The light from the fire reflected back at me from the pond. The water was as still as the dead and the light danced across the surface. I knew the fire was a risk, every crackle and pop of the wood sounded like thunder in the silence of the woods. And the light it breathed into the darkness would draw the attention of anyone near enough to see it. Or anything. But it had been weeks since I had seen any sign of people and the nights weren’t getting any warmer.
I would have been better off sleeping in the dirt.
I thought it was the light playing tricks on my eyes. The fire was throwing shadows against the trees and I thought I saw something passing through the trees. I strained to see anything. To hear anything. But all I could hear was the crackle of the fire. All I could see was the shadows in the night.
Soon the smoke started to whisper to me. It crept inside me, curling its tendrils around my heart, and knotting them in my stomach. It crept into my brain and filled every crevice. Until all I could hear was the whisper of smoke between my ears, compelling me look. Forcing me to listen.
I thought the danger was in the woods. I didn’t realize it was in the wood.
I was frozen in place, held captive and captivated. The smoke was alive. Empires rose and fell within the flames. Millions of the dead ascended with the ashes.
Blood erupted from my nose in a crimson downpour.
I watched in horror as the smoke and fire showed me my place in the fabric of destiny. I was a stitch in the unraveling blanket of reality, just waiting to be ripped out by the seamstress of time.
My lungs burned and my breath gurgled in my chest. I fell to the ground. I closed my eyes, but the fire still flashed behind my eyelids. There was no escape. I welcomed death’s cold embrace.
I sit in the quiet, Alone with my thoughts. There’s no distraction, Nowhere to hide. I’m stripped bare to the nakedness of self reflection.
This was the gift of a stranger who came in the night And left behind a hole where once I hid But only when it was full.
My thoughts wander As I wonder What it is to breathe What it is to be me
Magic is what happens when the sun rises But only if you rise with it. To the challenge of a new day A new dawn A new hour to define your new life.
Magic is what happens when the sun rises And baptizes the world in light. Forget the woes of yesterday Forget this world of strife
Magic is what happens when the sun rises Just know you can not stop it. Tomorrow is more sure than yesterday But just sure as night gives way Tomorrow expires too
He first came through my line with a too big smile and honestly I thought nothing of him. Just another customer.
He kept coming though. And eventually I knew his face. His smile was the first thing to catch my eye. He smiled too much and he told bad jokes. But he was cute, so it worked.
He started coming by more often, but it seemed like he rarely bought food. Every few days and always with the same thing. A box of wine and a bottle of vodka.
“Breakfast of the champions” he said with a crooked smile.
He started wearing glasses last month. He looked so soft with them but they hid his eyes so I can’t decide if I like them or not. Either way he told me he liked my haircut so I’m planning our marriage for the fall.
The last time he came in, he never looked up. He just set his box and his bottle on the table and quietly took out his wallet. I hope he’s okay.
It’s been a couple of weeks now. I’m in mourning. Or I was. But the bell just rang and guess who? It’s Crooked Smile himself.
He disappeared into the aisles and I rehearsed my lines in my head. I was still deciding whether or not it would be weird to say I missed him when he approached with his arms full of ramen and vodka.
“Hey! Long time no see. No wine today?”
“No, turns out I’m supposed to eat too. Weird right? This thing should have come with a manual.”
Instead of a smile his mouth just tightened. I laughed anyway and the corners turned up a little. I’ll take it as a win.
He was on his way out and I watched as he paused at the door. He took a step forward and hesitated again.
“Everything okay?”
He turned around.
“Yeah I just- yeah.” And he hurried away.
Shy boy. Be still my heart. ~ He came back again today. His hair was pointing in every direction and there was purple under his eyes. I don’t know why but my heart felt heavy in my chest when he left. ~ I told my best friend about him. She says I should give him my number and I just might. He’ll be back in a few days. ~ I wasn’t wrong. He was back. But his eyes were puffy, and the bags under them were heavy. He didn’t look so good. I don’t think now is a good time. ~ He wasn’t looking better the next time either. Or the next. Or the next. In fact, he seemed to be getting worse. He didn’t make jokes anymore or smile his crooked smile.
In fact he didn’t say anything. He moved so sluggishly it was as if gravity itself was trying to hold him in place. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you okay?”
He looked through me at first. His eyes were glazed over and for a moment I don’t think he heard me. Then they welled up and before I knew it they spilled over.
He left his things on the counter and walked away, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. I couldn’t just leave it at that. I clocked out of my register and bolted out the front door. I don’t know what I expected to find but when I saw him bent over his steering wheel my heart broke.
I tapped on the glass.
His head jerked up and he nearly jumped out of his seat.
“I’m sorry! I just- you haven’t been yourself lately and-“
He just stared at me, tears still streaming down his face, frozen.
“Can I hug you?” I asked him. He didn’t respond but the locks on his car clicked and the door popped open. He stepped out of the car and I opened my arms. He collapsed into them.
I didn’t speak anymore, I just held him there in the parking lot until his choking sobs gave way to steady breaths. When he was finished crying he pulled away.
“Thank you.” He said.
“Of course. I-“
“I’m Robbie.”
“Charlie. Do you want to get coffee?”
“How about a beer?”
“Yeah. Let’s.”
The taxi thrummed over head as Malik waited on the corner. The orange and blue glow of the lights contrasted with the shining chrome under his eyelids.
With a puff he blew his bangs from his eyes and turned up the collar of his jacket, huddling against the biting wind. The crowds walked past him and he stayed rooted in his spot, searching the eyes of the passersby for any hint of familiarity.
She should have been here by now. As of on cue another taxi slows to a stop just across the street and slowly descends to the ground. A woman with fiery red hair steps down on to the curb, he white sneakers in stark contrast against the oil streaked concrete.
The taxi thrummed back to life as it ascended to cruising height and Malik watched as the woman took a deep breath of the sour air and seemed pleased by it. She adjusted her scarf and looked around. Her eyes lit up with recognition as she saw Malik standing across the street. He raised his hand and gave it a wave.
“Malik!” She yelled across the street. He jogged the short distance to reach her and swept her up in his arms. He buried his face in her curls and she smelled sweeter than anything else found on the ground floor.
“Kassandra. It’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you called!”
“Of course! When they told me I was being sent back home I had to tell you right away.” “And I couldn’t be happier. Let’s eat.” He lead her back across the street and into the cafe.
The wait was short and they were soon seated by the window. He watched her watch the city. It had been a long time since these streets knew her steps. The orange a blue glow that he knew so well looked vibrant again on her face.
She turned to meet his gaze and he looked down, suddenly preoccupied with the grime still under his nails. He doesn’t see it, but her eyes soften after he looks away. Years have changed the both of them. She knew immediately that he was changed. And sitting here in front of him now, in the dingy glow of the lower city, she could see all the signs painted clear as day on his face.
The years hadn’t been kind to him. She studied the face that she knew and loved and found new landmarks on what had been a blank slate. The lines in his face told her more stories than she thought he would ever say. The chrome eyes were only the obvious signs. The scars speak for themselves. Small blinking lights just under the skin at his temples told her there was much more to him now than the young man she knew from all those years ago.
Before the silence between them could grow awkward, the waitress arrived.
“Water for me, please” Kassandra said. The waitress raised her eyebrows in response.
“That some kind of joke, honey? We haven’t served water here since ‘47. You can have a DolaCola like the rest of us.”
“Oh. Sorry, I’ve been away for a long time.”
“Mm.” The waitress rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Malik.
“Caff-Go for me, please.”
The waitress tapped on her PadPro and turned on her heels.
“Things sure have changed haven’t they?” She said sheepishly.
“Yeah, it’s been rough down here on the ground. We can’t all go be diplomatic agents, some of us gotta have real jobs” He jested with her, but she was obviously out of place. She looked down.
“You’re right about that”
“You look good though, travel suits you. Get to spend lots of time in the sky huh?”
“Yeah I’ve hit some amazing altitudes. You wouldn’t believe the views at platinum level. It’s beautiful. The clouds look like rolling hills. You just want to roll all over them.”
“So why’d they send you back?”
“Oh it was time for a rotation home. It happens to every agent eventually.”
“We’ll I’m glad it finally happened for you. Must be different back on ground level. Sorry you had to come home to all this.”
“I don’t know, the view is pretty beautiful from here too.” Their eyes met and this time he did see the smile on her face.
The empty space on the mantle was obscene. The photographs lovingly placed there amongst handmade Christmas ornaments, filled every inch of space except for the center, where an urn had rested only the night before.
Chuck stood there with his beer in his hand and could only stare. He wasn’t the type to stir the pot, especially with family. Navigating family issues was preferable to the mine fields he left behind, but not by much. He took another swig of beer.
“It just ain’t right.” He said to no one in particular. Nonetheless, his niece looked up at him with inquisitive eyes. He didn’t look at her, just shook his head and walked away.
Now what could possibly posses a person to steal an urn? Surely, he couldn’t fathom any reason himself and he was loathe to bring it up. Accusing family of stealing was difficult enough when it was money or valuables, but to snatch the ashes of his grandfather? At least he could understand if it was something valuable but something priceless seemed well, wrong.
He didn’t know where his sister went wrong when it came to her kin. The girl, Toni wasn’t too bad. She mostly kept to herself, a quality he valued in people. She seemed to have a good enough head on her shoulders he supposed. Though he didn’t quite understand her style. A puffy jacket seemed overkill for April. That’s what teenagers do though. Confuse the older folks. Odd choices for clothing aside, she was a good kid.
The son on the other hand, well. The boy was cursed. It’s the same curse that ran in the family generations back. He’d seen it in his father growing up and heard stories of his father before him. Chuck managed to avoid the demon himself but he watched plenty of his men come back home just to lose to themselves on their own soil. It was a damn shame.
Still, Chuck was a man who believed in second chances. And sure enough the boy, Thomas, took to the program and worked the steps and turned his life around. He couldn’t imagine any reason for him to go and do something like that.
No, he didn’t think it was the children at all to blame here. It looked like he was going to have to have a sit down with his dear sister. He’d been avoiding her as best as he could while she was staying under his roof but it had to be addressed.
His bare feet were silent on the wooden floors as he made his way down the hallway. He passed by the photos documenting the lives of himself and his sister. Smiling faces that seemed to mock him in his misery.
When the house was passed to him in the will, he couldn’t bring himself to take down any of the photos. It didn’t seem right to him to redecorate. The house never felt like his. It always felt like coming back home to his parents house for the holidays.
He passed his childhood room, now more suitable to an adult man than a small boy. He passed his sisters room on the left, where Toni and Thomas were staying during the duration of their visit.
At the end of the hall was the French doors leading to the master bedroom. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the room his parents died in, so when Claudette and her family asked to stay with him, she and her husband took it for themselves.
He stood in front of the door and tried to bring himself to knock. It should be simple, just raise his hand and tap tap tap. But when he looked at the patch in the door where his father had left a hole after a few too many, he couldn’t bring himself to knock.
Was it really worth the trouble? The accusation and investigation? And for what? Some ashes? No, he imagined the shrill voice of his sister in the tone she used when she lied and he decided it wouldn’t be worth the confrontation. He just wanted to get through the holidays and go back to his life in peace.
If Claudette wanted to keep the urn for herself then that’s exactly what he would let her do. She was too young to remember the demons their father battled but Chuck remembered plenty. If she wanted to keep the remains of the man to herself so be it.
