And so it was that there was a means to which I might travel when I needed to. I found it by accident while raiding my mind. Defiantly I rose to the occasion of what could be a challenge and dismissed morals screaming to me that I reconsider... The violent potential repercussions actions can ensue played harmoniously as background music heard only from the depths of my mind whilst I went to work checking the settings on control panel I myself had designed.
If what I was about to do was possible then soon the world it's self would change. Every scope of reality would become a blur and when I brought it back into focus I would find my time had been extended past what could be conceived. It would be 1994 again though in reality still present time. No one else will have memory of the years past and no evidence of it's existence will be left. I will be the only one left to remember and that's my advantage. If however I find this mechanism to have a fault, the universe will cease to exist.
I calibrated the dials one last time and set the unit on the ground. My mind was racing with the possibilities of time travel while my machine just made sounds. Creating such a racket I was sure others might hear I looked around to make sure no one was watching. Assure I was still alone I sat and waited for my program to load. At once there was a beep! I sat there staring at the machine, my complexion froze. I saw neither the past nor an explosion of any sort. Surely I had activated the device properly. Then at once it disappeared. I searched all over for it not understanding where else it might go.
The next morning I awoke on the ground face down in the grass. I must have searched for so long my mind had to sleep at last. At once a box caught my eye and I sprang up to converge on it. Doing so only shortened the time which passed before I realized it was only a package. But then I saw the label. It was addressed to me!
As I tore open the box and removed it's contents I was surprised to find it was a pair of gloves and a hat, from my mother. As I turned confused as to how they had reached me here in the park I was welcomed by a familiar face. It was my landlord, and in his hand he held out documents which I quickly deducted must also be mine. I recognized them before I read them, and knew they meant I was evicted. He explained before he left that my things were outside the doorstep, and I was seven months behind in my rent.
I asked him what year it was, though the answer was quite clear. He explained it was 94' and suggested I invest in a calendar. I told him he was funny and asked to be excused for not laughing. He merely smiled as he walked away. He knew it wasn't 94' and it gave him much pleasure to poke fun where fun need not be poked.
Quickly I asked him why he brought me this package and nothing else. He replied honestly that it was not he. Then he mentioned that it resembled what I was carrying last night when I went out.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Saturday night with Mark and Little Tim
Laughing like there was a stand up death match night at the comedy club with Robin Williams and Chris Rock both telling black jokes. I rolled out from behind the bench as my older brother told his friend he liked her. This was only funny because she started laughing at him. I had tried to hold it back myself but after about five minutes I realized she wasn't happy to hear this, but rather didn't take him seriously. That was funny all on it's own. Take into account that he was head over heels for this girl "friend" of his and it was hilarious.
As I rolled out from behind the bench my brother turned and walked away angry and upset, which only made me laugh harder. He was always doing this, meeting a girl and falling for her. Never did she return the feelings, and two times out of three she'd find it funny. I'm sure the third thought it was funny too but just managed to escape sight before bursting into laughter.
Suddenly though she got serious and called out to him to stop. He did almost hesitantly, as if it was his imagination. The look on her face seemed concerned, like everything that was so funny only moments ago all made sense now. He turned with tear streams in pause on his face, as though on hold until needed again. She looked at him and asked him if he was serious. He replied only with a node of approval. After that a moment passed where we all sat in silence. She was searching his face for something, any sign of dishonesty. Then all at once she smiled, and stood. He smiled too, and they walked off down the park trail holding hands and giggling like children.
I just lay there, staring into the darkness where they had vanished. That was the first time he'd gotten a girl to like him. Then I couldn't help it, I just started laughing again. I was thinking about what she'd do if he asked to touch her butt.
As I rolled out from behind the bench my brother turned and walked away angry and upset, which only made me laugh harder. He was always doing this, meeting a girl and falling for her. Never did she return the feelings, and two times out of three she'd find it funny. I'm sure the third thought it was funny too but just managed to escape sight before bursting into laughter.
Suddenly though she got serious and called out to him to stop. He did almost hesitantly, as if it was his imagination. The look on her face seemed concerned, like everything that was so funny only moments ago all made sense now. He turned with tear streams in pause on his face, as though on hold until needed again. She looked at him and asked him if he was serious. He replied only with a node of approval. After that a moment passed where we all sat in silence. She was searching his face for something, any sign of dishonesty. Then all at once she smiled, and stood. He smiled too, and they walked off down the park trail holding hands and giggling like children.
I just lay there, staring into the darkness where they had vanished. That was the first time he'd gotten a girl to like him. Then I couldn't help it, I just started laughing again. I was thinking about what she'd do if he asked to touch her butt.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Tuesdays with Jonathan.
As I sat, hunched forward in a gaze. My arms draped beside me and my eyes glazed. I watched him, carefully I watched what he did. His actions astonished me. What ever it was I saw him do. He looked tense, and was always hard at work. He looked over at me, from time to time with a scowl. I think he liked me, like I gave him something to do some how.
So I just sit on the bench and stare at him from across the park path. He kneels and grabs. Then pulls up whatever he has. He'd wave his hand around, or examine something closely. Every now and then something would require him to stand, and he'd take a deeper stab at it, with whatever tool he had in his hands. These tools he used were all in his head, my dad had said. I didn't believe that though. Tools can't be in your head, what good would tools do you there? He introduced me to his fish once, though I couldn't find it in the grass. He told me the fish's name was Chris, and that it didn't like carrots. I never talk to him though, because my dad told me not to. My dad told me he was mad, and that if I talked to him he might hurt me, and I didn't want that. So I just watched him work with things, and stared at him from the bench across the park path.
Sometimes he puts things in his bag. Though I never see these things that he has. All I see beneath him is grass, and I never see that in his hands. But still I follow his actions, and keep a watchful eye, you never know what he might find. Sometimes he jumps up and chases something fast, and it gets away. Then he returns to his work. At the end of the day he brushes off his pants and picks up his bag. Then he leaves, so I go home to eat and sleep. I know he won't be there tomorrow, he only works on Tuesdays.
So I just sit on the bench and stare at him from across the park path. He kneels and grabs. Then pulls up whatever he has. He'd wave his hand around, or examine something closely. Every now and then something would require him to stand, and he'd take a deeper stab at it, with whatever tool he had in his hands. These tools he used were all in his head, my dad had said. I didn't believe that though. Tools can't be in your head, what good would tools do you there? He introduced me to his fish once, though I couldn't find it in the grass. He told me the fish's name was Chris, and that it didn't like carrots. I never talk to him though, because my dad told me not to. My dad told me he was mad, and that if I talked to him he might hurt me, and I didn't want that. So I just watched him work with things, and stared at him from the bench across the park path.
Sometimes he puts things in his bag. Though I never see these things that he has. All I see beneath him is grass, and I never see that in his hands. But still I follow his actions, and keep a watchful eye, you never know what he might find. Sometimes he jumps up and chases something fast, and it gets away. Then he returns to his work. At the end of the day he brushes off his pants and picks up his bag. Then he leaves, so I go home to eat and sleep. I know he won't be there tomorrow, he only works on Tuesdays.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The crazy under the bench
Catching a ray from the sun and imprisoning it in my clutches an evil grin spreads across my face. Glowing light pleads for release through the cresses in my fingers. This time I will get away with it, only the girl can stop me now. I've taken care of her already however. There will be no interruptions this time.
The wind was blowing hard now in the park,
and because I'd caught the light everything was dark.
I tried to think if I knew why I would do what I was about to do.
But nothing came to mind, so I went on chanting the words,
the words to end all time.
When at last I'd finished, the sky opened up. Fire and lighting poured down from the heavens above. Suddenly there were people. They were running, and I liked what I saw. A little boy came running by, and he stopped for a moment. He knew what I'd done, and it scared him the most. He was no more then 10, and he looked like hed just seen a ghost. I laughed at the boy. Pointing my filthy gloved hand, and in the air rang the sound of my crackly laugh, raspy and harsh. The little boy ran.
When I awoke, all the world was the same. The people who passed still pointed and called me names. Laughing at me as I lay under the bench in the park only half aware. Only my hangover to comfort me, covered in newspapers to help me sleep. They point their fingers and mock me, calling me crazy. A little boy approaches me, and with a serious tone in his voice, says "Last night you destroyed the world, and I died." Somehow this bothered me, even though I knew he was just reading my mind. Then he snickered and ran away, telling his father that I was the crazy. The one who always dreamed of destroying the world.
The wind was blowing hard now in the park,
and because I'd caught the light everything was dark.
I tried to think if I knew why I would do what I was about to do.
But nothing came to mind, so I went on chanting the words,
the words to end all time.
When at last I'd finished, the sky opened up. Fire and lighting poured down from the heavens above. Suddenly there were people. They were running, and I liked what I saw. A little boy came running by, and he stopped for a moment. He knew what I'd done, and it scared him the most. He was no more then 10, and he looked like hed just seen a ghost. I laughed at the boy. Pointing my filthy gloved hand, and in the air rang the sound of my crackly laugh, raspy and harsh. The little boy ran.
When I awoke, all the world was the same. The people who passed still pointed and called me names. Laughing at me as I lay under the bench in the park only half aware. Only my hangover to comfort me, covered in newspapers to help me sleep. They point their fingers and mock me, calling me crazy. A little boy approaches me, and with a serious tone in his voice, says "Last night you destroyed the world, and I died." Somehow this bothered me, even though I knew he was just reading my mind. Then he snickered and ran away, telling his father that I was the crazy. The one who always dreamed of destroying the world.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Old and Dead
"Have you heard the news?" Asking no one while sitting in the park,
the old man did cry out. "It's my birthday and I'm turning..." stopping quietly in mid-sentence, with that he slumped over and fell away from the bench.
The passers by simply stepped around him while the birds paid him no attention at all. It didn't matter how old he was, nor was it of any importance how or why he died. The fact was he laid there now in the fetal position next to the bench. It was no question that he was dead, oh no. However if anyone should stop to do anything, that person might get in trouble. These days being anywhere near a crime scene or even calling in a death could get a person thrown into jail. Finger prints could link a person to the crime, then that person is a suspect, if no other conclusion is reached then that person is accused and while a good story may weigh heavily in their favor who knows how the judges day has been going. The judge may decide to end it all and have the person locked away for years until more evidence concludes their innocence.
Getting up slowly after a good five minutes had passed, the old man looked around baffled that he did not have a crowd, or even one person at his side. "You know in my day if a person died unexpectedly everyone ran to see if they could help!" He shouted clearly agitated. After having said his peace the old man sat back down on the park bench and waited there for a minute or two.
"Have you heard the news?" The old man shouted once more, clearly having forgotten the whole incident. "It's my birthday and I'm turning... eight.... no... nine-hundred and twelve!" Still looking confused yet sure of his math, "Oh what joy instant recovery from death has brought me." Speaking only to himself now, staring down at his feet as if to cry. "If only it wasn't too late, maybe then I wouldn't be so lonely..."
the old man did cry out. "It's my birthday and I'm turning..." stopping quietly in mid-sentence, with that he slumped over and fell away from the bench.
The passers by simply stepped around him while the birds paid him no attention at all. It didn't matter how old he was, nor was it of any importance how or why he died. The fact was he laid there now in the fetal position next to the bench. It was no question that he was dead, oh no. However if anyone should stop to do anything, that person might get in trouble. These days being anywhere near a crime scene or even calling in a death could get a person thrown into jail. Finger prints could link a person to the crime, then that person is a suspect, if no other conclusion is reached then that person is accused and while a good story may weigh heavily in their favor who knows how the judges day has been going. The judge may decide to end it all and have the person locked away for years until more evidence concludes their innocence.
Getting up slowly after a good five minutes had passed, the old man looked around baffled that he did not have a crowd, or even one person at his side. "You know in my day if a person died unexpectedly everyone ran to see if they could help!" He shouted clearly agitated. After having said his peace the old man sat back down on the park bench and waited there for a minute or two.
"Have you heard the news?" The old man shouted once more, clearly having forgotten the whole incident. "It's my birthday and I'm turning... eight.... no... nine-hundred and twelve!" Still looking confused yet sure of his math, "Oh what joy instant recovery from death has brought me." Speaking only to himself now, staring down at his feet as if to cry. "If only it wasn't too late, maybe then I wouldn't be so lonely..."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)