Monday, November 25, 2019

The Edge

The following very short story is connected to a short story I wrote in November 2016, a month before losing a chunk of my vision...

    He stands alone on the edge of the world.  He had traveled through the fog, losing more than his companion along the way.  Externally battered and bruised from the journey, he collapses onto the barren ground.  Internally drained of hope and desire, he whispers into the emptiness surrounding him. 

    "Where does one go when there is nowhere left to go?"  

    The question drifts through the hollow air, fading away into nothing. 

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out, 

P.S.  A different very short story... 

A Post-Modern Gothic Romance...


The Internationally-known* Bestseller** is still available to amuse, intrigue and shock!

*by some Americans & a few Europeans 
**compared to my other titles

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

How to Suck at Real Life: Soup & Sandwich Supposition

I was attending a Veterans Day soup and sandwich fundraiser with my sister and our dad when I got noticed.  This unexpected moment of recognition left me thinking, contemplating, examining and trying to understand myself.  I hate when this happens because it's typically a futile mental exercise without satisfactory conclusions. 

I was in line behind my sister and our dad.  The ham sandwich was already on the red tray gripped in my hands when I stepped up to the soup area.  One of the men dipping up the soups inquired if I wanted chicken noodle or chili, which wouldn't have given me pause but he called me by name.  This is hardly the first time a seeming stranger called me by name, but it's usually uttered by someone my dad's age, so I just assume it's one of his obnoxious cronies.  This man, from what my half-blind eyes could see, was in and around my age. 

I obviously had a perplexed look on my face because he mentioned he remembered me from school.  His voice was unfamiliar so I asked who he was.  My mind went into overdrive upon hearing this man's name, flipping through old mental files, but it was all in vain.  His name didn't register at all. 

I confessed that I didn't remember him.  He said it was okay and then explained he was behind me in grades at school.  I apologized for not remembering and he reiterated it was okay.  I then wandered on to the drinks and desserts area.  I didn't want to hold up the line, and, with my mind reeling, I wanted to find a seat and mentally calm down. 

As I sat there eating my soup and sandwich, and for the rest of the evening, I pondered this experience.  How could someone remember me?  Me?  I'm easily the least interesting and most forgettable person one could encounter in this life.  I don't say this in an "oh whoa is me" fashion.  I state it as cold, stoic belief.  Especially back in the hell of my public school days where I learned I was nothing and was rarely allowed to forget it.  

Then I berated myself for being so awkward during the brief exchange over the cooker of chili.  I played the most dangerous game of "Why didn't I...?"  Why didn't I say something nice or clever?"  I could've said, "Well it's nice to finally meet you."  The answer to this is simple.  I have serious trust issues with the residents of my town.  History has shown me how I don't fit in here and how more often than not, conversations end up being negative, so that's why I don't try anymore.  

I deliver papers with my sister, so I rarely interact with others, if I can avoid it.  I see my dad every so often and I occasionally briefly visit with the librarians, but that's about it on a semi-regular basis.  Most of my interactions, including others I know in real life, are of an online nature.  Tiny digital increments of human companionship to simulate life.  The 21st Century was built for maladjusted folk like me. 

So, in conclusion, this momentary spotlight made me question why I shelter in place, so to speak.  Though, ultimately, it doesn't matter because it's not going to change because I doubt I will change.  I'm hardwired to expect the worst from real life interactions within my small town and I don't know how to reprogram myself.

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out,