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Bride of the Ocean

SYNOPSIS: Nat Banyon, a man who has been away from his home by the shoreline for several months now returns in the hopes of being reunited with his friends and loved ones and to return to the same exact life that he left.

Warning: There is a weak sex scene in this, but still, a weak sex scene is a sex scene all the same, so viewer discretion should be advised.

 

The nurse gently pushed me out through the doors and into the light of the sun, the wheelchair bumping along the stairs before reaching the concrete tiles below. Trees rustled around me whilst the wind licked eagerly at their leaves. Numerous vehicles could be seen driving by on the road before me, the bus pulling up in front of the curb. It was a terrific yellow in colour that perfectly matched the sun above, whilst at the same time I grimaced as the nurse unbuckled the strap across my waist.
‘Now you take it easy Nat’ said the nurse, her short blonde hair blowing across her face. ‘That was a nasty hit you took son. We don’t want you back here anytime soon.’ She pushed the hair out from her eyes, revealing the small freckles that were placed evenly across her cheeks.
‘Don’t worry Jody, I won’t need anybody to hold my hand where I’m going’ I said with a smile. ‘Home is where the heart is, that is what they say and I know mine like the back of my hand.’ I smiled to myself before becoming deadly serious once more. ‘I am going to miss you though. You and the rest of the staff’
‘That’s sweet Nat’ said Jody, pointing in the direction of my transport. ‘Hurry along now, or you’ll miss your bus.’
With one last smile I made my way from the wheelchair with my small bag of belongings and up the steps into the interior of the bus. I walked to the back where there was still plenty of space, the trip home giving me the chance to think over all that had happened thus far to make me land in this situation.
Nat Banyon’s the name. I have jet black hair that seems rather irregular for somebody who grew up living on the beach as the generalisation is that every such person like me has to have hair that is light in colour. I have dark brown eyes that look like the coral that is found down on the ocean’s surface and a face and body that has basically been crafted by the ocean.
I originally came from a beach up north, which is where I was headed back to now. Surfing had been my life and Chloe Rivers, the most beautiful girl in school had been my life’s passion. Yet in life there was always competition and in my case it came in the shape of Tyrese Lowman. Not only did he want to be the best surfer, but he wanted my girl as well. That bastard!
Long story short, I wanted to put him in his place and so, we raced. Problem was, not everything went according to plan. On the final wave that would have undoubtedly made me look incredibly awesome in comparison to Tyrese, I was flipped over on my board by an unsuspecting freak wave, slamming my head on a gargantuan rock sticking out of the drink. I don’t remember what happened next, or how the race turned out. All that springs to mind is my body lying on the beach, seaweed in my hair and the bitter taste of salt in my mouth. I didn’t know anything; not my name, not my social security number, but worse of all, I didn’t know Chloe. This alternate version of me was bloody ridiculous in comparison to the original Nat.
Suddenly out of the blue this lime green hippie van pulls out of nowhere and suddenly I’m riding with them. I know it sounds out of this world, but when you’ve no memory the first thing that occurs to you feels like it was the kind of thing you were doing your entire life. I should be glad it wasn’t the manure truck that showed up. Anyway, I end up in their band, lead guitarist and later even background vocals, singing songs about how we hated surfers and loved trees, but especially about sex. Actually, come to think of it, that’s probably what all the lyrics were about really.
I wasn’t very good at singing, but hey, nobody heard me over the blare of the other instruments. Besides, most people came to check out the lead singer, Wynona, this Goth wannabe constantly dressed in black, half her face covered by a unicorn tattoo. Unbeknown to any of the spectators though, she was with me. I know, it sounds terrible, but since I had no memory of Chloe, Wynona seemed like the perfect girl. Now that I think about it though, it scares the crap out of me.
Yet, she was always there though, Chloe. She came to nearly every concert, presumably waiting for my memory to return. She once came up to talk to me, but I shut her down, saying ‘go away surfer chick, we don’t want you here.’  It was later that I came to realise how I had hurt Chloe, after my memory was restored. Well, to an extent anyway.
During this guitar solo this glass bottle is thrown at the stage and hits me square in the head. A few minutes later after the grogginess begins to dissipate, I open my eyes and see Chloe leaning over me. ‘Surfer chick’ I say.
‘Surfer dude’ she replies, the two of us embracing one another.
Anyhow, afterwards I check myself into this hospital to get my memory back and to ensure there is no permanent damage to my brain from the injuries I sustained. Then, I’m sprung free and on my way back to civilisation. I only hope it’s the way I left it. I told Chloe not to visit me. I didn’t want her to see me until I was one hundred per cent once more. God, I bet she looks great!

Upon stepping off the bus and onto the pavement of the town I called home I instantly felt a sense of calm, everything appearing to be exactly the same as I had left it. The stores had not moved out, the fashion had remained the same and even the smell of beach side orange juice and surfer’s gel clung to the air as I smiled to myself before making my way up the street, bag slung over my right shoulder.
I quickly found myself at the local surf store located beside the beach, the gentle pounding of the waves drifting over to where I stood. It sounded as though the ocean was beckoning me back into Poseidon’s graces once more, as though I had never actually left.
My eyes wandered through the maze of necessary surf utensils to the counter where Chloe currently stood, resting her arms on the cabinets beneath her. As predicted, she looked spectacular. Her long blonde hair drifted across the counter, shining under the fluorescent lighting above. Her blue eyes glittered like icicles; her lips moist like the ocean itself; her radiant skin looking like a paradise waiting to be explored. She wore a short red shirt, her black bikini visible beneath it, whilst her brief denim shorts stuck to her body like glue. Looking up she saw me, a smile appearing on her face.
Before I had a chance to move however Tyrese appeared behind her, a dark scowl descending across his features. His tanned skin looked like barren rock under the flare of the lighting, his face resembling that of a caged gorilla. As always he had his shirt unbuttoned at the top to allow ladies to see his three chest hairs. Nothing had changed. He had done the exact same thing back in high school.
Luckily enough though it appeared Chloe was still my one and only girl. God, I just wanted Chloe to throw her legs around my waist so I could rush her over to my place and show her over the course of a few good hours my feelings for her had not changed in the months I’d being away.
I slowly walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist whilst staring at Tyrese who looked as though he had something on his mind.
‘Glad you could make it Nat’ he said in a deep, throaty voice. ‘We were all hoping you’d arrive in time for the annual surfing competition tomorrow.’
Chloe looked at me as though she were trying to warn me about the repercussions of my last surf championship.
‘But I’d understand if you’re not man enough to go through with it’ guffawed Tyrese.
‘No’ I grunted suddenly, Chloe appearing surprised, pulling away. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Noticing the signup sheet on the counter I picked up the biro and scrawled my signature amidst all the other wannabe surfing champions. ‘While I was away I spent a gargantuan period of time swimming in the gymnasium pool. I’m ready for a real challenge.’
‘Glad you didn’t lose your reckless attitude when you lost your mind’ grunted Tyrese, ‘see you tomorrow.’
Chloe shook her head as Tyrese walked away, before ushering me out of the store and in the direction of my place.

Upon arriving home Chloe mentioned that she had cleaned my place on a weekly basis since I had left in preparation for my heroic return. She appeared to be doing her best to keep her fears of tomorrow at bay and I did my best not to bring them up. When Chloe went to hug me once more she quickly pulled away after getting a whiff of my clothing. I smelt clean and fresh, whilst she smelt of the ocean. It was absolutely irresistible.
She loathed the hospital smell that lingered in my clothing and insisted on me ripping them off, removing most of the garments herself before rushing me into the shower and turning on the pressure as high as the aging taps would allow, the cold water drenching me from head to toe. It was like a full de-tox, any of the old which had been orchestrated by the knocks to the head being irreparably erased in a single moment in time as I felt the same old me beginning to come back to true form.
As the water ran through my hair and across my body I heard the creaking sound of the shower door opening once more. Chloe slowly clambered inside before closing the door behind her, her naked body joining mine in the midst of the moist arena surrounding us. Her breasts gently rocked from side to side, whilst her hair covered up her nipples which I slowly but surely removed before caressing that particular part of her body. She pushed her flawless body up against me as I felt a part of my body beginning to grow considerably hard as I dragged her face closer to mine before kissing passionately in the confines of the shower. Our mouths filled with both the water from the taps and the salvia from our mouths as I sucked gently upon her tongue, Chloe doing the same thing to mine. She pushed up against me once more and I felt myself beginning to enter her, such an exhilarating experience I had wanted to have happen again since the moment I had arrived in hospital, the mist from the warm water that began to make its way through the taps banning all from seeing inside.

The next day came so fast I barely had time to catch my breath before I suddenly found myself on the beach only minutes before my final showdown with Tyrese.
‘I hope you haven’t lost that fire which made you such a challenging opponent’ he grunted.
‘Not a chance of that ever occurring mate’ I said, ‘not in this lifetime anyway.’
It was a few seconds later after a rush of cool air washed over me that Tyrese said ‘I married Chloe.’
I stood flabbergasted at such words, my mouth opening before I closed it abruptly, unable to believe such a sentence. I was surprised that if it were true why Chloe had not informed me.
‘You’re lying’ I said.
‘Yeah’ said Tyrese. ‘But you know that I would have. If she had let me I mean. You know that I love her, just as you do. So I was thinking we could make this race a little more interesting, just between the two of us. The winner not only gets the respect of the crowd, but wins the heart of Chloe Rivers. The loser packs up his crap and leaves town, forever; which is exactly what you should have done in the first place.’
I shook my head. This was preposterous. I knew instantly there was no way I was ever going to agree to such lunacy, even if he was playing off my massive ego which came with professional surfer territory. There was no way I was going to risk the love of Chloe over some competition that I had already won numerous occasions before. Looking up into Tyrese’s face I smiled, pitying him for such desperate methods. I knew exactly what mattered in life and winning some surf competition was not one of them as I looked into the crowd, my eyes landing directly on Chloe, before I grinned in satisfaction.
‘I forfeit’ I said, turning around to Tyrese before beginning to leave the arena in exchange for a life with the girl of my dreams. Had I made the right choice?

Absolutely.

Lion Heart

SYNOPSIS: A young man attempts to come to terms with the fact that the woman of his dreams is arranged to be married by her parents to another man.

Gregory Wiseman lay in a hospital bed in the recovery ward, his face covered in a multitude of scars and abrasions from intensive trauma. He had light brown coloured hair and dark brown eyes. His cheeks were normally a dull red in colour, but today were particularly bright from the abrasions he had received. Tubes ran out from his nose and an additional tube ran from his vein to a drip, his heart and pulse rate being lower than optimal as he slowly breathed in and out. His eyes were closed whilst in the unconscious state he was in, his body completely motionless as he lay with his head propped up against a pillow. How did he manage to get into such a critical state? The answer for this remained in his past…

Gregory had always had feelings for Lisa. To him she was both mentally and physically beautiful. She had dark, curly hair and big round eyes that were brown in colour. She had a radiant glow to her skin and her smile was to die for. Not only this, but she was incredibly intellectual in many different subjects.
So when he asked her if she wanted to begin seeing him socially it just seemed like the natural thing to do and when she agreed to have a relationship with him he was over joyed.
The reaction Augustus, Lisa’s father had however was quite the opposite. Augustus had jet black hair that was shoulder length in appearance, a few gray hairs beginning to appear. His eyes were a cold, black in colour and his nose was rather large upon his aging, yellow coloured face. His mouth was often open in a snarl and he spoke with a strong accent that made him often appear twice as angry.
‘How dare you go against your family like this!’ he roared when he managed to extract the news from his daughter. ‘Lisa, you are my only daughter and I love you, which is why I expect the best for you. Having a relationship with this Anglo is not the answer. That is why we orchestrated for you to be engaged to Mathieu. You do remember him don’t you? He is one of us, Lisa. That is how we preserve our culture, by marrying into families of our same heritage, not by desecrating our family name and completely and barbarically humiliating us by having a relationship with some ocker. Your mother and I did not immigrate to this country for you to marry some Australian prick. We came for the opportunities it would hold for you. Now you are better than this Anglo. Which is why in two weeks time you shall be united with Mathieu and the two of you can start your lives together.’
Lisa had tried to protest against this and had even attempted to get her mother, Maria’s help, but neither attempts to change her father’s mind succeeded. Her mother too felt it was the best thing Lisa could do, although she of course did not wish to anger her husband and take the side of the one person who could embarrass them by bringing home a person who was not of their culture.
Maria herself had jet black hair like her husband which was always tied back in a bun as to ensure it made its way straight down the very centre of her back. She had large, jet black eyes that seemed to not properly belong to the rest of her person, whilst great red lips were placed upon her face that too seemed to exceed the size that was meant for her.
When Lisa had to reluctantly renege on the date Gregory had offered her he was considerably shocked and badly hurt by this sudden change of heart. He attempted to ask her about this immediate change, but Lisa decided not to tell him the truth, believing he would not be able to properly understand nor comprehend.
Two weeks later, just like her father had promised, Mathieu arrived. He was a tall muscular man that seemed to have an interior train of thought, i.e. he only ever thought of himself. He had dark brown eyes and hair that was always drenched in bodily fluid and had a rather tanned body. He walked around wearing a muscle top and a rumor was that back home he walked around with a bare chest. He had large ears that did not properly seem to suit him, making him look as though he was about ready to take off and fly away at a moment’s notice. His stomach too seemed inappropriately large, making it seem as though he was the kind of man who really enjoyed his beer. There was also the rumor that he had been married several times before, the women who had managed to break the relationship off with him never supplying satisfactory reasons as to why they wanted to be rid of him. They just wanted the relationship to end. Although a man who had been divorced numerous times was seen as a disgraced individual, he was still worth marrying into.
When Lisa turned twenty two she thought she was old. Mathieu however was forty six, leaving Lisa feeling incredibly young by comparison. What put Lisa off most about the man she was expected to marry was not just his physical appearance nor his age, but the lack of English he knew. It was true that she was fluent in both her native tongue as well as in the English dialect, but her English skills far exceeded the knowledge she knew of her own native language.  She did of course bring up this dispute with her father who simply waved it away as he managed the wedding arrangements with Mathieu, who would become an Australian citizen immediately after the marriage had been initiated.
Mathieu himself felt offended at his future wife’s slanderous comments towards his ability to speak English, instantly saying in a heavy Greek accent ‘I can to speak your English! Sea shells sea shells by the sea shore! How much wood could a wood chopper chop if a wood chopper could chop wood?’ He seemed remarkably pleased with himself. Lisa however, was not.
Her opinions appeared however to be invalid though and from then on she was forced to escort her future husband around the environment to get him to know the region.
Gregory occasionally noticed them traversing the city and eventually decided to go to Lisa’s house to find out exactly what was going on. Upon knocking on the door she answered, seeming almost relieved to have a distraction from what was currently occurring in her life, her face having a distinct sadness to it.
‘It took me years to sum up the courage to express to you my feelings’ admitted Gregory, holding a bouquet of flowers out to her. ‘The least you can do is explain to me why you can’t be with me.’
‘I am sorry Gregory’ she said, ‘but I am currently with someone else.’
‘Really?’ he probed. ‘Perhaps you could have told me this before agreeing to go out with me.’
‘I wasn’t engaged then as I am now’ said Lisa, looking as though she didn’t wish to express her current marital status out loud.
‘You’re engaged?’ asked Gregory bewildered. ‘And here I was hoping I might still have a chance to spend the rest of my life with you.’
‘I’m sorry’ said Lisa sadly. ‘You’re really sweet, but I’m afraid we just can’t be together.’
With that, the door closed in Gregory’s face as he began to make his way back towards the side walk, before stopping suddenly and spinning around. ‘Lisa Tsarios!’ he cried at the top of his lungs. ‘I am in love with you and from now until the day I die I will continue to be! And before that moment does indeed transpire, I will marry you and cherish you forever!’
He made his way back whence he came after saying this, a plan already in motion inside his mind.
Whilst inside the house, it was not only Lisa who had heard what Gregory had cried.
‘Who was that idiot?’ spluttered Augustus angrily. ‘Doesn’t that Anglo prick have anyone else he could annoy at this time of day? Doesn’t he know we have a wedding to prepare?’
‘If he comes round here again I’ll kill him!’ cried Mathieu in a Neanderthal-like tone.
Lisa however didn’t hear any of this. She was far too busy being swept away by the comment that Gregory had just made to her whilst she lay in her bed, smiling at the idea of being married to him.
Over the next month Gregory began to show to Lisa exactly how he felt. On numerous mornings flowers were deposited at her door which her father chucked out post haste, the remnants of them often found in the trash receptacle. These she dusted off before applying them in a glass of water and suspending them in her room.
Love letters and romanticised poems were placed inside her mail box, both her father and Mathieu ripping these into smithereens. Mathieu often read them beforehand though, which simply made him even madder. On a couple of occasions however he quite liked the verses and read them to Lisa, attempting to pass them off as his own to make his future wife feel more comfortable with the idea of marrying him. However, she could always see through his lies, knowing full well who had written them, finding the prose to be quite beautiful.
One university morning a broadcast was made, specifying for those who had burnt the phrase ‘I love Lisa Tsarios’ into the front lawn to come forth, Lisa giggling upon hearing this announcement which no one ever admitted to.
During a class PowerPoint presentation which students found incredibly boring, Lisa suddenly became attracted to the fourteenth slide which the two students giving the presentation swore they had never inserted. The words on the slide specified ‘I love Lisa Tsarios 4 life’, the class finding this to be the most amusing part about the assignment. The students giving the presentation managed to obtain eighty five per cent of the expected mark for their project.
Later that same week, Lisa was making her way back to her car and discovered a note attached under one of the windscreen wipers which indicated for her to make her way to the park.
Upon arriving, Lisa found a picnic site had been erected, Gregory making his way out from behind her and presenting her with a bouquet of flowers which she took with a dazzling smile. Together they sat down to eat the food that Gregory had prepared, just as Mathieu happened to drive past. He had only recently begun to learn how to drive in Australia and often did so with a huge smile on his face, believing that such a talent was the most amazing thing he had ever accomplished. ‘You see, I am Australian enough already?’ he could be often heard saying as he drove past the houses in the neighborhood. 
On this one occasion however, no such words were to come from his lips. He instantly stopped the car and stormed over to Lisa, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her away.
‘How dare you humiliate me like this!’ he roared, his English becoming only slightly better. ‘I see the only way to stop this absurd behaviour is to stop it at the source.’ With that, he proceeded to hit Gregory who fell flat to the ground, blood rolling down his face as Mathieu continued to brutalise him, smiling as he did so.
‘Stop!’ cried Lisa, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘Mathieu, I won’t marry you!’
At these words Mathieu stopped and stood to his feet, Gregory lying motionless on the ground beside him.
‘I love him more than I could ever love you!’ shouted Lisa, throwing the engagement ring she had been forced to wear over the past month directly at Mathieu who reluctantly left after kicking Gregory’s motionless body once more.
Lisa proceeded to call the ambulance service, riding in the emergency vehicle with Gregory as he was taken into the emergency ward to access the overall damage which had been done to his person.
Lisa waited outside to hear the news, her mother and father later arriving. ‘Mathieu was just arrested!’ exploded Augustus. ‘I think you had better explain yourself young lady!’ he cried, slapping his daughter across the face.
‘And so he should have been!’ retaliated Lisa. ‘He could have killed Gregory!’
‘Again with the bloody Anglo!’ growled Augustus. ‘Who cares about this damn Australian bastard! He deserved all that he received for meddling in our affairs. If he does die he will die a hero to the people of Greece, because from here on no Anglo will ever meddle in our affairs from fear of what will happen to them. Besides, Mathieu won’t be charged. He was released under the condition that he would never return to Australia. Do you know what you have done? You have ruined the chance you had with Mathieu. He would have been good for you, but no, you had to humiliate us!’
‘Gregory loves me!’ shouted Lisa. ‘I know you don’t want him to, but love has no cultural background like we do. It makes the decisions at its own volition. It has no laws; no boundaries. It does what it will and it has no adversary strong enough to bring it to its knees.’
‘Then love is a fool and deserves the same fate as that bastard in there!’ shouted Augustus, indicating at the emergency ward. ‘If you choose him over your own family do not expect to come back to us. From now on you are no longer our daughter and I am no longer your father.’ With that both of Lisa’s parents left as she stood in the empty corridor of the hospital.
Not long afterwards Gregory was released into the recovering ward, Lisa sitting by his side, waiting for him to awake, just as one of his fingers moved, his eyes beginning to open as he awoke to see Lisa’s smiling face.
‘What happened?’ he asked, a pained expression making its way across his features.
‘Rest now’ smiled Lisa, kissing his forehead before rubbing it with her gentle fingers. ‘We will talk again later.’

And so they did.

I’m Never Going to be Good Enough for You

SYNOPSIS: The title basically summarises the entire outline of the poem; the notion that someone is ‘out of one’s league’ is the theme of this piece, where the man of whom the poem centres around confesses his undying love for the woman he is infatuated with, knowing full well that he is not deserving of spending an eternity with her because she is far too amazing.

On this particular day, my heart and soul, shall dress totally in black;
figuratively and hypothetically, from now until forever, my heart shall never look back.
For I have made an empty silence, of my heart,
depriving myself of my true love as we begin to part.
Never will you know the way I truly feel,
such ideology originally appearing so surreal.
I begin to hear my heart violently riot and shout
believing this to be the young woman I am not to be without.
And yet in this fantastical reality of my so called life
I know you were never meant to be the mother of my children, nor my wife.
And although I will always terribly miss you,
I know in my heart, I’m never going to be good enough for you.

The sky begins to lose its colour and the sun irreversibly turns to gray,
at least that’s how it feels as I begin to turn my back and walk away.
I don’t know if it’s just the world or if I’m going insane
but I constantly find myself crying out your name.
Perhaps I am too late, but this feeling is running throughout my heart and soul,
I think I learnt what love is, but I’m afraid I let the trail go cold.
I attempt to trick myself to quit feeling the pain inside,
however the pain will break through; it always does, until it reaches the outside.
I know deep down without you I shall never be alright
the one good thing I need, I just can’t have tonight.
If love is anything, I have discovered it is a terrifying race
and in the end I’m constantly, if but lucky – left in second place.

In my mind I have these broken dreams whilst I attempt to sleep,
constantly it’s your face I see, which ultimately makes me weep.
If I could have but one wish I would grant you the gift to see
the roaring emotions I have for you which live inside of me.
However things shall go wrong, they eventually always do,
my soul never been given the ability to belong to you.
But I was so young and naïve when I believed in all of this,
believing I would one day have the chance to taste your forbidden kiss.
When I was young, like everyone else, I felt the sun would always shine
and that inevitably you would, on one glorious day, be mine.
But even if you should leave and completely disappear
a part of you will always remain within me right here.

I sat up on the roof last night and looked up at the stars,
under the cover of the moon I contemplated my life thus far.
As the sky began to change and become a far deeper shade of blue
my mind began to manifest all my thoughts onto one subject – which was you.
I pretended you were close to me, but it wasn’t nearly close enough,
without you standing close to me my life shall inevitably be rough.
I remember how I always love the way your clothes make you look;
you are so amazing because you never do anything by the book.
I too am cursed to remember the beauty of your laugh,
wishing to freeze such extravagant beauty within a photograph.
These memories constantly rip apart my heart and make me feel so foul,
I could not imagine how you could be any more beautiful than you are right now.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t ever do for you, but there’s nothing I’d do either,
I wish you could put yourself into the shoes of this cold, lifeless cadaver.
My love for you consists of a constant roaring emotion,
which is tossed about inside me like a ship on the ocean.
For not confessing these feelings to you I haven’t any legitimate reason;
this false identity I have created is as cold and lifeless as the winter season.
But if I were to confess my feelings, what words could possibly define,
the way I feel about this someone, who looks so perfectly divine?
When it comes to confessing feelings, I don’t need a book to show me how,
moreover, I won’t ever need a teacher to explain to me I want you now.
Because in all honesty it seems my ship has run aground
and you are the nesessary tide I need to come spin me back around.

I know your name, but I will not dare to write it down,
for you are the single most beautiful woman in this entire town.
I do not write down your name from fear of the embarrassment it would cause,
for you, the woman whose singular beauty has but not a single flaw.
However, by not confessing how I feel my eyes shall constantly weep,
your amazingly intricate beauty – it runs so extraordinarily deep.
The point of this journey of mine is to never actually arrive,
yet every time I look at you I am thrilled to be alive.
I know in truth we are not destined to ever be together
but I can promise you my dear, my love for you shall last forever.
I cannot keep up this facade much longer and my heart can no longer pretend
so here’s the truth – I’m the man of your dreams, masquerading as your good friend.

I wish you could take these words to bed with you and hold onto them at night.
I wish I could take you home with me and tell you everything will be alright.
I know there is a method in my madness as to why I live a lie,
in reality I hope I shall eventually live before I die.
For how could I allow the story of my love for you go untold;
such a narrative perfectly representing the day my heart was sold.
But all these dreams I have are constantly out of reach my friends said
and that all these thoughts are foolish schemes filling up my stupid head.
However, I think I’ve been true to everyone with the exception of you and me
and the way I feel causes me great pain and makes my heart long to be free.
Every time I look upon your beauty I am suddenly made aware,
that the woman I am fated to spend eternity with has constantly been there.

I remember the day I looked upon your intricately smiling face;
that day I was captured by a beauty my mind was unable to erase.
Such a moment of grand magnificence played out exactly like a scene,
one that had been captured directly from the silver screen.
It was such a shame then, as it is right now, that my heart I cannot trust,
for you, the world’s most beautiful young woman – I have an incredible crush.
I repeat these thoughts to myself almost every single day
and in the end I just don’t know how to quit feeling this way.
For I have constantly and will forever allow my love to play me the fool;
I follow society’s guide book on love, never breaking any of their rules.
For this I’m constantly filled with regret, whilst lost for what to do,
the simple truth is I’m never going to be good enough for you.

Hole in the Head

SYNOPSIS: Explores the final few days in the life of police officer Marcus Lithammer, revealing how it was that he died and the culprit responsible for his murder.

Officer Marcus Lithammer was found dead this morning inside the house of a Mr. Dominic Chase. He died instantly from a bullet to the side of the head, the murder weapon; a magnum revolver located a couple of metres away from the body. Dominic Chase, who is believed to be dealing with psychological issues is the prime suspect in this murder investigation and is still unaccounted for. Dominic’s family has told police they will do everything they can to help bring their son in swiftly and safely. Officer Lithammer, a decorated veteran of the Melbourne police force leaves behind a fiancé. 

Fifteen nights earlier:
The sound of the loud bar echoed around me as I shuffled in my chair, staring into the face of the soon to be Mrs. Marcus Lithammer. She had brown shoulder length hair and a spectacular smile. Her teeth were a bright white that was almost artificial in appearance whilst her lips were covered in a bright red lubricant that made them glitter under the lighting from the ceiling above. She wore a fabulous black dress with what looked to be small sapphires located across every inch of its design, the garment placed tightly across her body, revealing all of her curves. She smiled back at me as we shared a toast, downing the drinks in one gulp. I smacked my lips, feeling my revolver pressing up against my lower thigh as I moved it over to the adjacent side. ‘What do you say we call it a night?’ I asked, alternate devious intentions in mind.
‘But it’s not even eleven p.m.’ retorted Abigail. Before she could say anymore her beeper went off, her face becoming contorted in frustration as I sat back in my chair, holding my head in my hands.
‘And it’s a mystery as to who that could be’ I said sarcastically as Abigail gave me a dirty look.
‘He’s my brother’ she retorted, reaching around inside of her black leather hand bag for the device that was irritatingly ruining a perfectly orchestrated evening.
‘Yeah, your brother’ I grunted, ‘who appears to spend more time with you than I have in the past six months. I want to spend time with my fiancé for at least one night without his interference. Is that too much to ask for?’
‘You know about his condition’ shot back Abigail.
I nodded, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. ‘I know, I know, fear of the dark, fear of tight spaces, fear of being touched. I ask you, how many things can a guy be afraid of?’
‘I told him, if he needed my help to call me’ retorted Abigail. ‘So if you intend to vent your aggression on somebody, let it be me. He’s innocent’ she said, storming out of the bar as I quickly paid the tab before hurrying after her. ‘Shit’ I thought, ‘if everyone was so damn innocent I’d be out of a job and living out on my arse.’

It was a short drive to her brother’s house, the streets dark and gloomy, the moon being extraordinarily bright at its pinnacle in the sky as I stopped the vehicle adjacent to the intended residence. The double storey home looked pale and gloomy in the darkness as Abigail looked at me, before exiting the vehicle, her breath visible in the darkness as I did the same.
The door to the residency flung open before Abigail had even rung the bell, her brother looking at her with glee filled eyes.
‘Hello Dominic’ smiled Abigail.
‘I’m glad you came’ said her brother. ‘I was having trouble sleeping. Whenever I closed my eyes this nightmare continued to play in my mind. Might you be able to stay with me tonight, at least until I manage to get to sleep?’ he asked as Abigail nodded, leading the way into the home.  I managed a nod as Dominic looked at me, being unable to properly master a verbal greeting as the door closed behind me.
The interior of the home was shrouded with wood; wooden floors, wooden walls, even the furniture sharing the exact same pattern. Abigail led the way up the stairs, before turning right upon reaching the landing and escorting Dominic into his room, Star Wars posters littering the walls as I stood at the doorway as both brother and sister made their way into bed. I watched and waited patiently as Dominic began to count his usual numerical sequence in his mind to help him get to sleep, Abigail looking up at me with apologetic eyes as she mouthed the word ‘sorry.’ I instantly realised that she was not coming home with me tonight and it was with an angry heart that I briskly made my way down the stairs, slamming the front door behind me, hoping I kept that bastard of a brother awake for just a short while longer.

After driving around the town for a short while I eventually made my way back to the police station, logging into the target range and shuffling over to the farthest lane. Setting myself up in front of the target, I removed my magnum revolver from my belt and loaded all six chambers, pointing the loaded weapon at the intended target and squeezing, watching it go away. ‘If only everything were so easy’ I thought with a mischievous grin, ‘if only everything were so easy.’

Eight nights earlier:
I had parked my vehicle outside Dominic’s residence, waiting for his return home to speak with him. I took a deep breath as I turned on the radio, listening to some agonisingly brutal rap song which made my blood boil as I shut the radio off once more. Staring through the rear view mirror I suddenly noticed Dominic hobbling up the street, holding a cluster of books close to his chest, his eyes darting back and forth as though he were expecting somebody to attack him. Paranoid bastard, I’ll give him something to be worried about.
I exited the vehicle and hurried across the road over to him. ‘We need to talk Mr. Chase’ I began, being a little out of breath as I continued. ‘It’s about your sister. Well, actually it’s about your sister and I.’ I looked at him, his face looking puzzled, as if he were attempting to play coy, pretending he didn’t know who I was. ‘You do know who I am right?’ I continued, my voice tightening with anger. ‘We’ve met countless times in the past. You must have recognised me at some point in your ridiculously useless life! Anyway, I’m just here to say that I want you to lay off your sister. Why don’t you call your parents next time you have trouble sleeping? Now, I know about your little problems and I feel for you man, I really do, and many people in my position wouldn’t. But I would like to at least spend a little time romantically involved with your sister. Can you allow me that?’
The bastard didn’t even respond, appearing to completely ignore me as he walked past me and towards his front door. ‘You can’t have her you know!’ I cried as he slammed the door behind him.

One night earlier:
I lay in my relaxing bed, the wooden slats beneath me groaning as Abigail made her way over to me, unbuttoning her purple blouse and dropping it to the floor. Her amazingly luscious body that I had not seen much of recently looked as delicious as ever as I licked my lips, eager to taste her succulent flesh. I found myself salivating at her image, her dark hair rolling across her shoulders, her darker eyes looking directly into mine. Her brassiere matched the colour of her panties, both being a filthy black in colour as she made her way into bed beside me. I reached my arm around her and caressed her skin, kissing her moist lips as she groaned.
‘We haven’t done this in a long time’ she purred, beginning to unbutton my police uniform, falling on top of me and giggling as I embraced her in a warm hug. The two of us locked lips as her tongue ventured into my mouth, exploring the environment as I closed my eyes. Her hands reached for my zipper as I began to feel myself getting an erection – the phone spontaneously ringing and breaking through my greatest fantasies.
‘No, no, no!’ I shouted, infuriated at what had just happened as Abigail made her way off from my person and reached for the phone. Speaking for only a few short seconds, I instantly knew what was happening as I fell back into bed, holding my head in my hands as she put the phone back down. ‘I’m sorry Marcus’ she said. ‘But I really need to go.’
‘You don’t have to’ I said, becoming aggravated. ‘You need him like a hole in the head. I’m your fiancé! Could we at least spend some quality time together before we seal the bond? I was accosted by an attempted murderer today but you don’t hear me crying out for help, do you? I come home and I want to spend some time with the woman I am so in love with, not watch her leave to spend time with her brother. Do you not want to feel my erected penis inside you? Do you not want me caressing your succulent breasts? Do you not want me sucking your delectable clitoris? Jesus Christ, if I didn’t know any better I’d say the two of you were engaging in an incestuous relationship!’
‘That’s enough Marcus!’ shouted Abigail, putting her clothes back on. ‘I don’t need this crap from you right now’ she cried, tears in her eyes. ‘So just cut the bull and leave me be. I’ll be back as soon as I can’ she said, leaving the room as I fell back into the bed.
‘I can drive you!’ I shouted, hearing her cry ‘I’ll take a cab!’ the front door slamming behind her. I watched her from my window as she hurried down the street, cell phone to her ear. I buttoned up my shirt, grunting whilst I did so before eagerly hurrying down the stairs two at a time with the intention of following her.

I had parked in my usual position, opposite Dominic’s residence. I had watched Abigail arrive by cab, had seen the lights in her brother’s bedroom go on as she knelt down beside him, their shadows moving across the walls. I had waited patiently for over two hours, wondering what was taking them so long as Abigail finally emerged from the house, a taxi pulling up immediately as soon as she reached the curb, beginning to drive her back down the street. I rubbed my hands together as I took a deep breath, exiting my vehicle and walking towards the house. I picked the lock with a thin thread of wire, hearing the tumblers click into place, the door opening in front of me as I walked out onto the landing with the intention of speaking to her brother. I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me before slowly making my way across the wooden floor. Jesus Christ! Who in their right mind had their house comprised entirely of wood?
‘I’m sure I’d get his attention now’ I thought as I began to make my way up the stairs as slowly as possible, before hearing a sound coming from the kitchen. I crept back down the stairs and across the wooden floor, noticing a shape in the darkness that appeared to be constructing a sandwich as I sprang up behind him. Grabbing him around the neck, he instantaneously began to scream and squirm in protest, thrashing his arms around insanely as I dragged him into the lounge room and threw him into one of his wooden chairs.
‘Remember me?’ I growled through clenched teeth, ‘cuz I remember you.’ I took out my revolver and held it at my side, Dominic’s eyes growing wide with fear. ‘You ignored me before, but I doubt you can do that now. You think you know what fear is? Well let me educate you on something – you haven’t even scratched the surface. You know nothing about fear! Now, let me show you what fear really is’ I growled, holding the revolver in front of me. ‘Let’s see who the fates decide is the one most deserving of the love and affection of your beautiful sister, shall we?’
I removed every round but one from the chamber of my side arm, placing the others inside my pocket as I pointed the gun at his left temple and pulled the trigger. Dominic leapt in fear, astonished that nothing had happened. I drew the weapon to my head and smiled, pulling the trigger as I heard the weapon click, the chamber being empty. I pointed the gun back at Dominic, feeling extraordinarily powerful as beads of sweat ran across his face while he appeared to try to mouth sentences, the sounds being incoherent drivel. Pulling the trigger, the gun once again clicked, failing to fire as I turned the gun back on myself. I smiled at Dominic, holding the weapon steadily in my hand, before squeezing the trigger.

the Town that Civilisation Forgot

SYNOPSIS: A young man makes his way out to a long forgotten town, and discovers that he should embrace life and love, rather than let all of it slip away.

 I don’t know what was going through my mind when it happened. I was walking the same route I always took towards the train station which would lead me to university. The bag was swung over my shoulders; my wallet was in my pocket. My dark hair was blowing into my eyes, the wind picking up speed as it always did around the shadowy corner I walked by. And there all of a sudden it was; a bright blue bus which pulled up beside me at its intended stop.
Now, I don’t know whether it was because I’d never seen it before, or because I knew I’d never get a chance to ride it again due to the death sentence hanging over my head, but I suddenly had the urge to deviate from my usual schedule.
Now, I’m not a man who normally takes risks, but all of a sudden, instead of walking on I decided that I would ride the bus. I didn’t care where at this point in time; I just knew I wanted to be sitting on one of the luxuriously furnished chairs positioned across the interior of the strapping vehicle before me.
After purchasing a fair from the driver I made my way down the centre of the bus and sat down on one of the farthest seats from the front, placing my bag atop of my chest and resting my head against the soft backing of the chair. My eyes began to droop and sleep came over me as I felt the bus beginning to pull back onto the road.

I don’t know how far I’d travelled, but by the time the bus driver woke me the surroundings outside of the bus had drastically changed since last I’d seen them. Instead of a city made up of metal and bone I found a country atmosphere greeting me from my window, not a single thing reminding me of home. I yawned before rising to my feet, hanging my bag over my shoulders as the driver said ‘end of the line.’
‘Where am I?’ I asked, staring outside the window, a radiant sun beating down onto the metal hull of the bus, while a light breeze carried leaves across a dirt road, small estates located across the dry terrain around me.
‘Townsville’ said the driver, nodding for me to exit.
‘Is there really such a place?’ I asked, scratching my head.
‘Must be son, ‘cause you sure as shit are in it’ chuckled the driver as I made my way off the bus, watching it disappear in a cloud of smoke and back up the dusty highway from whence it came.
I stumbled across the road before making my way across a small dusty trail which led to a rundown hotel with white paint peeling off from its exterior. I sighed before walking through the creaking door which swung upon loose hinges, a bell ringing above my head to signify my presence. A minute passed before a rather stocky woman made her way out from the back. She wore a dirty white apron over a blue and white striped shirt, her face appearing to be as run down as the hotel she resided over.
‘Ah’ I began, before proceeding on. ‘Forgive me for asking, but where exactly am I?’
‘A few miles away from civilisation’ said the woman in a croaky voice as she lit up a cigarette. ‘And that’s exactly the way we like it.’ She looked at me inquisitively before continuing. ‘You’re not from anywhere around here, are you?’
‘If I knew where here was that would be greatly appreciated’ I said.
‘I already told yer’ expressed the woman. ‘Imagine wherever you were before arriving here. This place, is a long way from that.’
I looked at my watch, noticing that one and a half hours had gone by since I had made my way onto the bus.
‘What, you gotta be somewhere?’ guffawed the woman, before extending out her hand. ‘Name’s Trudy Watson.’
‘Ryan Shields’ I said, taking her hand in mine.
‘Okay Ryan, perhaps you could start by telling me what yer doing here’ began Trudy, ‘then perhaps I could help you out.’
‘I honestly don’t know’ I said. ‘I just had this inkling to get onto the bus; and so I did. Suddenly, hey presto, I’m here.’ I sighed before going on. ‘Ah, perhaps it’s because I felt that I should not continue living the way I was used to and try something a little different, especially since I won’t be around for much longer.’
‘What are yer talking about?’ asked Trudy. ‘You’re a young man. Me, I’ve got cancer and you don’t see me doing anything that ain’t what I’m used to. So what could possibly be prohibiting you from living till the age I am now?’
‘My liver’ I said. ‘When I was younger I contracted Hepatitis A through food. That taught me not to eat at a restaurant, that’s for sure.’ I gave a weak chuckle before continuing. ‘Anyway, it damaged my liver and over time it has gradually become worse and now it’s inoperable. The only way to fix me up is to replace it entirely, but I’ve been warned that the risks are too great. I’m booked in to have the surgery in two weeks time. I did however sign a DNR.’
‘DNR?’ questioned Trudy.
‘Do not resuscitate form’ I said. ‘My lawyer looked over it and confirmed everything was in order. So if I flat line during the procedure, I stay that way’
‘Why would a young man such as yourself want to go kill yourself for?’ asked Trudy.
‘Everyday for as long as I can remember I’ve lived a life of regret’ I began. ‘I’ve only managed to accomplish half of what I wanted and I know that if I do survive the operation, nothing’s going to change. I’m not going to have a sudden epiphany and do everything I never would have. Including asking the girl I’m infatuated with to go out with me.’
‘Girl?’ asked Trudy. ‘Wow, if you’re willing to kill yourself to ensure you don’t have to talk to her she must be something special. What is her name?’
‘Cassandra’ I said, taking out my wallet and showing her the picture I carried around with me. It was a photo of me, Cassandra, and three others within one of my classes during a group exercise. Cassandra however stole the lime light. Her light brown hair shone brightly in the camera flash, which preserved her physical beauty forever in the image.
‘The ideology I live by however is; what’s the point of intimacy when you’re already dead inside?’ I stated, sighing to myself.
‘I think I know why you’re here’ said Trudy, handing me back the photo. ‘Everyone in this town is here for the exact same reason’ she said, taking off her apron and beginning to make her way out from behind the counter. ‘Follow me, I want to show you something’ she said, before beginning to lead me back out into the open.
We slowly walked along the dirt trail before stopping outside a small cottage a few metres down from the hotel. ‘Here lives Mr. Bristol. He arrived here about eleven years ago. He’s an athlete who never believed he was good enough to attend any of the major events, and when given the chance to compete believed he wouldn’t succeed, so instead, came out here.’
Trudy slowly began to continue up the trail before stopping outside a small metallic house on the opposite side of the track. ‘Here lives Mr. Sall. He’s an artist who never believed he could cut it. When his wife died of Leukemia her only wish was that he would allow others to see his paintings. He however failed her, as he did himself and retired here not twenty years ago.’
Once again Trudy began to make her way back up the trail as I slowly followed behind, the track becoming steeper as we stopped outside of a double storey residence which was constructed from pine. ‘Mrs. Smeath lives here. She used to sing in a church choir group. When a man she had always loved came up to her and asked her to accompany him with his band as they toured the country she agreed. On the day she was to meet him however she felt that he would not like her if he were to hear her sing once more and instead came out here. That was sixteen years ago.’
Trudy took a deep breath before slowly moving a little further up the trail to a house which had a jet black coat of paint draped across its exterior. ‘Mr. Turtletaub resides here. He was engaged to be married to an incredibly beautiful Turkish woman, but a few days before they were to be wed he left, believing their relationship would not last because he felt he was not going to be good enough for her. He arrived here eight months ago. Like everyone else here, he ain’t ever going to leave.’
Trudy sighed before making her way a little further up the trail, the wind billowing before us as we came to stop in front of a thinly crafted double storey residence made from a metallic substance. ‘Mrs. Valdreski lives here. She’s a woman with a Croatian background who fell madly in love with an Anglo Saxon woman. She however never confessed her feelings because she believed that she would be not only be rejected, but completely humiliated as well. On top of that, she thought a blending of different cultural backgrounds would not go down to well with either parities parents, and so instead came out here. You’d think that the hate people have for homosexuals would be yet another fear which corrupted her sensors, but no, it was not funnily enough. For fourteen years she’s been living in this house. You might recognise the woman she fell in love with. She’s now the leading woman behind a homosexual movement in Melbourne.’
Trudy smiled weakly before beginning to make her way up a little farther to a small house on what appeared to be the outskirts of the little town I’d discovered. ‘And here, the crème dela crème of all bad cases is where I live. I came up here twenty four years ago because I couldn’t face my family.  I’ve a daughter who I’ve lost touch with. She hates me, or so I believe and personally I feel that if I were to ever see her she would not even bother attempting to make conversation with me.’ She sighed before continuing. ‘I guess the point I’m trying to make here Ryan is that I don’t want to see another person wind up here. All of us are here for the exact same reason. None of us could ever face whatever it was we wished to accomplish with our lives. I only hope that you can go back to civilization and do for all of us what we couldn’t do for ourselves and live God damn it, live.’

I found myself back in university the next day, my class coming to an end as I began to leave in the same manner I always did, completely avoiding Cassandra on the way to the door. Before I could stop myself I had stopped in front of where she sat and had opened my mouth to speak. ‘Excuse me’ I began, Cassandra looking directly up at me, my heart skipping a couple of beats.
‘Yes?’ she asked. ‘You’re Ryan, right?’
‘Yeah’ I managed, surprised she even knew my name.
Cassandra smiled. ‘Is there something you wish to tell me?’
As for what I said, I doubt I have to write it down, for you know, just like Cassandra does now, exactly how I feel for her. She stood by me during my operation and now we’re engaged to be married this August. As for every other man out there who’s in the same position I once was I ask only one thing of each of you. Find the one thing that you need and hold onto her forever.

Secrets of the Grassy Knoll

SYNOPSIS: Told from the point of view of a fox, this piece tells the story of a friendship between a fox and a young boy.

I met Malcolm in the long grasses outside of his home in the hot, dry country of the Australian outback. He had worn a blue and red striped cardigan with baggy blue jeans and great black boots which went up to his knees. His eyes were an incredible blue, his hair a pitch black in colour, whilst his cheeks constantly maintained a rosy glow.
He had been playing in the paddocks whilst his father stayed inside with Phillip, the man who helped him with every chore.
Malcolm had continued to wander further and further out into the dense grass before he found me deep within the shrubbery.
I whimpered in the grasses from fear of what he might do to me. I was so young and naïve at the time. His kind had taken away everything from me. Both my mother and father had being killed by hunters; the litter of siblings I was once a part of had being completely destroyed.
But instead, he changed my perception on humanity entirely. Sensing I was hurt, he gingerly picked me up in his little hands and took me into his care. From this point on he would help me, clean me and feed me and we would never be apart. And so was the story of the fox and his Malcolm.

Every night from then on Malcolm would make his way into the tangled brushes and blades of grass and bring me out a small slab of meat and a bowl of milk. He laughed playfully as I lapped up the milk with my dainty pink tongue and whilst doing so he would stroke my orange coat. Every so often he would arrive with a brush as well and stroke down my fur until it was beautifully straight once more after a day in the tangled grasses.
During the nights that became both cold and wet he would shelter me from the storm. Taking me up in his arms, Malcolm would escort me into the house, ensuring his father had no knowledge of what was occurring right under his nose. Placing me inside the confines of his warm duvet cover, I snuggled up beside him and heard the gentle rhythm of his heart beating in time to mine. I would hear the frightening sounds of thunder crashing across the sky and I would witness the lightning scorch the clouds above. Malcolm would grab a hold of me and whisper that everything would be okay and I would yelp playfully beside him and nibble at his ear to signify that I too would protect him like he had protected me.

However, during the days that Malcolm did not spend with me, he spent with his father. I never did hear what they said, but I knew right from the moment I saw him that his father did not respond well to my kind. I often saw him watching the both of us out in the grass whilst he stayed indoors working with Philip.
Whenever Malcolm came into the grass after speaking with his father he never did seem himself at first and when a tear ran down his cheek I gently brushed my body up against his to reassure him that I was here and never would I be gone. Once again Malcolm would be happy and once more we would frolic in the underbrush.

But when hunting season began to draw closer, Malcolm began to become frightened with every moment he spent with me, almost as though he felt that each time there was the chance that we would never see each other again. I would yelp and cry in representation of such ideology being absolutely ridiculous, but even I had sensed a change on the wind.
The father had taken out his rifle, cleaned and oiled the particular weapon of choice and admired it in the kitchen window whilst looking at me as though I did not belong. Philip too had acquired a rifle of his own and had gone through the exact same strategy.
I noticed the undergrowth around me begin to grow more silent, a deathly quiet coming over the land as though all other forms of life had begun to leave in trepidation of what was to come. Malcolm had explained to me that it was all some sort of game, yet I found that a little hard to believe, for I did not wish to play.

But on the fateful morning that hunting season finally came into full swing it appeared that I inevitably had no choice. Malcolm and I were once again in the grasses dancing together as one when both Philip and his father began to make their way into the undergrowth.
Noticing a duck that had not yet fled the premises, Philip took his shot, the bullet just missing the animal as it took flight in the nick of time. I heard him curse impatiently under his breath as Malcolm and I attempted to hide in the grasses. They had waited an entire year to kill again and they were eager to accomplish such a task.
It was then that the father saw me. It was not difficult, there was no concealing my body in the brush as Malcolm began to look incredibly frightened.
I looked up into his adorable little face as he cried ‘run foxy, run!’
I thought of staying, but I noticed the look in his eye and the terror on his face and with that I took his advice. I heard the sound of a rifle being reloaded as I leapt through the undergrowth, Malcolm continuing to cry at the top of his lungs for me to run as far away as I possibly could. Just at that moment a terrific cracking sound rattled through the bush, sending chills of terror throughout the landscape. Birds flew out from the trees and little beetles scurried into the safety of the ground below. Never in all my life had I heard such silence. I whimpered, seating myself down in the brush whilst I surveyed the landscape before quickly hurrying back in the direction of my all time dearest friend.
Drawing nearer, I heard the father cry ‘I think I shot something’, his voice high pitched and happy. I took a few extra steps forward, my feet beginning to wander through a wet substance in the grass as I looked down at the ground beneath me. And there on the ground, lay my Malcolm. Friend of animals great and small; the best friend a fox could ever have.

No Death in Love

SYNOPSIS: My idea of a stereotypical break-up poem

Today could have been the day you found out you were pregnant and we began to start a family.
Today could have been the day I proposed, getting down on bended knee, asking you to marry me.
Today however is the day I sit back, alone again, and cry.
I stare drunkenly at the moon and toss insults at the falling stars,
the same falling stars I once wished upon that never truly brought me to you,
and even though I held you in my arms, you were never truly mine.
I could have been a million miles away because sitting next to you meant next to nothing.
I would ask if anything we experienced was true, but I’m afraid of the answer.
Was everything simply one great big lie, is that a tragic fact?
I should have realised your promises were too good to be true,
but I unfortunately had been struck down by love, and refused to see the signs.
When I told you my feelings, you didn’t believe me, and my heart lay down and died.
You had this picture perfect image of the perfect man that, like a tuxedo two sizes too small, I could not fit into.
When we first met, you were looking for Mr. Right, but instead you found me, and now it is a second too late; all our love is gone.
When in a relationship, you stressed you give it your all; your heart, mind, soul and body.
When I was younger I had delusions of grandeur, I wanted to be yours.
Since then, I have learnt a lot. I only wish I had been born with such knowledge
to avoid the unspeakable pain that now resides inside my head and heart.
I will admit, lessons have been leant, however, heart’s have been razed to the ground,
although I can only speak for myself because mine is all but dead and gone.
When we first met, I was so alive, free and passionate; I cannot believe who I once was. I cannot believe how much things have changed.
I am now an archipelago, lost and stranded in the crisp blue ocean, sending out an S.O.S to your heart,
for mine, it has been belittled, it has been broken, and it is no longer yours.
Last night I had myself a dream, one in which your loving heart came to rescue me,
but I knew from the beginning, although it was so beautiful,
it was rather unfortunately, happily never after.
When we were together I was hypnotised from a spell cast by your hand;
a man I had once been, but now a prisoner, one enslaved to your voice,
and whatever order you gave to me, I would have only too gladly executed.
You could have taken out a gun, pressed it to my temple, and asked me to pull the trigger,
and I would have obediently done so too, because I was not quite myself anymore.
I would have done anything you asked of me, but now I fear it’s too late to dwell on the past.
I read somewhere and ignorantly believed it too, a quote from a wise old woman,
who stated ever so positively and honestly, that there was no death in love.
For your crimes against the loving heart, warrants should be out for your arrest.
You need to be charged with the murder of love, and pain was your accomplice.
Every law enforcement officer, bounty hunter and able bodied hand should have been deployed
to apprehend the heinous violator who committed such horrid acts against romance.
To this I say; long live the ghost of the fallen angel, fallen angel which was you,
but no longer. Now altered into blue eyed devil, blue eyed demon, blue eyed evil.
So sweet and innocent you once were, when you went looking for a young man’s heart;
taught to be good by your parents; to treat others with decency and respect,
and to never talk to strangers, especially when within a strange land.
You had your own ideals on love however, your own beliefs on romance;
you enjoyed the company of older men for their experience and younger men for their passion,
until you were barbarically taken advantage of, and it was only then that we fell in love.
But perhaps all of it was nothing less than a dream, and if it were, it was a good dream while it lasted
within the fabricated reality of my mind,
where I daydreamed in the dark spaces of this cold, cold world.
However, if it were to happen again
there are some things I would have to recommend.
Instead of surrendering your entire self, you could have put in half of your heart,
and I could have put in half of mine, and together we would have made a complete whole,
and therefore you would have been without a fathomable excuse to leave me,
because losing you was difficult, for you’re like no woman I’ve ever known.
I wish I had the power to see into your heart, to feel as you do,
because I cannot believe you could forget what we had so easily
and begin something new with a certain someone.
I believe it’s a facade, a shitty disguise,
because I think, or I hope, although I don’t know which just yet, that you still love me,
for the greater the romance, the worse the pain, and therefore the greater the rebound.
When we cried, it was comparative to rain in a formidable storm,
and when you started up your vehicle, the engine throttled like thunder,
right before you left at a speed faster than that of lightning.
Over time I had said jokes and I had confessed my feelings;
if only this were the way love was supposed to be, you would still be in my arms tonight.
I would have popped you the question; I certainly would have, this is my truthful confession,
but you tore out my heart from its place in my chest before I even had the chance,
and yet I am still the proud owner of my heart’s train, but rather regrettably
and unfortunately, it is at the end of its line,
for no more tracks will be laid upon this broken romance.
Now, when I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror,
I see there’s a hideous monster staring right back at me.
This monster, he is representative of my terribly scarred heart,
for I cannot believe you are walking around with somebody else
and not just walking. But I do not dare imagine, or even write down, what else you are doing,
because it is just too painful to imagine your Heavenly body loving somebody else.
You say you do not know what is happening, you do not know what you are doing,
and in turn I reply, it is obvious. You are going to do each other,
all the two of you need to discover is where? Why? And how?
Later I regret saying this, but admit it, I will not.
All I can say, is your new man, he had better hold you real tight,
because if he don’t, I swear to you, I’ll steal you right back to me.
You say he’s great, this guy you talk about, the guy you’re constantly with,
and I ask, how can you be with him, I cannot believe he’s your type.
You say you have never felt this kind of love for any other man before.
You think you have finally found the one, that you have finally got it right.
Such words are music to your ears, but they certainly are not to mine.
How do you think it makes me feel to find everything we had was flawed?
Was I simply and always invisible to you – like a specter it would seem?
Was I a sand man, but a man made of sand, who would blow apart and disappear?
However, and it might just amaze you to learn, that I still love you;
the same way a verse loves a couplet; the same way a song loves a rhyme.
You could change your face, hair and name. You could flee to a foreign land,
and still I would have nothing but romanticised feelings for you.
If you want these feelings I have for you to end
you had better get yourself a gun for hire
because I am not ever going to stop loving you,
even after all that you did to me and I to you,
because I love you now, exactly as I loved you then.
I have always loved you, and I fear I always will.

The Man That Can’t Be Moved

SYNOPSIS: Jimmy, a student attempting to do a research project on the mysterious town of Gransnapia discovers a story about a statue of a man that is placed on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and why he will never leave.

Jimmy rode timidly upon his bike, the immaculate town of Gransnapia located around the bend, the entire town looking considerably bleak and dark, a shadow of its former self. He had never been present during its glory days, but had heard stories of its brilliance, which is why he had decided to do his assignment on the town. The teacher requested they write on something fantastical, and this was it. Jimmy however never imagined the town would be so frightening to behold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he rode into town. A dense cover of fog emerged from the confines of small broken town houses and spiraled around him like ghosts, eager to accept him as one of their own.
Jimmy began to feel his decision to come was a mistake, slowly turning his bike around before slipping to the ground,  gravel digging into his skin, the fog appearing to laugh at his own inconvenience.  Making his way to his feet, Jimmy noticed an old man standing a few metres away, his clothes ragged and dirty. The man turned his head to look directly at him, causing a shudder to crawl along Jimmy’s spine. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy summoned all the courage he could muster before asking ‘do you know any interesting stories about this town mister?’
‘Depends’ stated the man, taking a step forward. ‘Do you want to hear a story’ he asked, ‘or do you want to hear a story?’
‘Which one is which?’ asked Jimmy.
‘The latter is far more fanciful’ stated the old man. He pointed up at a statue of a man placed atop of a cliff edge overlooking the entire town. The statue appeared sad and alone, the body posture signaling the man had lost something significantly dear to him, his head bowed in a silence that could never be broken. ‘I can tell you a story about the man that can’t be moved and the story of his Juliette for all eternity’ he said, before beginning to tell the tale.

The town of Gransnapia was traditionally inviting. Bright and beautiful, lights flourished across the city at night making the small civilisation stand out like a beacon.  However, what Gransnapia was most famous for, were its apples. Gransnapian apples were sold for twelve dollars per kilogram, visualised as one of the most succulent and addictive forms of fruit ever conceived. This world renowned delight was what made the town so famous, comprised of many wealthy industrialists who had made a living of extravagance and luxury for themselves.
However, nobody ever distinguished the true nature of the townsfolk. They were, each of them pretentious, egotistical and presumptuous, having a great amount of prejudice towards outsiders. If they were not a part of their society then they were simply seen as misfits, the scum of the Earth whom they believed needed to be swept clean.
The townsfolk wore luxurious and exquisite outfits, dining at the only restaurants they had ever known, incredible arenas which were crafted specifically for the kings and queens of industry.
This behaviour was clearly represented the day the new shipments of parts for their hydro-electric dam were sent over by ship from the far side of Australia. The vessel was black in colour, looking like a beast on the horizon as it docked in port. The gargantuan containers were removed from the ship, and in addition there was one passenger.  Nathaniel Buck was his name. His costume certainly wasn’t extravagant, appearing dirty and ragged from his trip at sea, his face unwashed and covered in hair. The townsfolk looked down at him as though he was a weed, one which needed to be destroyed quickly before any harm could be done to their Garden of Eden.
Nathaniel immediately had trouble attempting to be accommodated into a room at the local hotel, and the next morning found it even more trying when nobody wished to offer him a job, instantly being deported to the docks to ensure the area would be kept immaculate.
Whilst working there however, he couldn’t help but notice the comings and goings of an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. Virginia Copperfield was her name, daughter of Harvey, one of three men who had founded the Gransnapian apple trade.  Her blonde hair flew out behind her as she rolled by in a luxurious gold trimmed carriage, her attire being a blossoming gown made from the finest silk imaginable.
Nathaniel was told by fellow workers he was crazy for having any romanticised thoughts over such a person. But the dock master liked the work that Nathaniel had accomplished, providing him with a larger economical cash flow, and as he built up his savings, Nathaniel made himself more presentable.
Even after Nathaniel had dined with the best of the town however they still failed to provide him with any respect, especially Harvey, who had noticed the stranger looking at his daughter on countless occasions. He needn’t have worried however. The stranger was never able to sum up the courage to communicate to such an attractive young woman, believing, like the town did, that he was a creature no woman of such brilliance could ever have feelings for.
One night after watching an adventurous piece of dramatic art about a couple of travelers and their escapades, Nathaniel had actually met Virginia in the booth above the stage whilst he was making his way towards the exit. The both of them had stopped what they had been previously doing and looked at one another for a second. Nathaniel had attempted to form words, but had ultimately failed, instead, tipping his hat in the presence of the beautiful young woman and departing from sight.
Although he was still disliked by the locals, Nathaniel did indeed begin to have additional occupations opened to him. Through these he was able to pull off many endeavours the entrepreneurs wished to have accomplished, from moving something from one place to another, to helping to advertise for bigger business. The most attractive feature of such occupational occurrences was the payment, which added to the luxurious lifestyle Nathaniel wished to concoct for himself. He had come to believe such wealth would make him appear to be quite the gentlemen in the eyes of Virginia, nothing apart from his self esteem been able to stop him from achieving his dream of finally being able to ask her to spend an evening with him.   
When Nathaniel realised Virginia was being sent by ship to Europe a couple of weeks later under the machinations of her father he felt his entire body begin to shut down in grief. As the luxuriously gargantuan vessel pulled out from the harbour, Nathaniel stood atop of a cliff edge overlooking the vast ocean, and for a moment, just one, he could have sworn he noticed Virginia look up at him. It was almost as though she too had wanted him to approach all this time, and in one split second all opportunities were vanquished.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months, and months inevitably turned to years as Nathaniel continued to wait on the cliff edge for his beloved to return, to tell her exactly how he felt and pray he was not too late to be with her for all eternity.
But never did the ship return. Nathaniel continued to wait after the ship and all of its crew were reported missing, and after a period of seven long years the constant brutality of the sun caused Nathaniel’s skin to crumble into rock, until he became a part of the cliff itself.
A few months later it was reported the vessel had been attacked by enemy troops invading Europe, no survivors ever being reported after the ship had being razed into the depths of the ocean.

Jimmy took a few steps back, his mouth open in shock, unable to say anything to properly establish the way he currently felt. ‘Wow’ he managed to say in awe.
‘Yes’ nodded the elderly man. ‘Virginia and Nathaniel were the best of all those who ever entered the town, and without them Gransnapia inevitably destroyed itself through wrong doing.’
Jimmy looked at his watch before shouting ‘gee, thanks mister, but I really must go now’, quickly leaping onto his bike and beginning to ride out of the town. He turned around suddenly and looked up at the statue one last time, instantly recognising the resemblance. The old man was the ghost of Nathaniel, trapped for an eternity away from his true love, the two of them cursed to forever be apart.