II

The building looked familiar.

And for the life of me I couldn’t silence the pending notion

Twirling in my head of the building’s importance.

It called me forth; a sultry siren beckoning me forth

My eyes narrowed when I realized this was the apartment

Derek and I had originally planned to buy.

The apartment with counters and cracks

I had touched and memorized to its finish.

When I realized we couldn’t afford it

My heart broke; it opened a new door

Named disappointment.

I realized now that this must have been the beginning.

The timing was right.

The timing was right for when doubt decided

To visit me, or I should rather say, stayed with me.

After that every dark corner was inspected by me.

I had thousands of questions,

Thousands of reasons pounding in a clenching

Tune with my heart. What was Derek doing here?

The possibility, my heart squeezed so tight-

I paused to collect myself before following him.

Each step; each breathe; throbbed louder

Than the declaration of a war beat

A conflict reaching its climax, I exhaled.

Why was I the only one hearing it?

I wanted to go back home.

Back to the cocoon Derek had created for me.

Back in time, before the decision to move settled.

I waited and watched as Derek drew a key

And got in the building. I was stuck in awe

That I almost lost the floor he was heading to.

But somehow I would have known which room even—blinded.

I followed—moving without the little

Protection the night was previously given me.

I knew the floor, I knew the door.

Just as it knew me.

I hide behind the door and

Time cease to exist while I counted

The mysterious numbers hidden in a second.

The door open—I froze.

I

The sky has a way of reflecting inner truth

That when it darkens and cries zealous thunder

I know, it knows the emotion boiling inside of me

As I follow Derek to 1985 Walton Street.

I was hoping my endless suspicious would soon

Lean toward a nascent confirmation.

I watched him; blending myself within the nights’ shadows as

Nocturnal animals lurked behind my fathom wrath.

Ten years, nine months, eight hours, and two seconds

I have shared my unconditional time with Derek, only to find

Two months, three days, five hours, and twenty seconds

I have waited to find out Derek’s motives and conspiracy-

The late night phone calls,

The shimmering whispers as I appeared

The secret corner upward lifts of his lips and eyes,

When he thinks I’m not watching him.

I trusted him.

Never questioned him for all times, only to find just one

Lingering answer he gave me once has opened

A can of hungry worms, patiently waiting to feed upon

His fleshly lies covering me like truth.

Trust built a great wall around my heart,

For all his cunning smiles, his chivalrous laugh

Bounced of me back to him, feeding him

Resilience to treat me the way he did.

I heard whispers, I heard telling

But I washed them off like I wash my hands of

My families who have told me Derek was no good.

Derek was good; Derek was best at playing me for a fool.

I followed him since his last phone call.

He told me he’d be working late.

He patched the way for me so smoothly

 That I blended with his dirty conscience.

I parked about a block behind him.

The alley screamed with mischief,

While the screeching wind blew my hair,

My hands were dipped into my pocket and I followed.

A 2003 black BMW 6 Coupé with tinted windows slowly drives up Leslie Avenue. The car stops at the red light while the driver leisurely scans the lines of women standing across the street displaying a portrait of dirty rainbow. His eyes critically scan each women from head to toe; leaning against the dirty brick wall, their hips widen with lecherous invitations. Their heads were covered in platinum wigs; and feet tucked into a red four inch heels; was sending ludicrous attempts across the street.

He finds her, enclosed by two ostentatious dressed women with raucous laughter almost as if to conceal her presence. His preference always had the same appearances; a certain taste developed since his forgotten youth. He rolls his car to a stop and patiently waits two minute before the woman starts walking toward his car. Her strides were long and sensual as the wind caresses her black shoulder length hair. Eyes almost black and full lips made for kissing, turns around and smiles at the other two women—who continues shouting empty words.

She stops at his car door; her hands on her hips while her purse smugly hugs her underarm, waiting. He rolls down his window to get a good look at her and smiles; he knew she will not be disappointed with his appearance. She smiles confirming his statement. He knows he made the right decision when he felt desire stirring by her open mouthed smile. He unlocks the door and watches as she gets in the car.  She sits, her head thrown back, and her tight skirt hitches up her thighs- white creamy thighs. If she looks down, he’ll bet his desire was providing evidence at the moment.  Read the rest of this entry »

The following incident takes place Friday night; the time dashing on the PVR is 11:30 p.m. The young lady, Emilia Featherhead decides to watch Inuyaha on Carton Network. Somehow she falls asleep and wakes up to a dog rolling in laughter for a Geico commercial. While rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she catches something moving fast toward the kitchen. Spreading her eyes wide, she turns toward the kitchen to get a better look. Nothing! The confusion that settles on her face causes one of her eyebrows to arch upward. From the corner of her eyes she sees the same movement again. She turns toward the dining room only to shout “What the heck?” Read the rest of this entry »

[Tonight's the night - October 30th: Devil's Night. At midnight, it'll all finally be resolved. Let's get going, Bryan. Your hair doesn't have to look THAT good!]

Bryan looked around his room, trying to memorize what it looked like and hoping that everything would be the same when he returned. He shut off his light and left his room, making sure to close the door behind him and went downstairs. His intended path ran that-a-way, toward the front door but he veered off into the kitchen, stopping for a moment to reach into the fridge for a drink and the last of his ammunition. He then slipped into his most comfortable runners and headed outside.

[Don't forget to shut the gate, Bryan!]

He paused with his hand on the cold, wrought-iron fence entryway as it softly clicked its locking mechanism behind him and took one long, slow, deliberate breath - I N and O U T and watched the condensation of his breath melt away, before stepping away from his house and turning left out onto Decker Street. He hadn’t yet walked three blocks before he saw Pete coming around the corner with an overstuffed canvas bag on his back; Bryan could only imagine the arsenal that Pete was packing in there. They said nothing to one another but nodding a greeting, they fell in line and proceeded toward Victory Park – the Town Square in which the battle would take place.

Crossing the Town Hall gardens, Bryan began to feel slightly anxious. Every shadow seemed deliberately placed, every rustle of a tree’s leaves conspired against him to do their best to make him jump just a little and feel a bit more on edge. He cautiously entered the park and ducked behind the stone fountain at it’s head, squinting in the partial darkness, trying his best to determine where his enemies lay and from which direction the attack would come.

[I spy with my little eye... something that is...]

Suddenly – a movement. A glinting of the street light, reflected from something metallic… a coin, a key… a tooth? Bryan stuck his head out just an inch more to try to determine what it could have been. Without warning, something whizzed by his head and struck just behind him with a thud and a crack. A voice from across the park yelled, “ATTAAAACK!!” and the battle was on. The minutes felt like hours as volley upon volley was flung at and around him, striking his comrades and missing others while Bryan ran from spot to sweet sheltered spot, trying desperately to avoid being hit by a projectile and still fire shots with deadly accuracy. He took a hit in the leg just as he was about to dive behind the safety of a bush. Losing his footing, he slipped, landing hard on his right shoulder and rattling his brain around in his skull like a tiny peanut in its shell.

As he lay dazed on the ground, he looked up to see a boy striding toward him with a weapon in his hand. Bryan began to fret – thinking, prone as he was, that this was to be his end. Now his enemy was standing right above him, staring coldly into Bryan’s eyes as if searching his soul but finding nothing worth redeeming. As the boy cocked his arm back and took aim, Bryan opened his mouth as if to say something – anything – that might stop this madness but the sound was choked and stopped abruptly as his enemy began to speak. “It’s nothing personal,” he said to Bryan with an eerie calmness and a glint in his eye. “It’s just revenge.”

[Swing low, sweet chariot... coming for to take me hoooome...]

The fog swirled around him. It danced like a gypsy, swaying toward him, then away – scattering now, only to coalesce anew in fantastic luminescence. Slowly, s l o w l y, it began to clear from his head and he groggily looked around, noticing for the first time since the battle began, the gooey substance practically blanketing the ground all around the town square. Boys lay scattered everywhere, some groaning in pain, others laying still. Strugling, Bryan rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up, using first his arms and knees, then finally up and onto his feet and began to shamble home.

[A few more steps now and you'll have escaped that scene entirely Bryan and with naught but a few pieces of spent shells in your hair and that welt on your forehead. Watch out for the cops!]

Bryan’s ears perked up as they caught the faint auditory whiff of approaching sirens. Rounding the corner onto Helm St, the gruesome view of the park finally gone, having been obscured and replaced by Mrs. Wesley’s Flower Shoppe, he picked up his pace and chuckled as he mused to himself, “Man! This is SO gonna go down in history as the Greatest Egg Fight EVER!”