll have to work on the self esteem a bit
As I don’t want to come across as someone fragile, insecure and mean
But rest assured, I am not unclean

A nice glass of wine to make me feel fine
A can of cool beer, pleasures such as this I hold very dear
But not too often, cause my thinking goes kinda queer
I mean I could go on and on forever
About what makes me happy, if I search deep within my mind
But we could be here all day, cause I reckon I could have quite a bit to say
But I’ll leave it at that, and keep the rest under my hat
So we can at least get out of here before the evening.