I didn’t think twice when I saw it
The end of the season and the ritual incomplete
But you both had always been each other’s nemesis
What else would be new
So let’s see what a new season brings
Though I’m growing weary of the same routine
That wearing thin schtick
When I saw this episode in the towel I threw
I threw in the towel on watching anymore
Nine seasons would suffice
Actually more than enough
He could have died
Let it be written let it be done
Let it be
The demon made human
Interesting could have been his life
If the producers wanted to push it so
I wouldn’t have cared
Wanting him dead more times than I could count
In the way a demon dies
Relief and release
It should have ended and for me it did
You could have gone back to that place
The boys home
And to the one you’d fallen in love with
At sweet 16
Enough turmoil had passed for you to live your dream
Now was your time
And the series could have ended in dignity
As far as I knew
My opinion as such
But seasons march on
I’ve seen enough
Not sure what happened but the word document is a different size. How do I get it full screen? Why did it change? I hate it when this happens or maybe I’ll like it better.
Coffee’s up. Thank goodness for that.
An eerie silence when I first opened the door for that precious cool morning air. There’s nothing to fear from me. Wouldn’t harm a kitten but I will swat a fly. Only an idiot lets flies buzz around. Dirty germ-carrying things. Chirping had stopped, units stopped running, almost deafening straining to hear any sound but it’s over now. Units kicked on, birds chattering again, the smell of coffee fills the apartment, fan’s on low all meaning it was a simple moment of silence or it’s here, whatever it is though I certainly didn’t invite it.
Think I’ll pour.
Then again I thought because the word document had changed I was somewhere else, that indicated something had happened. Whatever it is says I should write. Am I not supposed to notice? All realms should know how aware I am and the document not covering the entire screen will tell me something. I mean duh. Higher beings indeed! I always said ‘space’ was the distance between two ears and has nothing to do with traveling through galaxies. I’m glad I got that off my chest.
Now I am getting up to pour.
The sky too dark
Where is my light
Of course there’s no sun
Too early for that
Navy should become powder
No, not so but clear
By degrees not too soon
Night is over now
The horizon lined orange
Defining the trees
Bold background begins
I glanced up and caught a glimpse of eyes but he closed them quickly so I’d think I am alone. In the hallway, watching. Told you I’m too aware for that. It’s here, but I’ll be cool. Soon enough it’ll be bright. I’ll watch something in the meanwhile pretending I don’t know, didn’t see.
Falling asleep as I type. Opened them again catching a glimpse of small white eyes peering at me. It realized I saw and shut them again. Desperate I turn around to find my sky and it’s light enough.
Putting ‘The Birdcage’ on now…
She felt a sting near the knot tied at her hip. Absentminded she brushed and settled into the chaise and the second sting. “What the…” she brushed again, glanced at her side but it was at her back with another sting. “What…” she sprung sitting up twisted and turned. On the towel was a curled up fuzzy bit of something that’d earned getting brushed off the deck completely. “I come out early before any flying stinging creatures begin buzzing around in a stupor from the heat. Who invited you? How early do I have to get out here” and she settled back one last time. “It better be…”
An hour later she came in her body burning dripping sweat. “Shower.” On the way the bits of her lack of swimsuit were peeled and dropped over the hallway fan. “We’ll do this again tomorrow.” The water was adjusted to a hair above lukewarm, she stepped in inhaling relief as her heart rate relaxed from intense heat but at the same time she felt strange, a strange sensation devouring her from the head down like a beak closing over her piercing. She screamed a caw from a raw throat and thought she must be burning, something happened in the apartments, someone was careless, then jumped out grabbing a shirt from the closet in case it were necessary to run outside. The pain wouldn’t stop and she twisted throwing herself through the window and soared. “I’m in the air. How am I in the air…” She opened her eyes gliding above the houses, grounds, trees but staying just below the clouds, the shirt she’d pulled over herself with the big WTF that usually teased cleavage was now full abreast waving in the breeze, her wings spread through the capped sleeves. “How is this possible? This is so cool.” Then she saw him running into an open area. He looked up at her extending a leather clad arm, “come back!”
“Who the hell… Ha, I think not. WTF appropriately so…” she pushed like a swimmer would to pick up speed and soared higher feeling something give way inside as his head to his arm were covered in a whitish-brown spatter. “Look what I did” she cackle-cawed. “That’s supposed to be good luck you know.” Something glittered golden in the sun on her claw as she mused WTF strikes again. She lunged for speed and it snapped like a weak thread. Caught in the breeze it turned up revealing a dainty engraved oval. “Plated, wouldn’t you know” shaking it off she flew.
“Wonder when this wears off. Can I change when… ? How… ? Oh, that’s right, grilled fresh tuna and cut up a salad… tonight… Guess I’ll find out.”
“Albinos! Why didn’t I think of that before! Albinos are the natural day walkers with their natural super sensitivity to the sun. It all makes perfect sense. Cast them as the new race but with a little something extra like the children from the ‘City Of The Damned’, a murderous torturous side as opposed to those whose whole face opens to suck the life out of their prey. Vampires who experiment on vampires to create the master race, as petty as humans sacrificing their children although the coldness makes sense but there is so much passion in making another. In keeping with tradition sunlight gets the better of everyone one way or another. It might be interesting to be able to psychically drain the blood from a victim as opposed to forcing them to hurt themselves making these new vamps who’ve naturally evolved a threat like no other. Snipers? High acuity opening up a new door as to how to stop them. Should they be able to drain the blood from super slayers, should there be an issue with that, should it be hopeless? Psycho-thriller vampires you can never get rid of worse than Michael Myers giving a whole new meaning to when blood runs cold, cold-blooded, yes and yes. Brilliant!”
Now all Marie had to do was sell the flood of ideas to Jeff and Christof.
“Was I a vampire in a past life? Why are mornings so offensive or at least I used to think so when I was younger. How I loved the night and never wanted the sun to come up. That’s definitely food for thought. Somehow over time I evolved to a day-walker. I love getting up early as the sun rises, even going out on the balcony to feel its warmth. I tan pretty good. Geez, why am I so groggy? Whatever I was in the past I know I wasn’t overindulging in blood last night. Sinus nosebleeds are bad enough besides I hate the taste of blood anymore. The blood is the life, ha, what does Dracula know anyway. They killed him he’s dead, so much for immortality. Yeah, if I don’t nod out typing this I’m definitely making coffee. Huh, when I yawn the keyboard gets blurry. Too dumb to go back to sleep… and I need another tissue. At least the coffee will cover the taste of blood running down my throat.”
Crazy thoughts or not but can I turn them into a story – forever the million dollar question.
What I know is I’m enjoying the cool breeze for now; later on it’s going to be in the 90s and I’ll get the espresso pot percolating shortly. My gosh I can’t stop yawning. That crazy dream I had last night. Was there a message? It’s lost if there were, I can’t recall it at all but I dreamt. I know I did. Had to do with that movie, the obsessive boyfriend-husband, his secret lock box, and not wanting to leave the lake they went to for their honeymoon, devil’s lake. Can’t help but wonder if he didn’t kill his father but the tension was building and I had to stop watching. Maybe I’ll pick up on it with renewed stamina, stamina. I’m so groggy
In media of in media res, realities blur, and the million-dollar question remains.
The first cardinal rule in Philosophy is never assume. Isn’t it amazing in a very sad way that’s what most people do from just a glance and what piss-poor attitudes they have when it turns up they’re dead wrong? What makes it worse is everyone else’s attitude toward the assumptor / assumptorette when it becomes apparent there was 100% no truth anywhere. The vanity scale goes through the roof but there’s no one else to blame, after all; you’re the bonehead who believed without knowing a damn thing, without instinct or thought process. Is there a lecture in this? Nah, but Petra’s mind was still rattled from the last staff meeting. “Does she honestly think we’ll all believe she’s that kind of intuitive, like a mystic or something and we’ll fear our thoughts because she’ll know them before we even think them? She’s in our minds is she? If it’s a joke it’s a bad one.” The director had opened the meeting with a shocking revelation in her menopausal mind state to startle everyone into unquestionable obedience and servitude through fear. She knew everyone’s thoughts. She knew what everyone was thinking without speaking. Intangible objective knowing was simply her state of being, her job. The other side of that bad joke was Emma, the lead on the floor who got caught taking 30-minute 10-minute breaks, using her laptop to write a book instead of doing her job, and utilizing the office equipment to print everything off. She had actually gone on a tirade blaming Petra for her actions although at first it seemed like generalizations of bad excuses. It turned out it was her fault because she was efficient on the floor. She got so much work done so well that it burdened Emma and left her no other choices. There was just nothing left to do. The kicker was the director allowed it to be dumped in Petra’s lap. She hadn’t even realized it until the director’d asked, “Does anyone have anything to say?” Petra had been listening and thinking how glad she was this catty, petty complaining had nothing to do with her to get sucker-punched with a baseball bat that the meeting wasn’t an emergency staff meeting but her personal lynching trial. The director was looking right at her as Emma ranted on about how she wasn’t going to apologize to her for her abusive language and berating in front of the staff and students. “You aren’t paying attention”, the director had said. “I am… I’m listening.” “Do you have anything to say?” Petra was briefly stumped. “Well, I had no idea this was going to turn out to be a meeting about me.” Her voice cracked a little. The director and Emma thought for sure they had her. What they didn’t understand was it wasn’t an indication they were breaking Petra down, she was pissed, mortified at the utter absence of professionalism with the open-door policy permitted that if there was a complaint about another co-worker to come to the director’s office and tell her. Instead of diffusing the director would go to the person complained about and level accusations. It was as bad as allowing catfights as opposed to cockfights. The facility was run by women. There would be none of those although some of them thought they had spiritually acquired the specific appendage. “What’s next, inviting people in off the streets to place bets?”
One thing Petra knew and had been observing since she was a kid, “You learn a lot about people when they think you’re weak or stupid.” Didn’t most of them love to think she was stupid or they each were lord over her? Oh yes, they sure did. “Let them have go. Hopefully I’ll survive it.” She knew, well suspected already but would find out exactly what was running this place. If she played it right, it might just get its long time coming spring-cleaning.
Walking along I came to the end of a rainbow. “Well damn!” I thought surprised though there should be a pot of gold, well; at least in all the stories I’d read. “Isn’t there supposed to be a pot of gold, and King Brian, where’s King Brian?” He stood taller than me, had he been by the tree I wasn’t sure but strong built, a non-threatening air and welcome said his grin. I looked up at him into smiling eyes. They did, well, they were. I couldn’t help thinking, “fuck me it’s true; he’s taller than I tho…”
I stirred and saw he was sitting lighting his pipe. With a leg extended he gave a kick. A jingle sounded like coins falling on the ground. So distracted by his eyes he tilted his head, I followed his gaze and looked. It was a small pot but not a cauldron, nothing for brew… well, not that kind. His arm around me gently pulled me close in, “well now it has been quite a night…”