Denver Thrasher

Just a creative outlet. Open to feedback. Oh, and fun fact, I share a birthday with Edger Allan Poe.

Denver Thrasher

Just a creative outlet. Open to feedback. Oh, and fun fact, I share a birthday with Edger Allan Poe.

Journal Of An Old Man Who Might Never Get His Powers

Denver Thrasher

9 min read

Journal Entry 1 February 5th 2011 Hello Maurice. Maurice M Thomas. That’s your full name in case you’ve forgotten. Today is my 72nd birthday… and .. not quite a gift, but Martha came by my apartment today to bring me some of those mighty tasty cookies from the bakery on McCart St, and say a quick happy birthday. But when I opened the door she gasped and dropped them all over the floor goodness me. After sweeping up the crumbs I saw to it that Martha had a seat and a good glass of ice water. It was then that she told me the.. news. “You’re in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s Maurice” at first I laughed but then I saw Martha’s face.. it was the same face she made when I had delivered the news that Fank had been killed right before he was set to leave Vietnam. “Are you sure” I asked. Holding onto any hope that she had been mistaken. “Maurice.. ever since I moved away from home all those years ago I’ve been able to feel these… feelings.. these, quick bursts of information when I look at someone.. I’m so sorry Maurice.” I know we sat there for another hour or two just chatting but.. all I remember after that conversation was her leaving. Not because I forgot, I just… was in shock. For now on I’ll log my thoughts in this journal so that I may be able to help me in a few days, weeks, months, and years from now to stay collected and informed.. if I even have that much time left.. Journal Entry 2 March 12th 2012 Yes it’s true. Doctor Himsbrow confirmed that I have early stage Alzheimer’s. In his painfully cheerful voice he informed me of all the actions I could take moving forward and various procedures I could look into and so on. All the while he filled out paperwork with his mind as floating pens signed floating medical papers. “You know, don’t look at this as such a bad thing Maurice. Because you never got your powers this makes treatments much more promising. We don’t have to do any tests to see if your powers will interfere with medical Practices, or charge you more on your medical bills because we had to use super skin compatible needles. And every day I hear about some new found superpower allowing for more breakthroughs in biology and preserving health, so I’m sure this will all work out in the end.” We exchanged a few more words and then I made my way back home. And now I’m writing this all in my journal. Truth is.. I’m terribly afraid. Somehow I know that things won’t work themselves out.. and I can already feel this.. overwhelming nothingness creeping in. Journal Entry 3 July 4th 2011 The residential neighborhood across the street are doing their fireworks again this year. Even though they know it’s a restricted area for fireworks. I’ll have to email a formal complaint to the city tomorrow so that they can make the rules more clear for next year. Of course now I’ll have to put a reminder on one of my sticky notes so that I don’t forget. My working memory is killing me these days. Seems like every turn I take in my apparent I’m met with another bright yellow sticky note reminding me of something. This morning I found a sticky note on the fridge reminding me to cancel plans with Susan due to a doctors visit. But when I called Susan she made it sound like i had already told her I had to cancel. She said it as if she were talking to a dog foaming in the mouth while holding a shotgun behind her back “Maurice.. darling.. have you given any more thought into moving in at your daughters house? Nichole. I was talking to her just the other day, and she said she be more than happy to materialize another floor to her house just for you. It would be arranged just like where you live now, and you’d still be on your own.. she’d just be closer to you in the case of an emergency..” I’m not like some animal that needs to be put down. I just forget small things here and there. I’m perfectly fine. Journal Entry 4 July 6th 2011 The neighbors keep shooting off those damn fireworks! This blatant disregard for the rules may have been somewhat understandable on the fourth, but now this is just ridiculous. Why don’t we all just break the rules now. Let’s run red lights, and copy our friends VHS tapes before returning them to Blockbuster! These idiots have zero respect for the rules as they’ve been laid out and I won’t have it. I called the mayor himself to complain about the behavior from across the street and he too must be in on the foolishness! “Mister Thomas, I’m sorry but.. Fourth of July was two months ago.. and there have been no other noise complaints from anyone regarding late night fireworks. Perhaps another resident from your apartment has been playing their TV too loud at night? Or perhaps it’s just the sounds of the street from bellow your apartment building?” I can’t believe that the mayor could be so blind to what’s going on in his city. I know what I heard. Journal Entry 5 September 13th 2011 Auditory Hallucinations. That’s what Dr.Himsbrow says is causing me to hear fireworks in the middle of September. And of course, he says Alzheimer’s is what’s causing me to believe it’s still July 6th instead of September 13th. So on top of forgetting things, I also get to hear things that people say.. aren’t there… Splendid! Journal Entry 6 September 14th 2011 I’ve had a sudden spark of inspiration today as I got out of bed. I’ve come up with the genius idea of mapping out my home on a floor plan. That way if I ever get lost or confused I can refer to my map to get me where I need to go. I’ll start this immediately, and will write a quick update when finished. What started as a harmless wave of productivity quickly became a waking nightmare. As I began to walk around my home drawing out all the rooms and furniture on my floor plan, I noticed that my front door had turned into a staircase leading to the floor below. I don’t remember giving the apartment permission to just take away my front door. Now how am I to keep strangers from walking up this unprotected staircase into my home. But that’s not where it ends! Upon going down the stairs I appeared to be in another home. And a very rude housekeeper woman was in the kitchen “WHERE IS MY FRONT DOOR!” I rightfully exclaimed to her. She just looked at me as if my own personal living space wasn’t an important matter “go back upstairs and I’ll see about putting your door back” she said. But this wasn’t a satisfying result to my troubles so I tried leaving to find the apartment manager. Surly after living here for 12 years they would treat a long term tenant with more respect and regards for my home. My front door. But as I went to leave this home at the bottom of the staircase, the woman waved her hand and made the exit to the home disappear! I stormed back up to my apartment and now I sit here writing my thoughts. This woman has the ability to rearrange doors and stairs apparently. And she’s obviously messing with my house just to annoy me. Journal Entry 6 September 20th 2011 The most ridiculous thing has happened. I’ve just left a Christmas dinner. On September 20th, I Maurice M Thomas have just left.. a Christmas Dinner! The woman downstairs is even more crazy than I initially thought. She’s kept me hostage in my own home, never returning my front door, and now she invites me downstairs for Christmas dinner? I was quite hungry so I accepted her whimsical offer, but still.. it boggles my mind how truly crazy this woman is. And to top it off, she even printed out a fake calendar hanging it on her wall making it look like it was December 25th 2022! As crazy as she is I can’t help but admire her dedication to the whole delusion she’s made up. Journal Entry 2 November 8th 1968 It’s been a tough day. The orange stuff is all over the place I’ve noticed since we’ve been moving in deeper to enemy territory. Don’t know who’s been filling my journal with nonsense. Bet it was Frank. He’s always pulling jokes like this. I’ll have to tell him to cut it out when I see him next. He’s always pulling jokes like this. I’ll have to tell him to cut it out when I see him next. As stupid as he is, he’s still my best friend. My pillar. He’s actually the one who told me to start this journal. “In the case that one of us dies out here we should keep a journal for our loved ones to read. Something that’ll put their hears at ease when we aren’t there to give them hugs anymore.” He’s always been the open emotional type. But he did make a good point which is why, In the case that I die out here in Vietnam, I write you this letter Nichole. My darling daughter. Even if I don’t always say it just know it’s true. You’ll always be the reason I fight. You will always be the reason I get up every day and keep moving forward. Even thought you’re just a precious little girl, I hope it’s not too much to ask you to carry the entirety of your old mans love on your shoulders. I love you very much Nichole. Don’t ever forget it. Journal Entry ? February 5th 2022 (or so I’m told) My captor, the woman downstairs, has invaded my home. This morning I walk out of my room to find her waving her hands about changing the entirety of my home. Making balloons appear everywhere, and snapping a cake into existence out of thin air. She even brought these loud children with her. They giggled as they lit the candles on the cake and sang me a song. They kept referring to me as … no.. i shouldn’t repeat their nonsense. But everyone seemed to be under the completely hysterical impression that today I turn 82 years old! I know the years haven’t been the most kind to my youthful features but 82 is a bit of a stretch don’t you think? Case File #C211286 Patient F-201 Maurice M Thomas, or as he’s been labeled, Patient F-201 was sedated on the scene and relocated when agents arrived at Nichole Thomas’s home in response to a distress call. F-201 was showing readings that go far beyond the comprehension of our power ratings. F-201 was reportedly seen by an eye witness rearranging, on a molecular level, the atoms of a birthday cake candle. During this process our eyewitness says quote “he changed the candle from 82 to 72. in my head I knew he wasn’t 72, but in the moment i felt the unbearable pain of the idea being violently pushed into my memories as if my brain were being played with physically.” End quote. Fortunately for the eye witness their brain was young and healthy enough to resist the effect until we arrived. Unfortunately miss Nichole was unable to sustain the Brain altercation imposed by F-201 and as of February 5th 2022 at approximately 2:38pm had been diagnosed clinically deceased. Upon extensive research on F-201 we have labeled him a Category 100+ force. His power goes far beyond any other known powers and he is also the most unstable. According to F-201s doctor, Dr.Himsbrow, the patient suffers from late stage Alzheimer’s. As we understand F-201 has the ability to make his own thoughts and beliefs tangible and real. Can even cause others brains to be re-written. Although it has not been tested, F-201 potentially has the ability to create and destroy matter just by believing that he can. He could in theory create true perpetual motion, access the fourth fifth and sixth dimensions, and even reverse the flow of time. At the moment we have him contained in a maximum security facility. We’ve managed to set up psychological barriers making him believe he is still powerless. And thanks to his Alzheimer’s this process was much easier to set up. Yesterday he relived the day him and his girlfriend saw Elvis Presley on stage. Everything within a 50 mile radius of F-201 was altered, and we all observed the a very much alive and breathing Elvis preforming in stage. While F-201 believes he is truly in his 20s again, his brain remains stuck in its 80s. Still decaying to the Alzheimer’s, and set to be non functional in less than a year. It is our number one priority to make sure F-201 never finds out he has Alzheimer’s or we may be doomed to a forever altered universe. End of Case File #C211286. File open for added entries upon new relevant information.

Something New

Denver Thrasher

3 min read

Papa always told me it’s important to be honest. Once, I came home with a roll of quarters n’ he asked where I got’em from. “I found em’ ” I told him without any hesitation. He bout blew a gasket when he found out I slipped it out of Mrs.Audrey’s desk when she wasn’t lookin’. “Don’tcha know them quarters where used to pay fer school lunches fer the kids that ain’t got none?” He asked. Sittin across from me in the principals office. Them both lookin at me all funny. So I shrug and regurgitate the word “sorry”. That usually does the trick. When people seem to be upset with me I just assume they waitin fer an apology. “Yer gonna give’em back, and yer gonna save up a whole new roll of quarters to give to Audrey young ma’am. Understand?” I saved the quarters just like he told me. Gave ‘em back. Mrs.Audrey even bought me a baked cookie for lunch after. “Papa. Why is it wrong to take quarters?” I asked him when I got home that day. “Cause they ain’t yours. And ya need to respect that they ain’t yours. How would you like it if I went and took yer toys?” This didn’t quite make sense to me so I just nodded and let the topic change after a little. After a week or two Mrs.Audrey became really sick n’ the whole town started acting weird. Everyone going to her house n’ making her food. Papa was workin a bunch, so I just stayed at home alone most evenings. The substitute didn’t believe in homework, so he toll us to try something new every day. I didn’t have any friends to try new things with so I ended up walkin round the yard waiting for papa to come home. Thinkin of new things to try. I’d tried lots of things already but none of em were very important. Other kids would play the same old games in their yard every day’ n then do it again the next. Sometimes I’d see ‘em fall and they’d cry and run inside. I always wondered what makes someone cry. They always act different when they cry. Papa said that crying means someone is sad, but I’ve been sad before, but don’t remember cryin. Papa said I’d cry lots when I was a baby. Said it was jus something baby’s do. That day a little bird fell out of our tree we had in the front yard. I heard it cryin. I went and looked at it as it wiggled and cried. I looked for it’s mama but she was gone too. The little bird fell out of the nest and didn’t know how to get back up. And it was cryin cause it was sad. I didn’t want it to be sad, so I took a rock n’ popped it’s head to make it feel better. When it stopped cryin I felt like i helped it. I’d never felt it before but it felt right. Next day in class our sub mister Ricorich asked everyone who tried something new to raise their hands, n I raised mine for the first time all week. He smiled and told us to keep trying new things. Said it would make us better than we were before. That day while waiting for papa to get home I went to the neighbors house to see their dog. His name was Sid, n he would always whine when his mama was at work. “Are you sad mister Sid?” I asked him as he sat there chained to his pole. He was a bigger dog. Bigger than me. “I’ll be right back Sid.” I went n got papas knife. The one that he used on his hunts. I came back and Sid was still cryin. So I pet him a little. He would always rest his big head on my lap when I sat down with him. He set his head down, n I open papas knife and put it into Sid’s head. It was allot harder than with the bird, and Sid started cryin more, so I kept putting the knife in him. Three times in his head, two times in his leg, three times in his tummy. I was helping him, but he bit me once. After a few minutes Sid was quite. His mama came home right after and ran to him.. she was cryin.. so I opened papas knife.. and helped her.

Like A Knife

Denver Thrasher

1 min read

Deep breaths take up far more space than silence. Don’t you think? Deep breaths often prelude an ensemble of words that will never return, but rather get stuck in your head. Like a song. Like a song.. Words that may have been collected. Saved. Edited. Perfectly arranged for one purpose. Words that aren’t wanted. Aren’t asked for. But given to you all the same. Perhaps silence would be a far greater alternative than a song. Silence never hurt anyone. Right? But words they can hurt. They can hurt almost as if they were real. As if they weren’t just vibrations in the air. Words they can cut deep. Like a knife. So keep your deep breaths. Keep them in and don’t let what follows out. I’ll join you. In the emptiness. In the silence.

Poetry