moonbeam-dreamer

[moonbeam-dreamer]

The Storm (Continued from part 1. Ending)

I made sure to keep it at the speed limit and safe for the animals, while tending what I could to my wounds. Blood streaked down my head and into my shirt, thankfully of black material. My hand dripped and soaked into the fabric of my jeans. Moose, the poor sweet lab/German shepherd mix, was beside himself with anxiety, panting whining, and trying to muzzle me to claim my attention. He’d always come to me when shit hit the fan and this was worse than anything he’d been through. The cats were crying, which aggravated the pain, but I couldn’t bring myself to yell at them. It wasn’t their fault they were afraid and put in this situation by a psycho. Besides, I was scared too, and it made my already high blood pressure soar. There was nausea, dizziness, and I couldn’t get myself to stop shaking from the tension in my nerves. The highway out of town was a straight path, and it made concentration an effort. I turned on the radio to metal to keep me awake and somehow made it to town without further incident.   

Inside the city, however, I sent a prayer to the Goddess Brigid, asking her to keep the eyes of the townsfolk away from my vicinity. I didn’t need anyone playing hero and involving themselves, least of all the nosey biddies at the salon. They had a way of spreading gossip that would put the women on ‘The View’ to shame. It wouldn’t matter once I got home and secured the animals. I could bandage myself up and hide until the wounds healed. Li told me to call if I had issues or needed help, but he was better off keeping to his own affairs. I’d have to message my father about this and I was already dreading his reaction. Maybe I just Wouldn’t call him, and let the incident pass? It wasn’t like I was going there again. She’d just have to find her own ride to QT for smokes and a way to charge her phone. Her friend and drug dealer could order her an Uber to the laundromat every day for all I cared. The days of being her enabler were at an end.  

By some miracle, I pulled into the drive and killed the engine. The rush of quiet sent my nerves into a frenzy. Moose was finally relaxed in the passenger seat and the cats had stopped howling. I was thankful to have made it home, but the eventual call to my father made me anxious. I was going to need a reason for my decision, but I wasn’t going to revisit the events. Better they stay between two than play out for the world to see. It could wait until tomorrow, however. The animals needed to be made comfortable after that hellish journey, then I had to see about myself. I wasn’t looking forward to the cleanup process, specifically running a washcloth over the gashes, then using alcohol to disinfect. There would be pain enough to make the dizziness worsen, and I hadn’t been able to stand up yet.  

Before I could take hold of the doorhandle it was ripped away and an imposing figure in black kneeled at my side. The sun on the drive over had been blinding, but the shade from my trees perfectly shielded the rays and after a moment of fuzziness incomprehension, Li’s face appeared before me. Those beautiful pastel silver/blue eyes surveyed the damage, assessing the best way to move forward, while his jaw tightened to keep his anger under a tight lid. If he blew up now it was going to make it worse for both of us. There was much that I wanted to say, explanations, the entire backstory that involved childhood trauma, abuse, drugs, and narcissism, but nothing would come out. It was scary how normal that was becoming. After every fight and argument, I internalized and disassociated. I was a commendable zombie. It seemed that the time I spent out of her grasp hadn’t truly changed anything.  

In the end, he was the one to break the silence.  

“I’m going to take them inside. Then, you’re going to a hospital”. His tone was gentle, yet firm. From this point on, he was taking over and I had no choice but to follow his lead. My body was past the point of taking my own orders, and it let me know.  

The last thing I remember was the world tilting and darkness rushing in. There was a feeling of warmth, safety, then nothing but the blessed silence.  

[moonbeam-dreamer]

The Storm

It happened again. I should have seen it coming. Nothing good lasts forever, but why did it have to come to such a dramatic head this soon? It wasn’t like I didn’t know the answer. The truth is always staring you in the face, and you could choose to ignore it, act like it was a dead bug on the windshield, yet it stalks you like a predator. It’s never far from you, running in the opposite direction never yields distance, and when it finally catches you, the collision has the full force of a freight train. 

There was a storm this past week and the damage left many without power. I should have let her fend for herself after all the chaos she’d brought me, but I knew the animals would suffer and I couldn’t live with that. I still had to bring two of mine home and there was no better time than now. She wouldn’t have access to a grocery store without assistance, and it would help to lighten her load. So was my thinking anyway. I should have listened to my gut instinct. 

The first car ride went as expected and put my nerves on edge. She told me off for moving out and leaving her ‘stranded’. Her tirade compared me to my father and the bastard he was for every one of her misfortunes. I thought the time alone would have helped her realize that no one cared enough to stalk her, but that was the next topic to come up. Apparently, Since I’ve left, the number of cars to go by has increased and they no longer try to keep it hidden. There’s construction on the main street a block over neighborhood detours has nothing to do with it. I took her to the store, then back home, and used the hour drive to my own to unwind. I hadn’t attempted to collect my cats. There was always the next time. I just needed to get away from her. The stress brought me to tears and rather than go shopping, or making something to eat, I wrapped up on my favorite blanket and went to sleep. 

My father offered to bring her to the store but she refused. Rather, she blew up my phone with demands. Again, I went and endured her abuse. This time she tried to guilt me into letting her stay at my place, but I flat out refused. She waited until we on the way back to start an argument, and I drove home with frazzled nerves, where I repeated the motions of the day before. Disassociating, I believe Jessica calls it. Five more days of maltreatment and mental torment continued before I summoned the energy to load up the last of my items, plus the two cats, and my father’s dog she said she was done caring for. I would have refused but I couldn’t leave him to starve or be tossed out in a storm. He’d suffered that as a puppy and was now deathly afraid of thunder.  

Once they were all safely tucked in, I went back to shut the front door and no sooner had I taken hold of the handle, blinding pain lit my skull. From the right came a hard blow, and from the left there was glass breaking from impact. I thought the wind had pushed the gateway into me and smashed, but another strike to my mouth sent me down the single step with a spin. I managed to stay upright, even as she came forward to continue her assault. When her fist came flying, I grabbed her wrist and held it tightly so she couldn’t pull back. She's 65 and couldn’t move as well as she used to. I thought she might wizen up and stop this idiocy. It wasn’t a fight she could win against someone half her age, but it didn’t stop her from trying. Her other hand came down on mine, nails digging in and drawing blood, and she was yelling obscenities. Force wasn’t going to be enough to break this, and I hated that injury was going to follow, but she was the aggressor. This needed to be done so I could make my escape. I leaned back, swung around, and released her from my hold. Her grip tore me open as she flew across the yard, but I didn’t take a moment to assess the damage. My feet carried me quickly to the car and I sped away from the house to the highway. 

(Continued in part 2)

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Reawakened (Continued from part 3. Ending)

"If something happens, or you feel unsafe, don't hesitate to use it". His tone left no room for argument. Something in my manner of speaking must have alerted him to the fact that I'd opened the door a sliver, yet there was a tidal wave ready to rush over him. He wasn't wrong in that respect, but I dreaded the day when he managed to break through my defenses and learn the truth. It was bound to happen. As much as I tried to hide the truth from my closest friend Jessica, and that lasted a month in total, I eventually caved. Li was a smart man. He'd figured out the right combination of buttons to break the seal wide open.

"I'll try not to", I said and pulled my wallet from my bag. The card was placed behind my license and the picture of Sophie Lancaster and her boyfriend Robert Maltby. I could see another leap of curiosity but after our last discussion he kept a tight lid on it.

"How much do I owe you?" The copy said it was $24 but shops usually had their own pricing system to make it cheaper, or so I hoped. I wasn't going broke since I no longer paid my mother's expenses with mine. Didn't mean I wanted to spend another over $20. Seems like he had a mind reading ability, though.

$15, repeat customer discount". He took the book from my hands and scanned into the computer. His fingers danced gracefully across the keyboard and the price reflected the bargain. Not even tax included. What a dangerous game he was playing for someone who'd given him a lecture that brought out his humility. Still I stood paralyzed. It was a fantastic bargain and my head was telling me to keep my mouth shut. My conscience was the mule kicking me in the ass to speak up, and I relented, though casually.

"Sure your boss won't fire you for the indignity of selling a high priced item so cheaply?" It was only six years old, but it was the special edition. 'Highly sought after', in other words. Still, it didn't keep me from pulling my debit card and handing it over readily.

"Seeing how it's the family business, I don't think they'll take a second look". He swiped the card and slid it back, ignoring my wide eyed gaze. How the hell did I get lucky enough for this to happen?!

"I meant it", he reiterated after bagging the book and passing it over. My cheeks were red for embarrassment. "Doesn't matter how small you think it is, or you don't want to bother me. Call".

I took possession and stepped back quickly. The urge to spill the tea was at fingertips. All I had to do was confess and then he'd understand how serious it wasn't. I hadn't been so quiet to tell people off before. Why was it, with him, that I couldn't make my mouth form the words that were rolling through my head? Rather, I gave a curt nod and put both wallet and novel in my bag before leaving. This feeling of safety, having a friend close again, was gnawing at me and I didn't know how to process it. Like standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, while a wildfire burns behind you. All you have to do is leap to safety, despite the risks involved, but fear keeps you in danger's path. It was only a matter of time before you were consumed, and the fire was already nipping at my heels.

I barely remember the drive home. Not even planting myself in the same armchair that offered comfort at the easiest of times. It was the later barrage of texts from my mother about my father's 'Girlfriend" that prompted me to my senses. Shutting off the device I went to shower before settling into my blog. It's become my only escape now, but I'm grateful. Perhaps, through this, I'll find clarity, or a voice to tell me I'm not insane.

One can dream, and that's the most beautiful part, isn't it?

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Reawakened (Continued from part 2)

"James O' Barr wasn't an emo trying to make himself famous or give the world another hero to idolize", I stated flatly, while holding up the novel for him to focus on. "It was his way of getting justice and lashing out where he couldn't in real life". I paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing.

"His girlfriend was struck and killed by a drunk driver while she went from home to pick him up. He always blamed himself for this, and the driver barely had anything of a sentence handed down. He created Eric Draven, whose girlfriend was gang raped and killed before his eyes, and all he could was lay there and watch as he lay dying. Legends state that a crow can bring a soul back from death to right a wrong, and so he spends nights hunting the men across the city. Days were for himself, spent in their run down and deserted home, where he tortured himself with memories of Shelly and their love, just as James must have". I could see his self assured stance faltering, but I wasn't finished yet.

"The book later became a movie where Brandon Lee played the role of Eric. He died during the making of it by a truly fluke accident, and James felt that sadness and shame all over again. He believed that if he had never created the novel, then Brandon's fiancee Eliza would still have him". I let this knowledge simmer in silence and it was here that I got my first look at his name tag, and the black letters that spelled his identity; Li Brekker. Well, at least I had something to call him beside the tall guy with black hair, or mystery man. It would make our meetings a little less awkward, though not to any worthy extent. I still knew nothing about him save for his wit, and even that was biting. For someone that exuded the 'loner' vibe, he was certainly curious about strangers. Must have been the small town upbringing.

"You don't seem like a girl that's had significant loss", he stated after a time. "So why do you like it so much?"

It was my turn to stand mute and find the right words to answer. How I hated payback when it worked its way around. There was much to unpack with that question, even more that I could say and part of me longed to tell my story. He was an outsider in my world and didn't know my family personally. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Inwardly, I kicked myself. I'd long ago decided not to share my business with the world. Whether out of embarrassment or fatigue at the whole crazy story, perhaps both, I wasn't about to break my mental peace for anyone.

"All of us have a story that speaks of injustice and a desire to see it end. That novel gives me a sense that one day, a time will come for me to be vindicated. My only hope is that I'm still here to see it".

"You're in danger?" His gaze turned from thoughtful to serious, and I knew my usual thoughts had turned what I thought to be a simple statement into a penny dreadful. No doubt he was envisioning the witness protection program or a gang of mobsters coming after me. Still, I wasn't up for sharing the horrible details but I had to say something to put his mind at ease.

"Nothing life threatening", I clarified and tucked the book beneath my arm. "Let's just say that I've taken steps to keep myself off certain radars". His stare stayed constant but rather than give into his silent demands, I side stepped for the counter. I'd stayed long enough and wanted to get home for some mental downtime.

A touch at my arm stalled me. He didn't grab like most people would, but the inference was enough to halt me.

"You have friends you can call on?"

For anyone else, this request would have seemed odd. Given our history and climate of friendly serial killers, it was better never to answer honestly. Yet there was something about him that put me at ease. Even if I wanted to run away at times rather than endure his surliness, this moment held importance and I wasn't going to be my usually bitchy self and dismiss it.

"In my need for escape, I had to create a physical distance". They were over an hour away. I had friends, just none that I could to when in need.

His eyes grew contemplative and I wondered where his thoughts were taking him. Would he be cross for my disregard of safety rules, or was he going to demand a right to escort me home? Having him know where I lived seemed worse than what I'd shared. It was the definition of secluded and though I enjoyed it, he he seemed to take the role of the over cautionary type and I could practically hear the lecture as he went through it in his head.

Surprisingly, he took gentle hold of my elbow and escorted me to the counter. There, he pulled out a business card from the holder and quickly scrawled his name and number before handing it over. My only thought was how immaculate his handwriting was and wondered just how many letters he'd written to make it so perfect? Silly, absolutely, but in moments of mental shut down, you found the oddest things to focus on and this was presented to me by his own hand. Like him, it was dark, graceful, yet beautiful and thoughtful. What had I done to receive this gracious attention?

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Reawakened (Continued from part 1) 

It was the first time I’d seen the small tea bar set up on the counter, and against my better judgement I stopped to make myself some delicious lemon ginger in one of the biodegradable and disposal cups. Over a year ago I’d chosen to go on a diet. Several of my disorders had cropped up again and aside from coffee, as well as the occasional energy drink to get my ass moving in the morning, I stayed away from sweets, soda, and fast food. The heat of the brew was perfect for the chilly day and gave me something to do with my hands other than tremble as I roamed in his territory. He could be anywhere, or knowing my luck he had the day off and I was fearful of nothing more than a 50/50 chance. When I reached the desired section, however, I breathed a sigh of relief. Not a single person in sight and I could peruse at my leisure without moving to make way for others. I was impressed with their selection of both manga and graphic novels. I’ve never been a Marvel or DC fan. The only reason I liked Wolverine was due to Hugh Jackman and he brought the bad ass attitude to life. I played the Batman video games solely out of boredom and enjoyed the fighting aspect. As for manga, I always checked out the cover before choosing to check out the plot. If the artwork didn’t catch me, the plot wouldn’t be enough to hold my interest. While looking for my heart’s desire, I started a list on my phone of titled I’d research when I got home and I couldn’t hold back the excitement at the prospect of new reading material. Didn’t matter that I had a small library waiting for their turn. My interests shifted like the tide and I was chastising myself internally. If any of these held weight, I was going to need more shelves. I usually love DIY projects, but where to put them would be the obstacle to overcome. I was a hopeless packrat with literature, but I couldn’t stop. Never ask me to stop.  

I used to pride myself on being aware of my surroundings and able to detect another’s presence so I wasn’t startled out of my wits. It stemmed from having childhood trauma that was firmly embedded in my character. I never sit with my back to a door in case someone walks in and starts screaming at me and I can’t react in time. Mother was always the worst party at doing this and to this day I refuse to wear headphones when she’s anywhere around. When I was a child, I was seated before the TV in our apartment living room and didn’t hear her come home. She slapped me hard in the back of the head and my trust was shattered. It’s why I flinch when people grab me suddenly or even raise a hand. It came in handy when people tried to jumpscare, but today I failed my own test. His voice came on a heated breath at my ear and I nearly rocketed to the moon. With a gasp I whirled around to see him staring at me. Thankfully he’d chosen to keep his amusement to himself.  

“You don’t have enough from last week?”  

At this he sounded amused, yet there was a hint of skepticism. We hadn’t seen each other since, so perhaps he was back at feeling around the edges and picking up where we’d left off. I don’t know how I was feeling about that, in truth. After ending my last relationship, I wasn’t seeking anything, not even friendship, but I could never be hateful without cause, so I decided it best to answer lest he pester me. 

“Not searching for the ordinary, thank you”, I stated openly, yet pointedly, renewing my search for novel. My note tab was already filled with titles so I put my phone away.  

“Today is a search for justice”. 

He scoffed at my words and from the corner of my eye I could see him lean against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. Yeah, it was elusive, like actual footage of Big Foot that wasn’t shot through a flip phone, or the Pentagon tapes from the day of 9/11, but some of us used what power we did have to bring it about. When he couldn’t manifest in form, we wrote stories or read those created by others to find it. Why did it make it a thing to be sneered at? He was baiting me, and I wasn’t in the mood for his snobbery. 

“I’m going to ignore that little remark. If you haven’t read the book, you don’t get an opinion”. Yes, I was being a brat with a huffiness that would warrant punishment from the right hand, but he gave that in spades and I wanted to return the favor. Who said he got to have all the fun in this exchange? 

I was proven correct in my assumptions the moment I laid eyes on the book and took it to hand. He pulled it away from me and looked over the artwork. The premise was next and in that same snotty manner he yet again scoffed. 

“Some emo guy playing hero and you’re falling over yourself to buy it. I thought you had refined tastes”. 

He thrust it back and I took it willingly. Now he’d pushed the button I tried to avoid and I prepared for battle. 

“Shows how much you know, and I thought you were intelligent”.  

I didn’t usually rise to the occasion, but when the situation called for defense, it came naturally. Especially when it was something dear to me. When I tried to walk past, he stepped in my way and this time I met his huff. 

“That’s not how you treat a customer, you know?” 

He looked me dead in the eyes and spoke without missing a beat. My weakness was already apparent and he was keen to exploit it like a playground bully.  

“Explain what makes me an idiot and I’ll consider giving you a discount on this purchase”.  

I wanted to refuse just to spite him. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation for my feelings, least of all this random dude I’d met a week ago and had the holier-than-thou mindset. Yet something was pushing me to take him up on this exchange. It wasn’t exactly a power play but deeper. He wanted knowledge of how I saw the world, and I wanted to be heard for perhaps the first time in my life. Here was someone willing to listen to the ideas that rolled in my head like a hamster wheel and that misunderstood teenager cried out to get on that soapbox again. Why did I feel like the choice to do so wasn’t mine at all? Rather, it belonged to my inner self and the stranger before me? 

‘Fuck it’, I told myself and looked back into those blue eyes. If he wanted a monologue then he could suffer through the speech that had been written long ago, and he would do so without interruption or offering his own opinions. He’d opened the floodgates. I was mastering the boat was that was paddling through. His inviting was readily accepted.  

(Continued in part 3)

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Reawakened

I went back today. A mission called out to me from the past and I was burning to see it through. Mother sent me a Facebook message, telling me that my favorite movie was on TV and asked if I had cable to watch it. I told her that I didn’t but I owned the movie on Google Play so I could watch it anytime. I usually played it on Halloween and again in March on the anniversary of when the actor died, but this year had been filled with learning tasks at my job and by the end of both days, I was forced to miss it. While I was waiting on further work yesterday, I turned it on my phone and let the premise take me away. The moment it graced my screen, for the first time in many years, I could feel the dark clad entity I used to be returning like a gentle storm, and I let it wrap me in its comforting embrace.  

The Crow, a Graphic novel penned by James O’ Barr in 1989, later became a cult classic movie in 1994. Eric Draven and his fiancée Shelly Webster were murdered by street thugs, part of a gang that was run by a man named Top Dollar. A year past and Eric is resurrected by a crow, under the lore that they have the power to bring souls back to finish business that was left behind. He sets out on a quest for vengeance, murdering all those involved from the bottom of the food chain to the head of the organization. In his down time, he is plagued by memories of her and his own guilt that he cannot shake. When the killing is finished, Shelley comes to him and takes him home. I’d always wanted a man like Eric; kind, loving, handsome, and brave, but I finally stopped chasing shadows and started writing about them instead. It was an escape from my own shitty existence and it helped me grow in confidence as a writer.  

From a young age that movie captivated me and when I was able, I purchased the novel, both the original and re-release with an introduction by James himself, and an extra chapter. Reading how he spoke about his deceased girlfriend and the death of Brandon Lee, his guilt in what he deemed as him causing both lives to be lost, his search for justice that was denied, it was everything I could identify with. Eternal romance and just rewards for evil have always played a theme in my writing. I need to get back to it.  

Since I hadn’t been able to get the rest of my books and I wasn’t ready to deal with more of Mother’s pity party and guilt trips, I chose to return to the bookstore and see if they had a copy on hand. I figured it would be easier than waiting on one to be mailed in, though I’d do so if there was no other option. I was nervous not knowing how this visit would turn out, especially after the last encounter. Had he been joking or serious? Was he looking down on or chastising me for my attitude regarding relationships, or was he just trying to get a feel for my character since I was an outsider? A customer had, thankfully, interrupted our conversation before and I knew it was too much to hope that it would happen again. As well, I no longer had Prime through Amazon and I didn’t want to fork over the cost of shipping something that weighed no more than a pound. Biting the bullet and dawning my hoodie to blend in, I drove to the city and walked back in the uplifting environment.  

(Continued in part 2)

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Unexpected (Continued from part 2)

  “And you’ve given up”. It wasn’t a question. He truly thought me a woman that was in a depression spiral and spending money on new objects to make myself feel better. He was unamused by this. By me. 

“I’m not looking, I qualified with a shrug of my shoulders. “If it happens, I’ll be open to it, but I’m not chasing every person that crosses my path. If it doesn’t, I can do bad by myself, and enjoy the experience”. I wasn’t opening the door for him, and I could see by his renewed upright stance that he’d more than understood my meaning. I would meet him outside my space if he wanted a word or be given the time of day, but he wanted to cross the threshold, it would mean more than one night, a series of dates, or a one-night stand. I was looking to create a life with someone. It meant dates, time spent in each other's company, one track for moving in together, and even if marriage wasn’t on the table, then a commitment that lasted the length was expected. I was a simple girl at heart, who knew what I wanted and wouldn’t alter my course for anyone. Perhaps he was intimidated, as everyone else had been, but I could no longer tell.  

At that moment, a customer came around and captured his attention, and I was free to peruse the books at my leisure. I was both grateful to the patron for taking him before it continued, and mortified that my newfound peace had reached its end. If he meant to take such steps and enter my life, it was a game of chance all over again, and I had to ask myself, was I ready to go down that path again, knowing failure might be waiting like a long-lost friend? Then again, this was just friendly conversation between two strangers, and I had a bad habit of overthinking. Poirot, a character from the ABC Murder Series said, “The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to seekers after it”. Maybe he was trying to figure out mine, or was I was trying to find something beautiful where there wasn’t anything? He also said, “It is a profound belief of mine that if you can induce a person to talk to you for long enough, on any subject whatever! Sooner or later, they will give themselves away”. Was he hoping to unravel my strength and find a girl begging for attention, or was it only that this town was as boring as watching paint dry, and he craved something in me that was reflected in him? For once, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but this turn of events had left me in a flutter and I had to take a moment before continuing my original quest, lest I walk out with some awful written fantasy. 

Now at home, I’m still not sure what may come of it. If the time came that he called and wanted to take me on, would I have the stamina to see it through, or would I be the one to step back again? I’ve always hated going forward when I’m not sure of the outcome. There was too much to lose when you weren’t able to see the ending. Perhaps I am jaded from the life I’ve lived and I need to keep to my seclusion. I know that I have missed the comfort of a warm body and craved what it could give to me. Coming with that, however, was always the downside of after; having to speak, share my thoughts, give time I wanted to spend doing other things. When the bottom fell out, as it always did, I was left feeling like a bad person and the backlash was irritating. There’s also the possibility that being a realist has caught up to me and sucked the joy out of living, but I’d rather be safe than sorry in the end. I must live with myself when no one else does and I am done being a depressed burrito hiding from the world. Time will tell, but I do know this; my time here has softened the wolven heart and I feel comfortable with myself to walk through the storm. If something does come of it, I can be assured in my personal strength. It’s amazing what time to yourself can accomplish. Now I just need to make some tea and start in this new world at my fingertips. Hetty Brown, let’s see how your life turns out.  

FIN

[moonbeam-dreamer]

 Unexpected (Continued from part 1)

  I became engrossed with a novel of a woman who lived as a servant in a household and was a near twin of the lady of the home's daughter. She traveled on the Lusitania and both the mother and woman drowned. She was mistaken for the daughter but rather than keep her title of servant, she didn't correct their assumptions, and went on to have a good life. His voice pulled me from the beginning pages and his kindness was disarming. 

        "Your library is going to be full soon".  

        His eyes caught my attention; a light, beautiful blue that shown like mirrors. The gentle visage put me at ease, but I was momentarily struck dumb. The perfectly cut raven hair gave him a darker, gothic appearance, and my weakness for this chiseled type was trying to overcome. I floundered under the waves of desire and hope, yet managed to pull myself together. Someone as good looking couldn't be single. Especially with his muscled build and how his figure looked in the black uniform. I gave him a once over before offering a kind smile, the same I'd give a customer that approached my desk needing to check out. 

        "I'll just have to build more shelves". Hell, I'd build a shed in the backyard and use it for storage. If the book wasn't worth keeping, I'd sell it back to the store and find something else.  

        "Your husband not good with his hands?"  

        I knew what he was doing. The leading comments were never hard to miss, and just because I was cynical of others, didn't mean I paranoid. He was being sarcastic while trying to gain information. I was never one to lie, so why start now? 

        “I don’t have one”, I stated dismissively while putting the novel in the hand basket. They didn’t make books with plotlines that simple anymore, and I was already hooked for what came next. I didn’t miss the way his shoulders straightened and he seemed a little more cautious. Obviously, this struck the chord he was hoping for. 

       “Any reason?”  

        His tone was genuinely curious. Maybe I had some horrible ailment that I was concealing, did I, perhaps, swing the other direction, or I was some uptight witch that wanted a man with millions in his bank to spend for whatever I wanted? His mind had to be turning with possibilities. I could drag this out, but I never did like games. They grew old fast and the rules were constantly changing. I put a stop to it all a long time ago.  

       “They lack the constitution to be with me”. At this I met his gaze. Better to bring it out in the open and quash his hopes than lead him through falsehood. “Either I’m too demanding by wanting an actual life, they live too far away and can’t go the distance, or the drama that used to encompass my life was too much for them. Between my health issues and my now ex homelife, they get tired and I do away with them”. The last four relationships I ended for these reasons alone, and I never looked back after.  

        His look surprised me. One eyebrow lifted, judging the weight of my words against that of my body language. He was piecing together what I’d told him and trying to decide if he wanted to stick it out or call it quits. Most would just laugh and tell me how they were different from everyone else. They would seek to reassure me with words that they were strong men and not little boys, but didn’t they turn out that way in the end? I expected him to shrug his shoulders and skulk away with apologies, while telling me to have a nice day. Rather, he seemed to lean a little against the shelf, as if he had time to listen, but also bringing his own curiosity under control. I gathered there weren’t many interesting girls around if he was talking to an outsider. Then again, he wasn’t like the prissy dressed townsfolk. The gothic in me recognized the darkness in him and I felt comfortable in a way that was nearly foreign to me.  

      To Be Continued...

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Unexpected

I don't know how it happened, and I don't I'll ever understand the circumstances or graces that helped it come about. As Friedrich Nietzche said, 'Amor Fati- "Love Your Fate", which is in fact your life.'   

        I was told I didn't have much of one, but that was fine by me. I didn't have to travel the world and see the sights to feel a sense of accomplishment and worldliness. Books, role playing, and day dreaming opened portals to places the real world could never take me to, and I didn't have to spend thousands of dollars I would never have again to make it possible. Maybe it's because I grew up scrimping by and always lived paycheck to paycheck that made me appreciate what I had rather than seeking more. It's why the opinions of others bothered me to an extent, but I was able to brush it off at the end of the day. Besides, when we all meet the same end, it isn't going to matter where you went, the distance traveled, or the things you did along the way. The people whose lives you helped, the good deeds you accomplished, and the image you left in your wake will be what people speak of when they stand at the podium and give you a final send off. Personally, I've always wanted to be remembered as kind, helpful, but also a person that took no shit, knew what I wanted, and didn't stop until I had it.  

        Moving out here, I expected to live quietly and just see how life went. I'd broken up with my boyfriend after he ghosted me for two months, cut down my friend's list to only the ones that who showed me that they wanted a friendship, and put myself into a strictly work oriented mindset so I could build my savings. I'd go into town, a good 30-minute drive, and stock up what I needed to last me a couple of weeks. Of course, it took me by a bookstore and I never withheld from grabbing a novel or two, especially on sale days. When they advertised that you could buy a bag of old books for $5, I filled up four. Older literature was always based on history, life, and the good and bad that came with it. For some reason, reading about someone else's life and their drama was a greater distraction from my own. I had a set routine that I stuck to, mainly because of the distance, but my own work hours and the fatigue that came with it made it so I barely left the house. Surely that meant that no one noticed me, even with the side glances I received from the locals. I am still an outsider and I'm okay with that. However, it seems that when I wasn't looking, life came calling. 

        The bookstore was quiet that Saturday. People were taking the opportunity to spend some time out of town with the sun and the warm winds giving a reprieve from the rain. Since I didn't have anything planned out, I took my time among the shelves and stacks with a paper bag. There had been an estate sale from an elderly woman that passed away and what her family couldn't sell to the public, they bartered with the local businesses. There was a decent sized collection and I managed to find some novels of interest. Who knew that books published in the 1930's and 40's would hold the attention of someone born in the 80's? I've always been an old soul at heart. Perhaps that's the reason I've always loved having a simple life? The smell of the pages was like the perfect incense and I was becoming lost under its spell. I could hear a set of footsteps walking in the room, and I assumed it was just another patron coming to view the wares. When I came back to the beginning to take a second look, I saw one of the employees stocking a few empty spaces with more from the woman's home. Usually, I wouldn't hesitate to go up and have a look, but I'd put on a few pounds and I was feeling my confidence waver. Rather, I waited for him to leave and pretended to still be perusing the shelf I was standing in front of.  

To be continued...

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Solace

The crack of the fire in the hearth mingles with the gentle breeze, and the comforting heat works to drive away the chill of the afternoon. It was a day of mixed emotions, hardships, and revelations that I still haven't been able to reconcile. It's these moments that makes me appreciate the friends that chose to stick around when given the option to flee.

I have always been my own worst critic and when people lash out with unkind words, I never know if they are rooted in truth or wildly blown out of proportion. Thank growing up with a narcissist. The smallest act of kindness towards yourself is seen as a slight towards them and made into a situation as large as Mount Everest. I have never been able to understand why people choose to adopt this route when talking could defuse the explosion. I know I'm not the best person in the world, and I can be difficult to have around, but I try my best.

I was writing with a friend, a role play of sorts, and was following her lead. I thought everything was fine, but she stopped responding. After a few days I asked if all was okay and she told me it was, that she just had company over and was gaming. I told her I understood, and just sent little messages, random thoughts, that she could read when she was able. After an hour she sent me a message that did multiple things at once. It made me seem like a sexual deviant who only wanted to write smut, though she brought up scenarios as much as I. That I was an attention seeker who was trying to keep her from her boyfriend and friends, though that was never the case. She used to message me even with him around and while gaming, so I didn't understand why now was a problem? She made our writing and my friendship seem like a burden and said she was glad it was ended. Lastly, she made me out to be a snowflake that couldn't take criticism, simply because I could bring up instances to prove that I was not the only one to blame. Once work ended, I sent messages to a few friends asking their advice, and decided on a walk through the woods.

The cold winds of Autumn cut through my long-sleeved shirt and leggings, but I kept going. My heart ached replaying her words and all I asked myself was how I could have messed up so badly? I'd followed the ideas they'd had and tried to keep with the theme. I was going down a shame spiral and tears fell into the dirt. Disgust welled up within me, and I considered never writing again. Sitting by the river, I let the emotions overtake and wept for the first time in months. Was I truly this deplorable? Was there something wrong with me? How could I have been so stupid as to take on something that wasn't plotted to begin with?

My phone blew up with messages. Each told me the same story in similar words and context, while citing examples. I was not to blame. She'd tried for constructive criticism but when words failed, she flew into a personal assault and attempted to gaslight me, making me seem as if I alone forced her to take this step. An hour flew by with them telling me not give up, and to take what she said with a grain of salt. Especially after she tried to blame me for her mental health failing. I lifted myself up from the bubble of grief and took the road back home.

I still struggle with putting this knowledge unto the forefront of my mind and knowing that what they say is right. I have been making strides to better myself, and nothing I could have done would bring about what she'd said of me. It's made me leery of writing with anyone I don't know personally, lest it happens again, but I will continue with my personal writing, creating new ideas, and making new worlds for people to explore. It's my calling.

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Beautiful Day Dreams

(Continuation from part one) After closing out another "friendship", I took some time off of social media to focus on my healing path. Each tarot pull told me what had been coming, how to read the signs, and that I needed to do what was best for me. Taking that advice, I didn't look back at what I'd done and judge. I thought of my own wants and needs. I got back into writing, created new worlds and characters. I deleted multiplayer games that were just a constant reminder of what I didn't have, let go of games I'd spent a year in playing online with people from around the world, and jumped back into being myself. Most people called it 'boring', because I chose not to party, be around noise for the sake of keeping people in my corner and kept to myself the daily goings on of parent drama, but I didn't mind. I went back into the world of role play and opened up to other creator's ideas. My nightly dreams took on new life, giving me ideas to throw around and turn into creations. Good, bad, strange, fantasy, real life, it was all the same. I found eager partners that wanted to build from the ground up and never minded giving as much as stepping back and letting the plot develop. When I wasn't posting, I would lay in my bed, under the blue lights, and go through in my mind certain scenes or ones I wanted to play out. I could lose myself in Lofi beats on Spotify or YouTube, then write these worlds on virtual paper. I put together my binders of character information, story ideas, research I'd done on the various topics, and set up a Papyrus account so I could use a system akin to Microsoft Word and just let myself go. Daydreams became a means of releasing my stress and I found new parts of myself that I came to enjoy. I could sit for hours outside and find pleasure in the peace. I wasn't working to please anyone, taking up errands just to hang out, feeling like I was unimportant or a kid on the short bus because people made excuses and couldn't hang out. I didn't have to take their trouble in with my own, and in doing so, I grew up. I was finally comfortable and strong enough to speak my mind. I wasn't giving in to avoid an argument. Rather, I stood up, yelled for the world to hear, and marched to the beat of my own drum. It was priceless. Without having to take someone into consideration, I came to enjoy the waking hours. Those who knew me from before, the ones that didn't stick around, told me I was intimidating, and it gave me a laugh. If 'intimidating' meant that I wasn't being shy, I could hold my own in a group, I voiced my thoughts without concern, and gave people the finger when they tried to challenge my personal authority, then absolutely! I openly chased what I wanted and worked to do what I knew was right. They asked if I wouldn't miss the companionship, and I told them the truth. "If I have to sit and worry over doing something to please someone, then everyone can go away, and I will find the tribe that best suits me". And I did. Exes have tried to return, both friend and relationship, and I have closed the door to all. I wake up with a sense of purpose I won't hand over, and I stay in this world of day dreams, writing, creativity, gaming, journaling, and freedom. People can say I lost more than I gained, but from my perspective, I became who I needed to ensure I was protected and it will stand the test of time. Now as I walk in this green space, I know I'll be okay. I may be secluded, miles from anyone, no company save a cat and a computer that connects me to the world, but I am far from lonely. Life is beautiful, and I will continue to float in those dreams until my time has faded.

FIN

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Beautiful Day Dreams

Love. I never knew it could feel like this. How open, freeing, and addicting.

When someone hears of the word, they picture a couple walking, hand clasped, down a street, or cuddled together at the end of a long day. They envision Valentine's Day cards exchanged, a man getting down on one knee to propose, and an eventual marriage with kids to follow. All of the beautiful things we read in story books, watch in movies, and can view through Pinterest, Instagram, and Tik Tok reels. This love, however, can never compare to the moments between two people and weighs nothing, whereas a relationship can be fleeting and snatched away with a wandering gaze. For years I chased the idea of being in a relationship meant for two, only for those men to pass me over, gaslight, stalk, and end up ghosting me. I dealt with being trodden on and forced to make the difficult decision of whether to stay or go. My mental health was affected, and each came at a time when I had neither family nor friend at my back. It left me feeling betrayed, abandoned, and hopelessly adrift in a world of loneliness. There were times I took it out on myself or chose to jump all in at work and forget the healing I needed. The last time held promise. We talked for over two years and made plans to meet. If everything went well, he was going to move to my town and start a life here. We practiced the same beliefs, worked together through the chaos that was my life, and he encouraged, spoiled, and uplifted me when my bad days came to pass. He got sick and dropped contact. I worried he'd been taken to a hospital and was dying. I searched daily through the obits but turned up nothing. He didn't answer on social media or text. During that time, friends ignored my messages, family was of no help, and I shut down in the process. I hardened myself because I knew it was time. I cut off contact with those that treated me like a background friend, stood up to my self-seeking family members, and worked hard at my job to rise through the ranks. I was finally proud of myself for doing what I'd always needed to. It became strange after three months. All of the people that vanished started to trickle back. They messaged, expecting me to be as I was, but I left them on read. After a week or two of no responses, they asked me what was wrong, and I unleashed. I told them I was worth more than what I was getting. I wasn't going to be like my mother and spell out everything I had done in the years of friendship. I've had that happen and I was never one for an ego boost. Each of them got the terms applied; step up and prove what you're saying, or take the L, and walk away for good. Many of them understood and actually put in the effort. The ones that chose to guilt, harangue, and throw in my face what they'd done, I shut it down. I was over it, and walked with my head held high. He popped up online as well. I sent messages wanting an explanation, and it turned out, he was just fine. He'd lost his job due to illness and taken another that he didn't really care for, but that moment became clear. He said he didn't know what the best option was for us, and I asked him to call so we could talk. For two days he said he'd call, but never did. I suspected that he had someone else, but rather than react, I told him that it was better he just think about himself and we part ways. I deserved more than doubt and I wasn't going to forever wait for him to be certain. (End part one)

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Rainy Day Bliss

Rain. That most beautiful and cleansing of elements that Mother Nature provides. The world slows and crawls along to a beat that is sleepy, cathartic, and gentle. Even as thunder comes behind and echoes across the landscape, you can feel the wondrous creation that she bestows and stand in awe of her power. That lyrical voice is a melody that calls to all to listen and brings closure to another cycle.

Once upon a time I both loved and dreaded the downpours. Showers meant buckets stationed between gaping holes in the roof being emptied, an increase in mold, cold pushing deep into your soul, and a weariness that kept hold until you were able to sleep or merely passed out from exhaustion. Newspaper was scattered across the floor to catch what the pails missed, clothes were soaked with the off-color falls, and anger was quick to catch. There was nothing for it but to continue until the end, when you fell into your bed weary, weak, and feeling as if you've walked ten miles in a downpour that threatened to pull you under. As I now sit by my fireplace, wrapped in a cotton blanket, with a hot mug of tea in my hands, I'm forever thankful for this quiet little place and I brush the memories of the past as they try to bring my CPTSD to the surface. I smile, knowing the slumlord must be having fun trying to contain the mess. Little does he know that we put in to have it condemned and soon the inspector will be at his door. It will be a fitting end to his tyranny that lasted too many years.

Today I made a smart move and turned off my cell. Mother would, no doubt, be calling to have me come over and do work that she just "couldn't" get to. Failing this she'd text and try through messenger. A last resort would be my father. Neither know where I live, and I can take time before facing the backlash of what they perceived as 'abandonment'. After a hellish work week and dealing with a prude that gives no regard for any coworker, I am taking a much-needed downtime. Her irritation has always resembled wrapping yourself up in a wet blanket and jumping into a pool. You drowned under the weight of it. My headaches have been more frequent, and doctors have grown concerned over my rising blood pressure. I can't do much about her, but now that I don't have to put myself through the gauntlet of mother's jealousy and my father's callousness, a new world of bliss has opened before me, and I will eagerly chase it.

Tonight, however, is something I will look forward to. Summer has officially taken hold and warm weather is the order of the day. By 7pm it will be 81 degrees and once nighttime has rolled over the landscape, I'll light my candles, fill the wooden bath with a mixture of water and rose petals, and sink down for a relaxing soak in the woods that surround me. There's nothing better than bathing under the moonlight and feeling the warm wind caress your skin. With a playlist of night music from Spotify or YouTube playing in the background, I can lose myself to nature and recharge the batteries that were burned out during the week. When I lived at the house, I used to do this, but you had to be careful. Neighbors were nosey, cars drove by, and you were never able to relax when you were worried about someone stopping by. It was never fun when my father messaged me that he was ready to take me to the store and I'd have to rush the process so he wouldn't question why I was outdoors in the nude.

My heart lightens as I ease back in my armchair and wait for my role play partners to respond. I have no obligations, no visitations, and no schedule to keep me from lounging the day away. I still fight the guilt that comes from growing up in a toxic household, but therapy is getting me back on track. In my parent's house, if things weren't already done by the time someone got home from work, you didn't do enough during the day. If you hadn't accomplished a goal, gotten an award, or learned a useful skill, then you were lazy. The doc told me to focus on process over perfection. I wouldn't be able to get everything done that needs to be within a week or a year. You have to see them as a process. I needed to look at everything I did accomplish. She also told me that my parent's measure of self-worth was not a realistic way of looking at life. They had their own faults and pushed their expectations on others. Now that I was away from that environment, I could set healthy boundaries for myself, establish realistic goals, and learn how to breathe. It wasn't easy but each day I didn't mentally berate myself for sitting back and letting the world pass would be a win.

Sighing, I close my eyes and wait for the notifications to roll in. Rain peppers the window and thunderheads echo. My cat joins me for the quiet time, and we both begin to drift into a sweet nothingness that is our reward.

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Home Sweet Home. When I first moved here, my heart was in my throat. Such a distance from the city and everything I'd known, plus the isolation, I worried how I might survive if something were to happen. I wasn't inept at taking care of a home. The last one I'd lived in had been a slum home and shown itself over time. The landlord didn't pay for a proper roof and parts caved in. The entire living room ceiling followed. Mold was abundant, and the rats that made themselves pretty little nests all over the property. The plumbing and wiring were a joke. I learned to snake drains, clear grease clogs, work on air conditioning units, ground wires, and take care of a lawn mower. My mother guilted me into staying, saying I had to help her, my father, and myself get into a better one, but my father didn't mind me leaving. He knew it was time and did everything to help push me out the door. Not that I resisted. I packed up my VW van and drove to a place I'd found through my boss and the moment I stepped foot on the property, I knew it would all be okay. A dirt path led to the front door and flower bushes grew wild beside it. The little attic bedroom window above faced down the lane and was first to be greeted by the sun in the morning. The living room and kitchen were connected in a beautiful open space, and the bathroom, while small, had a large tub and shower combination to make me feel right at home. The fireplace would serve its purpose on the colder nights and the forests were stocked with all the wood I would ever need. Town was a 30-minute drive with beautiful, winding lanes, and several lakes scattered throughout. I considered myself lucky. I'd escaped a tyrant, and this home had all the fresh air to calm the nervousness I'd experienced the moment I drove away. I was single and proud of it. The last relationships I'd been through ended with me being ghosted, then given excuses when they returned. I ended each of them without falling victim to a repeat process. They still tried to contact me, but I left them all on read. This was my time, now. I'd put in the work, rode those hard hours of sickness, struggling through the days, and a needed surgery to remove painful cysts. I'd cared for my family when the siblings left and never spared a backwards glance. I deserved a good life after these trials, or so I was told. I was just happy to have a place that was mine. My books could go where I wanted, music played loudly, late night gaming sessions without having to clean up after someone, save my two cats, and they were never a hassle. In the sunshine of the April season I found my health returned and blossomed. Every day I find some new adventure and sit down with my laptop to write a book. I gaze out the window as the rain falls and smile. I'll work through the guilt of leaving and one day I won't feel so horrible. Until then, I'll strive to be worthy of the place I've been given and teach others to do the same.