Rex

Rex was our overgrown Alsatian. When we took him into our house, he was a small pup. We never expected him to grow as large as he did. He was larger than me fully grown, which just took a year, his fur a thick black and brown. He was unwieldy, and we never bothered to train him properly. He was overly friendly and excitable, and his face always had a puppyish, innocent charm, believing that the world would never quite hurt you and that everyone wanted to play with you. However, his massiveness scared us. We would only go out when he was chained, and numerous times he would pursue us around the garden. When he leaned against the dining room gate, eyeing us as we ate, hoping for a bone to take away, one could see how he was still, essentially, a pup trapped in the body of a dog. Big as he was, he was afraid of thunder and lightning, howling to come in when rain descended, hoping to hide under a couch or sofa, as he had done so when he was a pup.

One day I was caught out in the garden. We were racing to the gate, trying to get out before Rex discovered us. But my older brother had locked it up. I shouted at my brother to open the door, but he kept it closed firm. Out zoomed Rex, alerted by my cries. He saw me at the gate and in his usual friendliness, jumped on me. I went down like I had been rugby tackled. Soon Rex was on me, licking and pawing. I was panicking, and probably screaming. But I couldn’t see he was just being playful and grew more afraid. Soon my grandmother, she who had been bitten by dogs so many times I couldn’t count, who fearlessly burnt down wasps’ nests and beat snakes to death, pulled Rex off me, hitting him fiercely. He didn’t understand why he was being punished. I rolled away, tears in my eyes.

About two years later, Rex died after being poisoned by thieves that broke into our house. He lied dead in the gutter, froth in his mouth. He had never grown to be obedient, or tone down his exuberance, but I still remember his staring through the metal grills of the doors, devotion and curiosity evident in the slow wag of his tail.

Cursed

The words that I want to say are buried. The situation defies all logic; the circumstances are as they are. I have seen the other woman, and I understand it even less. I have told him to leave, but he does not want to. Last weekend he said he took a business trip away, but I know the truth. A quick call to the office revealed that he was on leave. The lie was so blatant. I bury it all within me, the words burning within my heart and brain, threatening to set me alight.

On this day, I was happy. The elder boy had done well in class, and He smiled widely. If time ignored past and future, on this moment alone, I was content, jubliant, and proud. There was nothing of his affair to think about, no worry about what my too-soft hands would be able to provide. If I could, I would ask time to stop, the world halt its spinning, and ourselves be frozen there, as we watched him receive his award from the principal. We, putting up our front of proud loving parents, right in front of the school. Only a handful there knew of the tear between me and Him, the slowly widening gap, the cancer eating us out. The elder boy didn't dare look at us up on the stage, which just bothered me briefly. He was shy, painfully so. I clapped wildly, turning my hands red, two seconds after everyone had stopped. He reached over and clasped my left hand, and I pulled it out when he tried to grip my fingers, and I knew time had seized hold again, along with consequence.

No more

No more the scent of your hair. No more wondering why you suddenly wake up in the night tossing suddenly, shouting some words before falling asleep again. No more whispering in your ear as you dream. No more the kiss on your forehead and eyebrows. No more listening, no more hearing. No more wondering how I could stop your tears. Everything is now the past, and it is another country that is disappearing beneath the horizon, as we journey on. Love is gone, and nothing remains.

Fragment no 52421

You're still in love with the one who broke your heart.

Afterlife

When Joe died in that car crash he expected to wind up at the gates of Heaven, or at worst, hell; not the apartment of Jane, his ex-girlfriend. But he was lodged there and couldn't exit the place. He watched her mourn his loss, not without a twinge of satisfaction. So you do miss me. He floated around her like a ghost, but utterly unable to communicate with her. He watched her grief, and occasionally his heart ached for her. He wanted to reach out to her and tell her it was all right. He was still around, though he didn't know why. Maybe it was her yearning for him that kept him on this earth?
But Jane did get over it, after about a month. She said she'd wear black for a year, but was putting on blue in a month, and pink two weeks after. Joe felt outraged. But what was he to say? Then there were the other men. He would resist going into the bedroom, and just stare at the visitor's shoes while sitting on the sofa in the living room, trying to shut his ears to her loud moans and screams. He wished he could at least turn the newspaper, or watch the television, to shut it out.
As he tried his best to use the remote, another voice beside him spoke. "Gets to you doesn't it?" Joe turned and saw another translucent spirit like himself. It was Simon, Jane's ex-lover, who had drowned in a boating accident while drunk. Since there was not much to do after death, Simon told Joe his afterlife story. He had been here four years, trapped in this apartment, and just like him, hearing the constant change of lovers. "This is hell," Simon said. "I bet they ran out of space down there and Lucifer been dissing out punishment as he deems sufficient. I bet they put rockstars in elevators listening to muzak, zookeepers in vegetable gardens, pilots in sunken ships and so on, ya bet?" And Simon wasn't alone, there was also Thomas. The first boyfriend of Jane, died one night after stumbling over some packed crates and falling right into the path of oncoming traffic.
"She's got the curse, our Jane," said Thomas, who remained a 15-year old boy, with a gentle smile. "I'm her first love, and she's not forgotten me. That's why I'm here."
"Well I damn well want to go," said Joe. "She was nice, but she wasn't the one for me. I love her, but I don't think I could MARRY her. That's in a different universe altogether you know. I don't think she wanted to marry me either. We were only together like...six months."
"Seven," said Simon. "Seven months. And three days."
"Why did you come over here so often?"asked Thomas.
"I..I stay with my parents," said Joe.
"Ah yes, guess you can't have the old folks hearing that!" gestured Joe.
So the three of them sat on the couch, listening to her. Thomas, the proper boy, would occasionally cover his ears, but if ghosts could shed tears, Joe know he would. Simon just looked bored, saying he would talk about the weather if it mattered, but it didn't. And Joe looked towards the bedroom door, wondering about Jane, and how long he would have to stand this torture before departing this dead world.

Emily Green

The bear turned to her and said "Thank you. It doesn't have to be now, nor tomorrow, but when you feel you are ready," it said.

Emily went home, and thought about everything. She spoke to Jules, her cat, who just purred as she spoke. It seemed more intent on having a meal.

Emily Green and the Dancing Bear

Every afternoon, Emily Green would wander around the park. She would feed the fishes in the pond, or the pigeons in the yard, or the squirrels in the trees (if she bought nuts).

Next to the pond was Old Man Garth, who played an accordion and kept a bear that danced along as he played. People would toss coins as Garth played. The bear was kept on a chain, and made to wear a frilly thing around its neck. Emily could not stand to watch the performance, but one day as she was passing by on her way to feed the pigeons, the bear called out to her, knowing that she could understand it.

"Emily, I know you. Please, I need my freedom. I was a cub when I was caged up. I want to feel the icy waters of the river flow beneath my feet. To see the leaves of trees turn from green to red as the season changes from summer to autumn. To walk on soft ground and dig up earthworms. Please Emily. You are the only one who can make me free."

Emily nodded to the bear, even as the audience watching the performance clapped and threw coins. She whispered to the bear, "I will free you, Mr Bear."

Emily Green

Somewhere in the world there is a City, self-important, full of people trying to master time, where smog and noise cloud the streets. On the edge of the city was a great wilderness, forgotten and often alone, which it prefered.

In the city lived Emily Green, a young girl who did not have the prettiest face, the sharpest mind, nor the most engaging smile, but she did have the kindest heart of all in the city. And because she had the kindest heart, the birds came to wake her up in the morning, passing dogs would bow wow and ask her 'how do you do' in the day, and the moon and stars would sing her to sleep at night. Emily Green loved nature, and nature loved her, but the city is always out to break hearts, especially the ones of those that are kind, like Emily Green.

(To be continued...)