Arms outstretched and elbows locked Open palms grasp at what’s ahead Will there be peace? Will there be freedom?

It must be attainable For a word to exist There must be a reason Reaching and pulling away or toward it all

Must there be a reason for freedom Can it be a choice or a gift? Can it be both? Can it be neither?

Loose sweat drips and evaporates The atmosphere takes what it is given Swallowing our molecules bit by bit The sky ruptures in favor of our control

The cold air fills the area and wraps its bitter emptiness around my entire body. It is everywhere. It’s as if I’m standing within the radius of a recent atomic bomb site. It bites and it burns. Paired with its relentless ferocity is the unusual yet familiar sunlight that almost feels cold itself, dull yet blinding still. The only color is drab. I suppose the redness of my cheeks would stand out among the rest, but not by much. I don’t know when the smell went away. I thought it never would. It’s gone now along with most of what once was.

The hill, if you can even call it that, consists of leafy permafrost with some patches of wetness. Sludge and grime ruin the white snow that melts sporadically, which over time only adds to the muck and the mire. It’s the time of year where you can’t call it winter but you can’t call it spring yet either so nothing really matters. Nothing feels real. This is real though. There is not an inch of radiance left in her skin. Dry dirt rests in her hair.

Everything else was a blur. The past, present, and future were temporarily lost. I could see how this played out but could not yet accept any of it. I felt everything and nothing at the same time and this was the perfect place for that to happen. It was the only place. From an onlooker’s perspective, there would only be two subjects, alive and dead at rest and unrest. You could almost laugh at the meaningless environment despite it still thriving in its current state or beginning to regenerate, drawing all attention to the slow-decaying person and almost mocking life as we know it. Hours passed and I shifted. After today, I would never see my sister again.

“I need to confess something.. I did it. Now, can you pass the wine?” A good portion of the air left the room and an unknown toxin suddenly began to seep from the outside in. All eyes darted in one direction. The wine was passed intrinsically without hesitation. “What? It’s true. You’re surprised?” “Barbara, what do you mean you did it?” “What do you think I mean? What else could I mean? Thank you!” exclaimed Barbara now gripping the Chardonnay. Tina’s arm didn’t move an inch once the bottle left her hands. They all sat and watched as Barbara poured herself another full glass. All of their eyes glared at her face or watched the yellow liquid slowly fill the shape of Barbara’s glass. “Now by it—“ “Uh huh.” Barbara swiftly brought the glass to her lips and took what could only be described as a gulp. They continued to stare dumbstruck as some wine dribbled out of the corner of her lips. Eyes wide, she wiped the spillage across her cheek and unleashed a historically wide smile that brought a disturbed chill to the bones and connecting sinews of her gathered peers. “I did it.” Another gulp. “I fucking did it! Okay!?” Her relief quickly turned to rage and she raised the glass as if she could hide behind it. They could see how she did it. She didn’t have to tell them, but she did. This was their friend. This was a night to discuss the latest Lisa Gardner. This was a night to drink and this was a night to gossip for sure. This was now something else, something much more sinister. “Barbara…” Her face reddened and the pulsating vein in her forehead thickened as her lips pursed and tears began to form. She knew what she did. They knew it too. Her husband was gone and now it was her turn. This was going to be the start of a new life for Barbara, a long, lonely life where the only remaining moment that would mean something was its end.

If I count the ways I love you I’d be lying by the third I don’t think. I do. And I do. That’s the truth.

It would be a waste of time Mine and yours If I were to count the ways I love you Not much time would pass

You know I love you I think you know I love you I hope you know I love you Do you know how much I love you? Do I?

Maybe if I were to count the ways I loved you You’d know how much I did. But I won’t. So we’ll live until our hearts stop beating.

Time devours everything Eventually. The hourglass we know, from history, Does not accurately represent the one that encapsulates us. Its true walls are far less malleable than one could ever imagine. Time breaks us and we break time. Whether it be a chipping away through finite cracks Or a complete shatter, An erratic explosion or ill-fated implosion of all the particles we’ve ever known and the ones we never knew were there, The steady drip of fine grains does not exist. Instead, time floods. It suffocates. But it also comforts, a steady flow for some and an avalanche for others. The end is the same. Always. Time devours everything.

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall the most brutal reindeer of all?

Häxan the demon reindeer brought about the end of times. Rudolph’s bright and shiny nose burnt out once and for all the night Häxan burst out from the depths of Hell through a narrow rift in the under-dwellings of the North Pole and took out the most famous reindeer of all with one swift lashing at his jugular. He quickly bled out and it was clear to the others that the ferocious beast before them with blinding white eyes was now their leader. Christmas would never be the same.

“Don’t go outside or the chickens will peck it off!”

That’s what my grandmother told a 4-year-old me standing there in crisp autumnal New England, wincing and bracing awkwardly in the backyard. Plastered in dead leaves with mittens on a string hanging by my side and an oversized Detroit Lions knit hat falling over my eyes, I made my way to the back deck to head back in. I believed her. I had no choice. I don’t know if that’s what made me afraid or not but who’s to say?

Cut to every time I went to a pet store. I just wanted to check out the animals. Not all of them. Maybe we just flushed some dead fish down the toilet and it was time to pick up a couple a more, a vicious cycle we all participated in. I just liked browsing. Browsing was always a hobby of mine. I had to stop when I got to the cages though.

Some were in cages. That was fine. Some of the cages were open. Some weren’t contained at all and flew from point A to point B and back again without even thinking how it might affect a frightened youngster who had been warned that they might peck it off. Subconsciously, it could’ve been that. I don’t think so. It was more than that. This was a new feeling. This was hatred. I hated them. I still do.

Did you know How loved you were? You had to know that. Didn’t you? When three walked in and two walked out Did you know?

Did you know Who I was like I knew who you were? Did you know my name? I’ll never know The answers to these questions

It doesn’t matter But you mattered You mattered more than anything It’s not fair how it ended.

Did you know That you’re the reason I’m still here? I know you don’t. I know this answer, but it’s an honest one. There’s nothing that could be more true.

There is no such thing as painless Pain lasts. It never rusts. We grow around our pain like ivy. Did you know How loved you were? You deserved to know.

“Get him on the ground!” The two larger suits grabbed the disheveled man by each arm and shoved him forward. He fell to the pavement with ease. The third suit stepped over to the man’s side and proceeded to get down on one knee. He slowly brought his face to the man’s ear. “You know you’re fucked. We know you’ve got one.” “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” “Oh you don’t?” The third suit, the one in charge, turned back and nodded his head towards the roughed up man on the ground. “Okay.” One of the two kneed him in the spine and brought intense pressure to the back of his neck while the other one frisked him up and down until he stopped inside his left jacket pocket. He pulled out the object, a small rectangular piece about the size of an old flash drive but slightly wider. He tossed it over to his boss. “Then what’s this?” The man in charge brought the item to his lips and slowly inhaled, a bit of an awkward smile made itself visible. He shivered ever so slightly then exhaled the vapor into the air of the night. “It’s peach flavored, boys.”

“It’s gonna fall.” “It’s not gonna fall.” “What do you mean it’s not gonna fall?” “I mean it’s not gonna fall.” “A good gust comes and that thing’s gonna be rockin’ and then it’s gonna drop.” “What’re you talkin’ about?” “I’m talkin’ about that up there. I’ve seen it happen before.” “You never.” “I did.” “You’s a liar.” “No sir. I swear to Jesus. Remember Art Tucker?” “No.” “Well it happened to him. Hanging on the edge just like that. Storm came. Took it right down.” “What happened to him?” “Well he wasn’t home. Came home later in his pickup and saw what had happened.” “You win some, you lose some in this neighborhood.” “I suppose.” “Mhmm.” “How do you reckon it got like that?” “I don’t know for sure, but I heard that ain’t so much sacred land.” “Sacred land?” “You heard me.” “So what? Like evil and such? Spirits rising and moving did that?” “I said I don’t know for sure.” “I just don’t think it’s safe.” “What?” “The foundation. There isn’t one. It’s not safe. They shouldn’t keep building houses there.” “Well, they runnin’ out of places to build them.” “I know. That don’t make it right though. Look at that. That’s comin’ down.” “It ain’t comin’ down.” “We’re safe though, right?” “I’d say so.” “Why’d you say so?” “Because I got to.”