Freedom.

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Photo by Nicolae Rosu on Unsplash

‘Go on, if you can dream it, you can do it.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, is that a quote from  your latest self help book.’

‘I’m only trying to be supportive on your endeavors and ambitions.’
‘Well that may be so, but save your silly positive incantations for someone who may actually be damn well interested in them’.

Another nail in her heart. Another tearing down of the relationship that was once warm and loving, but now was nothing of the sort.
She was just too nice, too pleasant. Too gentle. He had grown quiet tired of her ceaseless positivity, never ending support. The way she looked. The way she dressed. Her attitudes. Her character. Just totally sick and tired of her. A change was badly needed. Fresh blood, a new interaction. An energetic shift.

‘I’m going out for a while, no need to wait up.’

She sat alone in the darkened living room, watching but not really seeing the images flickering on the TV screen. She began to question in her mind, just what in Gods name she had to do, to make this relationship work. What she wanted most in life was a peaceful, tranquil, loving relationship. To be happy. To be in love, and be loved in return. But this was not happening for sure. She was very giving of her support, her love, her physicality, her warmth, her everything. Yet it now never seemed enough to satisfy him. She really did not want to leave him, but the never ending nastiness, caustic, cutting remarks about her weight, her looks, her abilities, her aspirations, her career. Were just becoming too much. Thoughts of suicide crossed her mind from time to time, but she had resisted up to now. Although he had encouraged her in that regard, reminding her, many times, helpfully, that no one really liked her. That she had no friends, and that she would not be missed if she decided upon that avenue. Her life, her relationship was causing her way too much unhappiness and despair. How soon would it be before his anger turned to physical violence, and would she accept that also. All in her search for the loving relationship she was seeking. She tried to understand why she was afraid to leave him. Was it, that after soo many years of verbal jibes, the cutting, destructive remarks, she no longer had the psychological strength to believe she could ever be attractive, or a worthwhile partner to any other man. He had told her on many occasions, that no other man would ever want her. After hearing such words over and ever again, she had come to believe them. To say he was a toxic individual, would be an understatement. In her occasional lighter moments she laughed silently as she concluded how he could keep psycharisitics busy for years. But those moments were few and far between.

Even those still close to her had seen, and some had commented on the change. Her family had asked her many times, how things were with him. Fine she lied. But they could see her spirit was being drained, and she was a shadow of her former self. The few girlfriends she meet secretly, so as not to anger him, could see and sense her unhappiness. But she denied it all, even to herself. Her self esteem lowered, to nearly none existent levels. Her once high self assurance disappearing bit by bit. Every day, she died a little. Day by day, under the, if not daily, but fairly regular verbal assaults. Words uttered under the guise of humour, banter, and sarcasm. But words that had a deeper, more nasty intent. Designed to hurt and destroy. To undermine and tear down. Ever fearful of another day living with him. She had tried speaking to him, but he just quickly cut her down any such communication. At this stage she was no more than a nobody. Someone who provided him with sexual release. Now an empty a pointless experience for her, which she dreaded. Devoid of love, warmth and compassion. She was more than happy when it was over, glad when he no longer touched her body,

She did not want to go back to them, but now it seemed like her only option. She wanted to move away from that lifestyle. She wanted to play life on a level playing field, with no extra advantage, and succeed by her own means, without help from them.
The cat, sensing her despair, moved from its resting place in the corner of the room, and jumped up onto her lap. The animal moved its body closer to her face, as if she wanted to embrace and comfort her. She lamely smiled and put the cat in her lap, and stroked it nonchalantly. She slowly drifted off to sleep, as the animal keep her company.

In the noisy atmosphere of the pub, the discordant music thumped loudly from the speakers. The heaving crowd moved as one to the music. Strangers bodies entangled like long term lovers. This to him was more like it. Action and energy with people not so full of love. Glad to be out of the damn house. People with a rough edge. These were the people he wanted to be around. He held the glass of beer in front of him, as he too moved to the music. Watching from the sidelines. The tight leather jackets. Some dressed in Pvc clothing. Sexual in nature.
She came and stood beside him, and brazenly asked him for a cigarette. Dark black hair, dark, black clothing, and heavy boots. With light white make up, and heavy dark eye shadow, and red lipstick, that covered her full lips. She smiled, revealing her perfectly set teeth. He took note of her body, thankful for her revealing, tight fitting clothing. He approved of her look, and offered her a cigarette.
She took the cigarette, letting her hand linger on his, and smiled. It was clear she was as attracted to him, as he was to her. He looked into her wide eyes, and she held his gaze. Just something about her confidence, made her even more attractive. He studied her lips, and moved closer. His confidence boosted by the alcohol, with no words, he moved his lips to hers. She responded. Her lips were as soft and tasteful as he had imagined. He moved his hips to hers. They stood together as one, while the music thumped loudly, they began to gyrate to the beat.

After a short time, after they both ingested more alcohol, which was effecting his vision and stability, unusual for him.
‘Come, lets go from this place’, she demanded.
‘Where to ?’
‘Come with me’. Her voice was loud, and commanding.

In the cold evening night, as other revellers noisily made their way from one drinking establishment to another, she hailed a black cab. She quietly gave the address to the driver, and helped him into the back seat. In the rain sodden night, the cab mad its way to the suburbs. He sat close to her and breathed in her scent. His imagination firing up, about the night to follow. He smiled in anticipation. Somewhat troubled by increasing sense of disorientation. But he comforted himself by expecting it to clear up once out in the fresh air.

The others began to gather in the dilapidated church. Quiet, muted murmurings barely hiding the building excitement. To any outsider, they looked so ordinary, dressed in their day to day clothing. Housewives, elderly people. Doctors, Businessmen, Consultants. But as they donned their dark robes, and began to decorate the large black altar, with the pentagram, chalice, the elements of the earth, wind, ocean and fire, and the unlit candles. The horned skeletal head. Representing the demons worshiped. An opening to that gateway. They no longer seemed innocent. Now, way more sinister.
It had being some time. But she was a good hunter, and the high priestess always knew she could be relied upon to do what was required. The black cab dropped them outside the padlocked gates of the dilapidated and run down church. The city lights, of the vast metropolis looked so inviting, from the elevated area overlooking it. She took his drunken head in her hands and gently kissed her lips. Pressing her taunt body again his, encouraging his speculation. Taking his hand, she guided him towards the church.

‘Come’, she said softy, enticing him.

He smiled foolishly, and followed her through the rusted gates, she opened with ease. From the outside, the church was covered in brambles and leaves, much of the stone work was broken and cracked. The church was darkened within. Up the gravel path they went together, she linking his arms, as he struggled to steady himself. Slightly irritated he was unable to clear his head. Agin he glanced at her well defined body, and his excitement grew. She pushed at the large oak door, that gave way easily enough. Slowly it opened, creaking as it did so. The church was empty. Dark and cold. She took his hand and lead him into the foyer cold stone paving and dark wood panelled interior, empty. They moved through a second door, into the confines of the church.

The door behind him, shut rapidly, loudly and with some force. Once inside, she broke contact with his hand, and moved to stand by the high priestess. Tall and also dressed in black. They embraced each other, and kissed each other softly on the lips. He stood, dumbfounded and watched the scene unfold before him. Rapidly coming to his senses. His disorientation now replaced by a thumping heart, shaking legs and a real sense of dread. The large number of participants busily going about what they were doing, dressed in dark robes. The dim interior, lit by large candle’s. The palatable sense of excitement, of the robed congregation. He watched in some disbelief, as bramble and broken trees were piled high, in front of the black altar. He turned away and towards the door he had entered.
The high priestess laughed as she raised her hand, and pulled him back energetically from his possible escape. She weaved her hand, as she manipulated the energy that existed between them, to forbid his escape. He danced like a pupet in response to her manipulations. She pointed her hand towards the floor, and he sank immediately to his knees, as her forceful evil energy controlled his. To ensure compliance, she formed her hand into a v shape, between thumb and index finger, held it out in front of her, and brought the fingers closely together. He grasped at his throat, trying to release the energetic pressure that was crushing his windpipe, and smothering him. She released her energy, as he fell to the floor, holding his throat. Again she laughed.

At last they had finished building the pyre, and took their seats. The chanting began. Low, monotone, but hypnotic in its flow. He was brought, struggling to stand in front of the pyre. The High Priestess stood beside him, and began to recite in Latin. Her voice took on a deep, almost manly, demonic tone. Rasping and frightening in its intensity.  She then turned to him, and spoke again in latin. The attractive woman he had met in the music pub hours earlier, translated for him.

‘Our sister has called out to the heavens, in her hour of need. She may not have wanted this, but she is one of us, and will always be. It is our belief that you must make reparations for your cruelty. We offer you as a live sacrifice to feed the demons who rule our lives, as we bow down before them, and worship them’.

The chanting became louder, rasing in volume. Reaching towards a crescendo. The perspiration began to stream down his forehead, and his back. His heart palpitating at an enormous speed. His breathing, fitful, and hard to catch. Roughly he was taken to the stretcher that lay on top of the pyre, and tied to it, with old ragged, but strong rope. He struggled as the briars and brambles beneath him were set alight. Quickly the blue and yellow flames rose up the wooden pyramid temple that held him.
She awoke many hours later, the cat having long left her lap. Now securely resting in its basket on the other side f the living room. The shone shone brightly through the light curtains, that covered the living room window. Something was different, she could sense it, or perhaps it was just the result of a good nights sleep.
But she felt clearer and more energized than she had in a long time. More light and free. With all this good energy running round her, she could not stay still and had to dissipate it some how. She set about cleaning the house from top to bottom. Not something she had done for queit some time. Happily she began to prepare dinner for her she and her partner, hoping for a better day. She knocked on the bedroom door, when the food was ready.

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

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Go Now.

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Photo by Jilbert Ebrahimi on Unsplash

Another night of drunken fighting
Can we not let some light in
Accusations and castigation’s
That don’t amount to much

Why can’t we be at peace
Why can’t all this fighting and upset cease
Will it be like this for ever more

Do you remember what you said last night
It hurt, I’m wounded, its still rumbling round inside my head
Do you even remember, can you even recall
Beating my bloodied head against the bathroom wall

I hate you now, you damn fool
I ain’t in no mood to forgive and forget
Take your belongings and get out of my head, my life
Go, cease and desist, you’ll be little missed

I curse you, never forgive you, with all of my might.

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Written in response to a writing prompt, from my newly enrolled creative writing group. The prompt being : ‘trying to piece together the night’s events’.

 

 

Gone Forever.

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Photo Credit  https://pixabay.com/en/users/johnhain-352999/

He is gone now, he ain’t coming back
What I wish I said, but it’s no use now, cause he is dead
Would I have said I loved you more, just so that you’d know the score
Would I have argued less, rather than trying to get inside, and upset your head
What’s the point of large regret, for all those words left unsaid
What’s the point of tears to shed, cause now you’re dead, you ain’t no more

You know the big secret now, of what’s beyond the sky
It’s where were all headed, on that day we die
Why did you do it, take your life like that
Why could not be strong like a lion, in the face of such abuse
Can’t you see the pain were in, as you look down from above
I’m praying to Jeasus your sending us, tons and tons of love

Dear brother I love you lots, even though you’re far away
I ache for us to meet again, so I can have my say
Tell you that I love, just the way you are
For in my mind you was ,and forever will be, that bright, everlasting star
I wish you could have been stronger, back here on planet earth
Why could not have been a fighter, a man who stood his ground

Why could you not have tougher, not the weakling you were perceived to be
But then dear brother, you can of course only be, what you can be
Had you been different with your love of poetry, and all the rest
Maybe I would not have considered you one of the very best
Don’t you worry, kiddo I knew just what you were, my intuition put me straight on that
Not that it matters, it was just the way you were
But to me , you will always and forever be that bright, everlasting star.

Bad Attitude.

Bad Attitude
Photo by Eirik Skarstein on Unsplash

She was shabby, and unkempt, and would not have looked out of place on a park bench
Her body language was unattractive, as she shuffled along
She did not look like at any time, that she might burst into song
She was pretty, it was true, and she knew it too
But with an attitude that was unkind and cruel

Now in my book, that just wont do
There are many more women waltzing along, who may be more to my liking
Desperate I ain’t. I can certainly wait, for a right one to come along
I’ve waited long enough, what’s another month or two
I’ll bide my time, and meet a good woman, and make her mine

Any sign of nonsense, an attitude that’s unkind
Good looking as she may be, it’s outside, that she will find herself
I could have made a move on her, and I suspect that maybe she would have liked that too
But I had a brief glimpse into her soul, of her rude and disrespectful attitude
Considered to myself, your out sweetie, that attitude, just wont do

I think I’ll move swiftly along, who knows, she may actually burst into song
Wish you well, but I reckon I’ll save myself, for a woman, with a better way of looking at life
A better way of treating strangers right
If your like this with strangers in a  public place
What would you be like when were alone, face to face

So I’ll leave you be, and wish you well, and swerve a possible relationship
That could have being nothing more than hell
Live to have another day of peace.

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/