Apple of Her Eye

I promised an entry today, and an entry will be had. This was another story idea that I received in my inbox. After writing this little snippet, I had another idea as to how to address the topic, so I may be revisiting it next week. So here is one way to address the world through the "eyes" of an apple.

I could have become something to be remembered. When you grow to fruition on a small farm, you expect to make more of your life. You expect to be found. You want to be appreciated for your uniqueness. You desire an existence that will leave a mark on the world. Sadly, some of us are not equipped to make our own dreams come true.

My luck placed me in such a situation. Bad luck cannot be fought nor conquered. It must be accepted. It must be obeyed. Whether you realize it or not, you are always obeying your luck whether it is good or bad. I wish I could tell this to the woman who placed me in this bowl. I am the only one of my kind, forced to share my accommodations with a bunch of long skinny guys with thick yellow skins and a couple of perfectly round midgets with bumpy orange flesh. She really should have known I deserved better companions than this, but she didn’t.

She doesn’t even remember I am here. Most of the time, she seems more interested in what is behind the white doors of the large plastic box on the other side of the room. Creams and meats always have more appeal than apples and oranges. She’ll regret it someday, but I shall not be here to see her regret.

I take solace in knowing the duration of this torture will be short. My rosy flesh already softens as I ponder my surroundings. The juicy white flesh underneath begins to brown. My flavor will never be enjoyed. My last moments will probably be spent rotting away in a black plastic bag, but I will know that I could have been so much more if I had attracted the attention of someone who really saw me as the apple of her eye.

As you can see, this apple doesn't have the best view of the world around him. See you next week.

A Chance to Wish

Too deep? Not deep enough?

Sunlight falls into the stream where wishes can be granted once a
year, but only once in a lifetime for each wisher. The stream of tears
trickles endlessly down the face of the land, washing away the filth
that has accumulated over the year. Now the wishers come to lay their
desires before the well of these tears.

Among the wishers is one who holds back. Her golden curls fall in
front of her face, covering the scars upon her cheeks. Those in front
of her move aside as if they feel her need is greater than theirs as
she walks to the waters edge. She dips a finger tentatively in the
water and raises it to her cheek, dabbing a single drop on each before
bowing her head and letting her own tears slide down her cheeks to
drip into the pool. Then she rises and walks away.

They watch her go. Those she passes on her way from the water examine
her face. Everyone awaits the miracle. They all expect to see her
scarred face returned to a former beauty. Their desires are not her
own, for she smiles as she looks at them. Her scars shall go nowhere,
but her heart shall be full. She shall love and for every ounce of
love she gives, love will be returned to her.

Thus she shall be loved by those who truly see her. The waters
diminish and fade away. The scars still grace her cheeks. Those who
made their wishes glory in their wealth, health, and wisdom. Time
makes wealth disappear, health fail again, and robs wisdom from fading
minds, but one's love is renewed each year as the spring wells up
again. Her face is marred but her heart beats with a beauty that draws
in anyone who is touched by it.

Dirty Secrets

I think there is more of this story that wants to be told, but we shall see. I was thinking about how sometimes when we care about people, we try to help them even when the help they need is clearly outside our ability to provide, particularly when it is emotional or spiritual help that they need.

Sunlight breaks through the clouds, pouring out light and warmth for the first time in weeks. The playground is empty except for two figures that stand just inside the gate. The man and woman stand surveying the swing set and jungle gym as if deciding which to visit first. As the beams of the sun reach them, the woman looks up, sending a tangle of golden curls back from her round cheeks. Full lips part to let forth the hint of a smile and she loosens the arms, which were locked across her chest.

Sensing her movement, the man turns to her. His eyes sparkle with admiration at the face hidden behind her hair. One of his hands, which until now hung limply at his side, slowly rises upward as if he would touch her cheek. As she turns to face him, his hand falls away. She does not notice the motion of his hand. Her eyes scan his face so intently that she can see nothing else.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Her voice gives away her anxiety about his answer.

“Let’s climb on the jungle gym,” he evades her question but reaches for her hand.

She lets him take it. He leads her to the jungle gym and places her hand on the gleaming metal of the ladder. Her hand shies away from the cold metal as dark eyes question him.

“Go ahead,” he nods to the ladder and flashes her a smile.

Her grip tightens on the metal bar. Her heart flutters. She looks away from him, turning her attention to the short climb that will take her up to the monkey bars. He watches her in silence, his eyes scanning the length of her body now that her head is turned away. She can feel his eyes and her face flushes as she puts one hand on the first monkey bar. Her eyes remain on the ground as she raises her other hand to take the next bar and pull herself forward.

A flash of light draws her eyes away from the ground. She looks up to see he is smiling at her with a camera held out far enough to view the screen on the back. She smiles back without thinking and the flash goes off again. He extends his hand with the thumb pointed up.

“Looking good, girl,” his voice is laced with more lust than admiration.

She blushes and turns her head again, focusing more intently on the other end of the monkey bars. When she reaches the last bar, he is already there, holding out his hands to help her down.

“Are we going to talk now?” Her words dissolve into a squeal of surprise as he grabs her by the waist.

He lifts her with ease swinging her away from the jungle gym as if she weighs nothing. As her feet touch the ground again, she lets out the breath she was holding in a long sigh. She turns to walk toward the swings, hiding her face from him with a curtain of hair. He hesitates a moment before following her lead.

“So we should talk,” his voice is so low she has to turn back toward him to catch the words.

“Yes. You’ve said that,” she sits on the swing pushing off until metal squeals on metal.

“Have you ever been in love?” He asks the question shyly, watching her intently.

“Yes, I have.”

Her response seems to hit him like a slap. He takes a step backward.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know you were in love?” He recovers his composure.

“I just did. I felt it.” She shrugs her shoulders, watching him intently as questions wheel through her mind.

“And what changed that?”

“We wanted different things.” She forces the words out through the tightness in her chest.

“I’m not like you. I don’t know that I have ever been in love.” He lowers himself into a half crouch so he 

can look into her eyes as she answers him.

“Well, I can’t tell you if you have been in love.” Her words are pinched by the irritation that overtakes her as a flush creeps into her cheeks again.

“Don’t get mad. I just wanted you to know where we stand.” He steps closer to her, looking down at her with more to say written in his eyes.

She waits. She knows that look, but she can’t place it. So many thoughts rush into her head, but none that she would dare share with him. None of her thoughts are what he wants or needs to hear.

“So you told me once that you had made mistakes…” His words trail off to leave his unasked question hanging ominously in the air between them.

Her eyes narrow and her hands tighten on the chains as she stops swinging. “We have all made mistakes in the past…”

“I mean, mistakes that got you into trouble.”

“Yes, when I was younger.”

“So how did you get through it?”

“I changed who I was and what I wanted and worked to become a better person with some help from people who love me.” Her voice is low but her eyes bore into his.

“That’s it?” Disappointment mars his face as he starts to sneer.

“I didn’t say it worked out overnight.”

“So what kinds of things did you do to get in trouble?” His eyes light up as he asks this question and kneels before her in the dirt close enough to touch her knee with his hand, but he doesn’t reach toward her though his hand twitches.

“It doesn’t help either of us to talk about it. It’s the past.”

“Well, if you didn’t enjoy what you were doing…”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she stands up and steps away from him.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. I need you to talk to me. You said you’d help me.” He gets up off of his knees, towering over her.

“You don’t need help or you would be talking to your brother.”  She brushes past him only to find his hands on her shoulders.

He turns her to face him. “But I like it. How can I stop doing things that I enjoy so much?”

“Asking me to talk about my mistakes won’t help you. You have to want to stop.”

“How can I want to? Can you tell me that?” The pitch of his voice belies the forced smile on his face.

She shakes free of his grip, frowning at him. “I reached a point where doing what I knew was wrong made me cry. Things I used to enjoy made me feel sick.”

“What kinds of things?” He probes for more details.

Her eyes widen, “You don’t want help, you want to swap stories.”

“But it would help me,” he holds out his hands imploringly.

“Knowing my dirty secrets can’t possibly help you,” she backs away from him now.

“But aren’t they fun to share?”

“How about you tell me more of your dirty little secrets…” A wry smile punctuates her words but as he opens his mouth to speak, she turns and walks away.

He stands watching with his mouth still agape, but no words come forth to call her back. He knows she 

is gone. He always knew she would be but he had hoped it would not be so soon. It can’t be. He runs to catch up with her, but she has already reached her car.

“Wait,” he calls out to her, but she ignores him.

Her hands are clenched on the steering wheel as she backs away from him. He throws a punch at the passenger door, reveling in the crunch of bone on metal. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look toward the sound. She leaves him to nurse his wounded hand and watch her taillights disappear in the distance.

Invisible...No More

This is just another snippet (flash fiction) from my mind in days gone by...

They can't see you. Don't worry. You're invisible, completely beyond their sight. Sightless eyes can not see what they can not understand. So there you sit, so calm and quiet. You listen to every word they say. You've been listening for years. Your own words are lost until someone else regurgitates them later. So why don't you do anything about it?

Ah, yes, that's perfect. Even if they can't see you, surely they'll see the gun. Maybe they will finally notice you before it's too late and the spiral brings you to the bottom. It's a perfect day to be seen. Look at how lush the green grass looks. Look at all those women pushing strollers with that glow on their face that only mothers have.

There he--right where you knew he would be. He has his back against the tree, leaning ever so slightly as he watches them all walk by. His eyes follow even if his head doesn't. That doesn't matter because if he doesn't see you at last, well...

Barrel to his head, he can't miss you. His eyes widen for a second. He goes to speak. Oh, who cares? The trigger resists, but it's resistance is not enough. BANG! Those eyes go dark and whatever words finally wished to come are gone. The only problem is that now you're not invisible. You knew this would happen though and you just smile to yourself as the cold metal caresses your wrists and you are led away.

Coming Into the New

I found this hanging around and decided to open it up for discussion since my other masterpiece still needs some work and a middle. Enjoy!

She recreated herself, found the time, borrowed the money, and slipped
away. The highway became solace. The fall passed away. Cities come and
go like mist in the morning. No one knows her here. Winter comes.
Frozen hearts can not melt without warmth. She cannot tell them. They
see nothing but her smile, her legs, the fact that she is a woman
alone.

They come to her. Words fall like roses at her feet. They woo her for
a moment, wanting to be entrapped by her, feel whatever passion has
set her adrift. She seems to want the same.

One man takes her arm, leads her to the dance floor. They dance close.
She laughs at him. He has her charmed. Success guaranteed. He pulls
her closer. They fall together toward the door.

They tumble upstairs to stand outside her door. He moves in. His
strong arms are wrapped around her waist. Suddenly, she lashes out.
She is crying. She is screaming. He can not understand. It is his
perception of this madwoman's beauty he questions as he backs away.

She is alone now. Sagging against the door, tears flow. Only her own
arms come up to wrap around her shoulders.  The moment passes. She
finds strength again. The keys jingle as she opens the door and slips
inside.

She stares sightlessly into the darkened room, breathing in the smells
of bodies mingling and stale smoke that cling to the wallpaper.
Crossing the floor swiftly, she flings open the window. Winter air
stirs the scents together with exhaust fumes and wood smoke. Cars pass
on the highway, taking people into the new.

Her eyes gaze out at this her new life. She has no bonds, no
obligations, nothing to hold her down. The same tears sting at her
eyes. The same ache fills her heart. She has the same desire to be
seen for who she is. So this is coming into the new, moving on to the
next stop on the highway hoping at last to find a place to be seen and
respected the way she always was.

The Visitor: Introductions

I fear this entry is a little dry, but it seems to be heading somewhere interesting, doesn't it? In case you are new to the game, this is a continuation of last weeks offering. As always, enjoy!

Tendrils of sunlight caress my eyelids, slowly pulling me out of the dark depths of my dreams. It warms my cheeks as my eyelids flutter open. Different warmth radiates through my left hand. As I lift my hand, it meets with resistance. I turn my head with great difficulty. A long night of sleeping upright in an armchair has taken its toll on my aged muscles. At last I tilt my head far enough that I can see what is holding down my hand. The creature from last night has curled his long legs and arms around my arm in order to rest his head on my hand.

“Let go of me.”

I lift my hand with more determination. Despite his weight, I manage to raise my hand up high enough to shake him free. His furry hands tickle my hand as they slide along my skin. He lands on the floor with a plop. He groggily shakes his head causing the hair on his jowls to stand out from his long nose. I see two of his eyelids slide away from his eyes so that he can peer at me through the third set which creates an opaque shield against the bright light of morning.

‘Is it time for waking?’ The voice bores into my head again.

“Yes. Stop doing that,” I growl.

‘If I stop doing this, I cannot communicate with you,’ he blinks his second layer of eyes at me.

“You have a mouth. You seem to know my language. Just speak.”

‘You don’t understand. I don’t know your language. You do.’ Those large eyes seem to peer into my soul as if to make me understand.

“But you are communicating your thoughts in English.”

‘No,’ his nose twitches as he speaks, ‘Your mind is translating. That is why you are so tired. You haven’t evolved enough to do that efficiently yet.’

I blink my eyes, buying time to process what he just conveyed to me, “So my own mind can translate what you are saying.”

‘It converts my thoughts to the closest equivalent in your speech, yes.’

“And we aren’t evolved enough to do this, but you still want to visit our planet. Why?”

‘We received some of your,’ the voice pauses to seek out the right words, ‘radio transmissions. It took us many years to begin to understand them. Even then, we did not understand completely. Later, we began to receive…pictures in motion. These confused us more. They depicted what you call love, fear, humor, and other…emotions. We do not understand them. We need you to help us understand.’

The words seem to weigh heavily on me as they drain my energy. I do not understand the question. He seems to be aware of this.

‘We just want to understand these emotions. We do not have an equivalent concept. Perhaps we lost it as our minds advanced. Will you help me?’

“I will see what I can do. I am not used to teaching concepts such as those. I used to teach chemistry at the university, but I could quantify, explain, and show data to my students. Emotions are very subjective.”

‘I was sent because I am an adept learner. My people and I will be most grateful.”

He leans in as he speaks to me. His nose almost touches mine as he peers into my eyes unblinking.

“Okay, I’ll do my best,” I hope my answer will make him draw back from my face as his breath has a strange aroma.

‘That is good,’ he leans back to look at my whole face, ‘Shall I call you professor?’

“I’m not a professor anymore. If we’re going to be spending time together, you should call me Wendell. I am more curious about what your name is.”

‘We do not have names as you do. You will have to give me a name if you want me to have one.’

“I’ll call you Ralph then,” I smile at my own joke since he makes me think of a bunch of parts that some wild animal might throw up.

He seems to contemplate this moniker for only a moment, ‘Then I shall be Ralph.’

The Visitor: First Meeting

This story began as a result of a writing prompt I received via e-mail. Enjoy and feel free to comment. I feel there is more to be said. How about you?

A single glance between two people can change your life. I always passed this belief off as foolishness. I have spent too many years studying and learning to fall for such pedantic drivel, yet each night before going to bed, I glance out the window. Somewhere outside my enclosed environment, more information waits to be discovered. What am I missing? What don’t I know that would bring me closer to enlightenment? What is out there that I am still not aware of? This evening was no different…at first. Then I looked out the window one last time, knowing that it wouldn’t be any different than the millions of times that I had looked out that window before.

I must now accept that I was wrong. A single glance between two creatures truly can change your life. On the other side of the pane of glass, large bright eyes reflect the light of the fireplace. I lean forward, hoping to see more clearly. A comically small head holds those large eyes. Thin tufts of fur sprout from its jowls and the top of its head. As it looks back at me, I see three distinct membranes slide over the shining orbs of its eyes like eyelids with varying degrees of opaqueness.

“What on earth?” The words slip unbidden from my lips.

‘Earth,’ a voice echoes through my head like thunder.

I put my hands up to shield my ears though I know it will not block the sounds coming from inside my head. The voice is not my own. It sounds tinny and un-modulated like robots in old movies. I take a step closer to the window.

“Did you…?” My muddled mind can’t form the rest of the question.

‘You,’ the voice echoes in my head.

This time it does not sound like a thunderclap. I can hear the voice clearly, but I find it hard to believe that is comes from anywhere but inside my head. The creature hasn’t moved except to tilt its head as if it is trying to understand my words.

“Do you understand what I am saying?”

‘ing?’

The eyelids blink, blink, blink again. Then they slowly begin opening, revealing the large dark eyes so hypnotically that I barely notice the squeal of the latch pushing against the wood. Still trapped in those eyes, I remain unaware as the window begins to rise. My mouth falls open as the eyes disappear behind the wooden frame of the window and a long snout uncurls into the room. Teardrop-shaped nostrils flare in and out as the window continues to rise until it slams against the top of the window frame.

“How did you do that?” I step back.

‘That,’ the voice echoes my final word again.

A mixture of fear and annoyance wars in my head as I pull my plush bathrobe closer around my own wrinkled form. The creature pulls itself over the windowsill with more grace than one would expect from such a short, stout body. It sits down on the windowsill, watching me carefully. As it stares at me, images begin to fill my mind. I see stars flying past me. Planets appear and disappear so swiftly that I am not sure if they are in our solar system or not. My head begins to spin from all of the information that flows into me. Moments later my head tilts again as the voice echoes through my skull again.

‘You will help me?’ The creature’s mouth moves as if saying the words, but no sound comes out.

“How are you doing that?”

‘You will help me?’ The voice pauses before filling the silence with another question. ‘Please?’

Sweat beads up on my forehead. My heartbeat feels uneven somehow. I slowly scuff my way backward to the overstuffed chair that sits by the fire, falling into it heavily.

“Help you? Who will help me?”

By this time, I am convinced that I have lost my mind. This bizarre creature can’t really be peering at me from his vantage point on my windowsill. It can’t. As I try to convince myself of the veracity of my own thoughts, the creature jumps down on long, spindly legs and lopes toward me. Too weary to move, I watch his approach anxiously. He slows down as he nears me, reaching out with large furry hands to take my left hand in his.

‘I’ll help you,’ the tinny voice almost sounds compassionate.

“How can you help me?”

‘You are old. You are afraid you will die before you have the answers you desire. I can promise you those answers if you will help me.’

Those large eyes mesmerize me again. I sink into them, slowly drowning in their dark depths. He blinks and I remain trapped. I still cannot speak.

‘Will you help me?’ The voice asks again.

“If you have the answers to my questions, why do you need my help?”

‘Because I cannot feel as you do.’

“I don’t understand.”

‘You should sleep. Hearing me as you do seems to take some toll on your strength. We will talk in the morning.’

The voice does not change into one more human yet it lulls me. I feel my eyes closing and my head falling heavily on my chest. I barely have time to wonder what the next day will bring before a dark, dreamless sleep overtakes me.