The opposite of consrtruction Might just be destruction But there would be no production Without destruction.

For each and every brick And each and every stick Did not start with a magic trick But with destruction.

For the brick requires dirt And for that the earth gets hurt By mines the earth is girt And that is destruction.

Metals like iron, alloys like steel Farming for food to have a meal All break the earth, can you feel That is destruction.

So for the good of everyone Some destruction must be done Stewards of the earth we must become So that destruction becomes construction.

It started out as any other day. Rolling around on the floor with the kids and the pets. It was all so much fun. And then he saw it. The familiar red dot. It was making its way up his torso. He did not know how, but the Sniper had found him.

His military training kicked in and he grabbed his two children under his arms like two sacks of potatoes. Heavy potatoes. When had they gotten so heavy? Or maybe he had gotten out of shape. It did not matter. He had to get his girls out of harm’s way.

“Daddy!”

He ignored the shout.

“Daddy! What are you doing?”

The dog was right at his heels. Ever the faithful companion. She would protect the kids if the Sniper got him. He turned hard into the girls’ room. He slammed the door behind him. The dog barely made it in with her tail.

He hunkered down by the girls away from the window. “Shh.”

The two youngsters hunkered down too. They were smiling. And laughing.

“Shh.”

“Why are we hiding daddy? Is it hide and seek, and Mommy’s it?”

Cassandra! He bolted out of the room. “Cassandra!”

She was there in the middle of the room. She smiled at her husband. “Where did you go in such a hurry?”

He was still crouching. He saw the red dot again. It was on the floor in front of Cassandra. The kitten pounced on it. Then the dot moved and the kitten pounced again. He smiled. This was not a war zone. The Sniper had not found him. For he had found the Sniper long ago. And there was no reason to fear. No reason to fear at all.

“You want me to ride this to work?”

Gabby nodded. “Yes.”

“A unicycle! Do I look like a clown to you?”

She smiled. “Yes.” Then she giggled.

Joey sneered. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Yes.” Gabby fell on the ground laughing. She kicked her feet in the air.

Joey smacked his forehead with his palm. Then he dragged his hand down his face. He frowned. Gabby laughed harder.

The door opened. Joe continued to frown as his brother, Beau, stepped into the room. Beau looked at his sister, who was still on the floor. She had toned her raucous laughter into a giggle. He caught her eye then nodded toward their younger brother, who was still frowning. “What’s with him?”

She giggled once more. “He doesn’t want to ride the unicycle to work.”

Beau was deadpan. “Nobody said nothin’ about ridin’ that thing to work. You gotta ride it at work.” he remained stone-faced. “Bozo.”

Their father walked into the room at just the right time. “Yes?”

Beau and Gabby laughed. Their mother came into the room and joined the laughter.

Joey frowned. “Buncha clowns.”

Gabby agreed, “You know it!”

Joey tried to keep frowning, but he had to smile. His mother gathered her family into a group hug. He joined them, pretending to be reluctant.

Joey finally smiled. “Buncha clowns.”

“You finally came back. But I don’t need you anymore.”

He turned to go.

“Wait! That’s it?”

He shrugged. “You said you don’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t need you anymore because you took so long to get here, and I figured it out myself.“

He smiled. “Right.”

“Right!? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figured out your problem, right?”

“Right.”

“You learned something, right?”

“Right.”

“You struggled a little doing it, right?”

“Right.”

He smiled. “So my job here is done.”

“What do you mean your job is done?”

“Look, you’re a student and I’m a teacher. Part of my job is to make sure that you can function without me. Part of my job is to make myself obsolete. Which means that part of your job is to struggle a little as you learn. If you don’t struggle, you aren’t really learning. Part of my job is to let you struggle. Make you struggle, in fact. So I don’t answer every question when your think you need it answered. I don’t answer every question with a straight answer. I don’t even answer every question. You might have noticed that sometimes I ignore your questions. Or pretend like I don’t understand. I make you explain what you’re trying to do. I make you use more words. Explain your question in such a way that you answer your own question. In fact, I’ve heard you many times say that you don’t need me once you’ve clarified your question to me. Which means that you’ve clarified it to yourself enough to come up with your own answer.”

The student’s jaw dropped. “You do all that on purpose?”

The teacher asked, “What do you think?”

She did marry the prince, who eventually became the king. But she did not do it for the normal reasons. Not for power. Not for riches. Not even for love. She married the future king for two reasons really. For honor. She was nothing if not a dutiful princess and daughter. And she married for curiosity.

“Curiosity?” you might ask.

Indeed. Curiosity. But perhaps we should start a little closer to the beginning.

---

The monarchy was in trouble. The king had come up against some smaller fiefdoms that had banded together. They were causing him troubles with their visions of glory. Even though he had always been a good king to his subjects and benefactor to those in the surrounding areas.

The trouble was not his own subjects. Good King Darius was beloved. His kingdom had been peaceful. For many generations, in fact.

King Darius had been named after Darius the Mede. And like the Mede, he had his own Daniel. But his wise man’s name was Horace.

Horace was thoughtful. He was wise. But above all, he was loyal. He had advised the king in his affairs for many years. As he had advised the king’s father and grandfather. Yes, Horace might have been long in tooth and grey of hair, but he was still sharp. And he had information from far and wide.

Horace had heard the rumblings. The fiefdoms around King Darius had started rattling their sabers. But they mistook the king’s peace and prosperity as weakness. Still, there were more and more fiefdoms around their peaceful kingdom who were looking to grab lands or make war just for the sake of making war. Horace thought he knew why.

Horace bowed before the king. “O King Darius, live forever.”

The king smiled. “Horace, how many times must I tell you that you need not address me that way. It is a remnant of times past. Time passed long ago.”

Horace smiled back. “Yes, o king. But those times and those rituals had their place. And in my place as your advisor, I do well to remember that you are my king. My liege.”

“Very well.” The king sighed. “It is no use arguing with a wise man such as yourself. A man who looks forty, but who I know is at least twice that age.”

“You flatter me, Sire.”

The king narrowed his eyes and grinned a mischievous grin. “But you still won’t tell me how old you are.”

“No.”

“Very well.” The king sat up straighter on his throne. “Well, then. What say you?”

Horace frowned and furrowed his brow. “The fiefdoms are following the lead of Lord Lucius, my lord.”

“Lucius.”

“He seems to think that if he gets enough smaller fiefdoms to follow him that he can be king in your stead. He thinks that he has the wherewithal to not only defeat you, but to rule this peaceful realm. Even to rule greater lands than these.”

“And what say you, o wise counselor?”

Horace continued to frown. “You must forge an alliance.”

“An alliance?” King Darius’s eyes grew wide. “An alliance with Lucius?”

Horace laughed. “No, Sire. Not in a thousand lifetimes would I recommend such a course of action.” He furrowed his brow once again, but did not turn his smile into a frown as before. “No. I suggest an alliance with a farther neighbor. An alliance with another worthy kingdom.”

“With Gerard?”

Horace nodded.

“But… But… How have you hit upon such a strange notion?”

Horace grinned. “You know o king.”

The king stood. He frowned and stomped his foot. “I forbid it.”

“He was a young man then. Probably still a boy in mind if not in body. It was youthful pride and maybe his father, King Gerard, put him up to it. But Prince Leo was not really ready for marriage then. He has since proven himself loyal and true. Brave and steady. Honorable above all else. And he knows that Lucius is cunning and deceitful. Lucius has approached King Gerard to make an alliance through marriage, but the prince has rejected any and all advances on that front. He sees right through Lucius and the rabble he tries to lead.”

The king stammered. “But… But… But Gwendolyn. My daughter. My princess. Gwendolyn.”

“She is ready to do her duty my liege.”

“But Gwendolyn.”

Horace lowered his voice. “We could always ask her, my lord.”

The king’s eyes grew wide. He shouted, “Gwendolyn!”

She came from somewhere on the king’s left. Her head was down. But Horace could see that she was trying not to smile.

“How much have you heard child?”

Gwendolyn frowned and stomped her foot. So much like her father, Horace thought.

“I keep telling you father, that I am not a child. I am a woman.”

“Women do not eavesdrop,” Horace said without any hint of emotion.

Gwendolyn smiled. “They do if they’re training to be spies.”

Horace smiled back, “And who, pray tell, are you training to be a spy for?”

“You, o wise and wonderful counselor. You, Horace. Long of tooth and grey of hair. You and good King Darius, my father.”

“Nobody asked you to be a spy.” The king frowned.

Gwendolyn lowered her eyes. “I know father.” She looked into the king’s eyes. “I am just letting you know that whatever duty you want me to perform, I am ready. To be a spy. To be a peace offering. To be the unbreakable bond between two allies. I am here for you and for the kingdom.” She kneeled before her father.

King Darius glowered. He shook his head. He paced in front of his throne. He stopped and looked directly at Horace, then down at his still kneeling daughter. “Will he be good to her?”

“I believe the prince has shown great character.”

The king looked at his trusted counselor and raised an eyebrow.

“Since the incident, your Majesty.” Horace smiled.

King Darius smiled. Gwendolyn looked up at her father and gave him a glimpse of a start of a smile. A smile, Horace was sure, that was ready to be wiped away at the slightest displeasure of the king. The king directed his gaze to Horace again. His eyes bored through his counselor.

“Will he love her?”

Horace pursed his lips. “Love is a choice, Sire. And I believe young Prince Leo has chosen to love your daughter. You could see it when he jousted with your most seasoned knight. He would not have given up the sword fight either had you not stopped it. Even if it had been mortal combat. He has chosen, Sire.” Horace looked at Princess Gwendolyn who was looking back at him. “And I believe he has chosen wisely.” He looked at the king again. “I have heard that many a princess has tried to turn Prince Leo’s head, but he rebuffs them all. And when Lucius offered his daughter, Prince Leo was diplomatic but refused.”

Horace reached out to the princess and she stood. He looked from father to daughter. “Will they have romantic love? Love that will be written about for years to come? I do not know. What I do know is that romance comes after the choice to love. At least true romance. Romance that grows with the love. That grows with the choice.”

King Darius slumped down on his throne. His face was drawn and haggard. He looked at Horace who was stone-faced. Then, he turned his gaze to his daughter. “And what say you, daughter?”

Princess Gwendolyn looked at Horace, then at her father. She knelt down again and grabbed his hands. Father and daughter shared a moment of silence holding hands.

“I say, ‘Yes.’ I will marry Prince Leo. For duty. For honor. For the hope of that romantic love. And for curiosity.”

King Darius looked at his counselor, who shrugged. Gwendolyn smiled as she looked from the man she considered her greatest friend to her father. She smiled. “I am curious if grey-haired wise Horace is right about love. I am curious if Prince Leo truly made a choice to love me those several years ago. I am curious if poets and song writers will write about our love for years to come. Just as they have written about your love for my mother. Just as you yourself have written about your love, which will never cease though she died these several years ago. I am curious if ours will be just a joining of kingdoms or a joining of souls.” Gwendolyn smiled. “I marry for honor and for curiosity, o King. May you live forever.”

The three smiled. King Darius laughed. “Dear daughter. You have spent too much time with Horace or with eavesdropping. Either way, know this. I will be happy to rest with your mother once I know that you and your prince have made your choice to love one another.” He winked. “Although, once I know that, I will be happier to stay around when I hear of a grandchild. Or two or three.”

King Darius nodded at Horace.

Horace called out, and a knight and his page appeared. “Go at once to King Gerard.” He looked at King Darius. “We are to have a joining of kingdoms.” He looked at Gwendolyn. “And we will have a joining of souls in holy matrimony. A much more important union than mere kingdoms.”

Gwendolyn smiled. She was ready for love. Love for king and curiosity.

“Dorothy.” They said it unison.

“Definitely Dorothy.” Joan laughed. “Maybe the Wicked Witch of the East is under there. Under that house that should not be there on the ledge.”

“Nah.” Joey scoffed. “It’s been there too long. Her body would have been absorbed by the earth. Or whatever happened to her.”

“Oh. Oh.” Joan was excited. “Maybe her ruby slippers are still there.”

Joey smiled. “Maybe. Maybe we should see.”

Joan slumped to the ground. “No. I think that the slippers are gone. If they were ever there. I mean Dorothy would have gotten them already, right?”

“Follow the yellow brick road.”

Joan looked at the house sitting in an impossible place. She knew that there had not been any tornado like Baum had described. No wizard. No Oz. Not even a dream. But there it was. A house hanging over a precipice. A precipice made of concrete. A precipice made of concrete at the beach.

“Wait! I’ve got it!” Joey shouted. He picked up the model house. “The house was on the beach somewhere across the Gulf. Then, a hurricane swept it away. And a tital wave lifted it up to the concrete piling of a pier. The rest of the pier washed away. But the people survived. But they need to get out now. Before the house falls or gets washed away again.”

Joey smiled. Then, he shrugged. “What do you think?”

Joan struggled to keep her laugh from coming out. But she could not do it. She giggled out loud. “An L. Frank Baum, you are not.”

They both laughed, then said in unison, “Follow the yellow brick road.” They laughed some more.

He’s looking for me, but I don’t want him to find me this time. At least I don’t think I do. But it is cold. Bitter cold. I thought that it was warming up, but the snow came again. Just after I left the house. Oh how I want to run away. He’s so mean.

He says grounding me is for my own good. He says that I shouldn’t smoke. I shouldn’t hang out with my friends who do. That they’re leading me astray. Oh, but I love them. Or at least I used to. I used to love being with them. We would hang out here in this grove of trees. This fortress of forest. Hide beneath the trees. Our parents won’t find us. But they always did. And we were glad. Even when we were mad at them.

I’m not so sure I’ll be glad Dad finds me today. I know I told him that I hate him, but I don’t really mean it. I know he’s got my best interest at heart. He wants the best for me. But they’re my friends. They can’t always be wrong. Can they? Can they truly be leading me astray? Probably. Dad isn’t always right, but he probably is this time. I don’t even like cigarettes. They make my clothes stink. And those ecigs are just as bad. They don’t make me stink, but they make me cough. Like I’ve got a cold.

Oh no. He turned around. He heard that cough. But that cough is not from cigarettes or ecigs. It’s a cold. Or the cold weather tickling my throat.

“C’mon baby. Time to go home. It’s cold. There’re icicles hanging from your hair. How long have you been out here? Why must you always run away when you’re mad at me. You’re not three anymore. You’re eight. C’mon. Time to go home.”

I can’t believe that I’m reaching up for him to pick me up to take me go home. But he’s right. It’s time to go home. I don’t really want to run away. I don’t really want to freeze out here under the trees. I don’t really want to…

I’m glad we’re going home. It’s cold. Bitter cold. But it’s warm in Dad’s arms. I lean my head on his shoulder. I’m glad we’re going home. I’m glad Dad found me.

Light. We take it for granted when we have it. But when it is gone…

“Nooooooooooooo!”

I screamed for what seemed like hours when they closed the door. There was no light. Not one little bit. None from under the door. None through a window. No light at all.

I had only been in such complete darkness when they turned the lights off in a cave in Arizona. We were kids taking a tour of some caverns. The tour guide said be prepared, but there was no preparing for being in total blackness. I remember putting my hand right in front of my face. Nothing. I could see nothing. Nothing at all.

I did not scream as a kid because that was voluntary. This was nothing like that. They threw me into the room. At least I assumed it was a room. They threw me in from one dark room to another. I heard the latch click as they locked me in. That was when I screamed. Total darkness was terrifying.

I remembered the caves as a kid after I stopped screaming. I remembered that I had control of myself then even though I had no control of the dark. So I figured that I could have control again. Even though I was not in control of how long I would be here or any of the circumstances surrounding my captivity. If it was captivity. I did not know where I was or why I was here. All I knew was the darkness.

I had one memory from before the darkness. It was a face. A beautiful face. I could still see her in my mind’s eye. And it calmed me. Was she my girlfriend? My wife? She was definitely not one of my sisters. I could remember them. I could remember stuff from way back when. I just could not remember what happened to get me here. But I could remember her face. Her beautiful face.

I do not know whether it was a memory or just a fanciful notion, but I saw her eyes pleading with me. Like I should not let myself get put into this situation. Like maybe there was another way to keep me in the light. Keep me in her life. I had to laugh. Like I said, I had no idea whether the thought was a memory or just some fantasy. Something I made up to get me through the time in the dark.

I do not know how long I had been in the dark, but it seemed days. They kept feeding me, so I figured it had been days. I had eaten at least nine meals. Three days worth of food? I did not know for sure. But it seemed reasonable. But I was not sure. The only thing I knew was the dark. And that if I stayed near the door, they would feed me. They would continue to let me live.

I wondered if I might have been kidnapped. But I figured that was not likely. After all, our family had no riches to speak of. We were just normal people. Kidnapping was for people with money. So I kept wondering why I was here. Here in the dark.

I decided that I was not going to let the dark control me after a few more days (or however long it had been). I crawled away from the door. Away from where they fed me. I was not afraid anymore. Or at least not that afraid. I had stayed by the door hoping to get a glimpse of light. Any light. Any light at all. But they always seemed to give me food when I was asleep.

So I figured that I would venture out from the door. I was getting used to the darkness. I was sensing things in a different way than I would have with the light. I did not need to see the walls. I would feel them. I could feel the floor beneath my feet and noticed that it was even. So after a while I just walked instead of shuffling to find out where I was.

---

It was after a short nap and a quick bite that I found I was in a maze. I walked as far in one direction as I could and hit a wall. I felt the adjoining walls and found that I had come to a T. I turned left and went just a few steps with my hands on the walls on either side. The wall on my right stopped. I had come to another T. But I was on the top of the T and the vertical bar went to my right.

I navigated the maze for what seemed like hours. But I knew what I knew and found my way back to the door. I found that there was food.

I lifted the plate to my face. I was about to eat my first bite when I stopped with the fork just below my mouth. Something was wrong. Something was different. I could just smell a whiff of something. Something that did not belong on food. I set the fork back on the metal plate. I took a pinch of the top of the food. There was some sort of dust on the top of what was a half decent meal. I scraped off a top layer of the food with my fork. I sniffed the rest of the food. I wiped the fork off, then ate.

I wondered how long the food had had the layer of dust on it. Was it right from the start of this ordeal? From the first meal that I ate? If so, what was it? Poison? I worried a little. Then I realized. Well, if it was poison, I would be out of this mess. I laughed out loud. The dark did not scare me any more.

In fact, the darkness had made me grow. I had learned to rely on my other senses. I had learned to listen. To smell. To feel. To taste. I could even taste the salt on my lips when I sweated.

---

I was sound asleep when I realized that I could hear the scrape of feet outside. My captors were coming to feed me. I knew they had food because I could smell it as soon as they cracked the door open. But I knew something else. She was there. The woman who I had seen just before they shut the door was here with my captors. Somehow I remembered her scent. Was she here to rescue me?

My captors gave me sunglasses as soon as we got out of the only door I had known for what seemed like forever. We went through another set of doors to a corridor. I looked back at the doors and realized. The small room we had left was like an airlock, but for light. It was why I had never seen even a sliver of light when they opened the door to my maze.

The corridor was huge. At least compared to my maze. I could not reach both walls like I had been able to do when I was finding my way. And it was bright. I was thankful for the light, but I was just as thankful for the sunglasses. We walked across the corridor to an office. And I saw the sun through the big windows.

The woman led me to a chair and I sat. I closed my eyes and just looked at the sun through my closed eyelids. It was light red. It was beautiful. And the sun warmed my skin. Light and heat. Life. I heard the woman sit down at her desk and lift the screen on her laptop. She typed her password. I heard nine keystrokes before she pressed the ENTER key. I smelled the floral scent she was wearing.

“How long was I in that room? That maze?”

“Uh…” I could smell a hint of sweat mix with the floral scent. “Uh… Two months.”

“Two months! Just two months! It felt like four or five.”

“Well, you were only supposed to be in there for two weeks.” I could smell her sweat overtaking the floral scent.

“Supposed to be?”

She asked, “Do you not remember the circumstances of how and why you went into the… maze?”

I shook my head. “No.” I debated for a second before continuing. “In fact, I thought you were my wife for a while. But I must have made that up.”

“Indeed.”

I opened my eyes. I saw the sweat on her brow. The sweat that I had already smelled. I decided that she had more to say. I heard her wiggling her leg below her desk. Restless leg syndrome? Maybe. But I thought that she was nervous for some reason. And I was not going to let her off the hook. I wanted to know. I wanted to know why I was kept in the dark for two whole months.

She sighed. It seemed louder than any sigh I had ever heard in my life. Then, she began.

“You signed up for an experiment. You said you needed the money that we would give you for staying in the dark. Two months was the longest we would keep you in there deprived of both light and companionship. It would be cruel and unusual punishment for anybody if it was forced on him. Well, on anybody but you, apparently.”

She closed her laptop and looked down for a moment. She looked at me and continued, “The goal was to see what effects there were on such sensory deprivation. Specifically light deprivation. And for some reason, you seem to come out of it unscathed. Maybe even enhanced. You smelled the drugs we put on your food. They were to keep you calm. You heard us coming to feed you. You seemed to know when it was somebody new who was bringing your food. You even tasted and felt different foods. We put a food you did not like into several of your meals…”

“Raw coconut,” I interjected.

“Right. We put raw coconut into a couple of your meals. You smelled them first. You took out as many pieces as you could just by feeling your food. Then, you felt the tiniest pieces in your mouth. We weighted the pieces you left on the plate and found that you might have eaten one tiny piece. Or we’ll find it on the ground in the maze.”

She sighed that loud sigh again. “Most people last a couple days. Two weeks was the max before you. And those people almost always banged on the door and cried and did whatever they could to communicate with us to get them out. Sometimes on the first day. Before the first meal. But you…”

The sun was rising higher in the sky. It was morning. I closed my eyes again. I smiled.

“You’re smiling.”

“Yes.” I laughed.

She was silent, but I could tell that she was sweating again. I was not going to let her off the hook.

“But you...” She finally continued her thought. “You almost seemed to enjoy it. At least after a while. Maybe the middle of the second week.”

She look down and she sighed one more time. She looked up directly into my eyes. “Of course, we have a bunch of tests and questions to ask you. Part of the experiment, you know. But it’s a beautiful day out. Why don’t you take a stroll around the campus and enjoy the day.”

I stood up. No need to tell me twice. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor.”

---

I walked out the front door into the sunlight. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun. I remembered the light and how wonderful it was. I turned around and opened my eyes to look at the doors I had entered two months ago. And I remembered.

I remembered that I had answered an ad in the university’s newspaper. “Test subjects wanted for a study on the effects of isolation and darkness on the human psyche. Excellent pay.”

I smiled as I looked at those doors. I had entered them looking for a payday. But I had just exited them knowing that I had gotten so much more. Not the least of which was an appreciation of the light. The beautiful, magnificent, warm, comforting light. Even if I did not keep my enhanced senses, I would appreciate the time I had had with them. I would appreciate my time without the light. And now that I was in it again, I would appreciate the light. I would always and forever appreciate the light.

She just needed time with him face to face He needed physical touch. She loved it when they were together some place He didn’t care so much.

Their love languages did not completely mesh But their love endured For he decided that he would keep their love fresh With time together secured.

And she did her part with kisses and hugs With holding hands as they walked She would hold him tight as they danced on the rugs And snuggle up close as they talked.

Everybody must know the love languages of The people they hold most dear In order to show, tell, and demonstrate love To those people they want to keep near.

So discover the love language that you must speak To your most beloved one Then you will discover that all the love that you seek Is spoken through that loved one.

They call me Red. Red of the Wood. Don’t confuse me with Red Ridinghood. For I am not sweet. Not good within. No, deep down inside, I am no good.

I do not mourn my deep rooted sin. Nor that I am evil, no good within. For I am my king, making my own rules. Which means that I will always win.

At least that is what I tell all fools That you need not heed somebody’s rules. For there is really, no good, no bad. And they believe it. For they’re all fools.

If you believe, there’s no good or bad That your own rules will make you glad. Keep on believing that this is true, But in the end, you will be sad.

You may not think I come for you. You might not believe that I am true. But I am Red. Red of the Wood. I am pure evil. I come for you.

You cannot thrust me out with good Though you might be wishing that you could. There is only One who can rescue you. Only He can thrust me from your neighborhood.

But I am a shadow too subtle for you. You still blame me for the things you do. For I am Red. Red of the Wood. My gates are open wide for you.