As i look through my glass door, i see the reflection of the sun colliding towards my eyes. Everything in the sun has a light orange color, perfect for mornings. The landscape i see reminds me only of child stories built over and over in my mind. This is what you call rolling hills. in the left, i notice few houses in between each luscious fields growing at natures will. The fields are thriving. i look farther out and i see giant, yet elegant mountains. These mountains shine over all i see. my eyes wander down to notice a small lake. Small in comparison to beauteous lakes such as Tahoe and the Great Lakes. this small lake has formed constant ripples from the caressing breeze to start a day. Just below me, a deer prunes the overgrown bushes. The deer's fur rustled from something i may never know. I look to the sky to notice the ragged, torn, yet continual clouds. some prominent, others, not so. The last thing i pick up is the circular swiss cheese in the sky. The cheese falling back from it's strong, bright moment of fame. My feet are cold against the wood floor, and i remember i have i life to catch up to. I must let time take its course as the landscape will.

It was 12:50 in the morning and I finally chose to go to bed. Naturally, I did my routine. I blindly stumbled and got a cup of water, turned on the fan, and stumbled back through the black door. It was 12:59. As I entered, I made sure that the door was open wide for fluid air to refresh my room. I knocked my knees on the side of my bed and crawled into my ratted red blanket. As I finally got settled, the oddly shaped plastic handle for the raising of the ***** teal window shades started to tap at an easy, slow rhythm, and never seemed to slow down. Gradually, the handle started to quiet down. There was a faint creaking sound from somewhere in my room and it almost seemed in time with the distant tapping. As the tapping got quieter and the creaking grew louder, I started to sweat and my mind was racing uncontrollably. Suddenly the black door slammed, and the fluid air shut down. All was quiet, even the cars seemed to stop moving outside. I closed my eyes for some reason I’m still not sure. Maybe I was scared, maybe I was trying to face fear, maybe, just maybe, I was waiting for the right moment. All I know is that door is not open. It is 1:00 in the morning

“Hello”. I could hear that word spoken in a solid, yet slightly sadistic voice. The word almost drowned out by my body’s natural urge to find stability. I could only think of the show in my head, I should be on stage pleasing my thousands, well, pushing a few hundred fans and making them beg for an over the top encore that would happen anyway. Instead of being on that stage, I was in this room, my body horizontal with white ceilings you would only see in a house of a human with obsessive compulsive disorder, or in a hospital. I had no reason to be in a stranger’s house, so through deduction, I have figured out I was in a hospital. The ceiling was coming into focus and I heard the same voice ask
“Is there anybody in there?”.That seemed like a very odd statement. Of course I am in here. My eyes are open and staring at your white walls, I'm here.
This man I was hearing now came in my range of sight. He came in through the left. He had on a plain baby blue bandanna that almost seemed like a hat you would see on a ******* biker with a soft side. He also had on a mask covering all his mouth and the tip of his nose. This mask matched the biker cloth he had on.
To the right came a person with the same bandanna and mask, the same color too. Was this a gang? In a hospital? This human had straightened long brown hair; this human must be of the female gender. She spoke to me, in a worried shaken tone, she said
“Just nod if you can hear me”. I started to nod, but the movement brought a black shade over my eyes. I blacked out. It brought me back to a memory, but I was viewing all of it in a third perspective. The sun had set, and the soft yellow tint of the street lights lit the area. It was quite an empty part of the town. The past I was standing at a motel. I was on the second floor about 7 and a half feet from a frazzled man. He was still young, about my age, I must have been about 23 at this time. I assumed this was my brother. He was screaming something about hating. He was screaming at his girlfriend, slamming at the door, and totally drunk. He was quite good at multitasking. Finally in a distressed voice, almost whispering, he groaned.
“Is there anyone home?”. Those words screamed at me, like it meant something.
The white walls were coming back again. No one was in the room. How long was I out for?
I rested, and thought about what happened, and I could not remember what happened to get me in here or what I saw during that blackout. (to be continued…)

A boy’s last kiss to show he is still there
A man’s last drink to swallow his dreams and fear
A boy’s smile on an ever-growing face
A man’s ill-content grumble and a fermented taste
A door swung open
A rattle of car keys
Two engines starting
A boy’s last words to show affection
A man’s last gulp and right foot leaned forward
A boy’s lost look of fear
A man’s lost care
A boy’s hospital high above
A man’s tombstone not to move
A boy’s slow breath
A man’s death
A boy’s subconscious awakening
A man’s lack of movement
A boy’s sight of raining tears
The wet mud
A boy’s jump for freedom
The movement of decomposition
A boy’s car, new again
The years
The choice of revenge, or acceptance
The broken bottle
The first breath after coma
No breath after death

This dream is engrained
Every detail and movement
I see her and I cower at the thought
Why did i dream that?
Why did i think of her?
I barely know her.
This dream gives me pain
I never want that
I will never tell about my nightmare
this torturous thought
this heart ripping, souless idea.

John Carr was his name. He found himself on the corner of Mill and Main, a very respectable road for the area. He climbed over a rusted car eroding over time to see a gun fire to a yound woman and her baby sprawled in road. John walked to the man, their eyes still violently shaking from adrenaline. The two men prepared themselves with the smoking gun. John, defensless, undressed all he had until his bare bones carved the air. He rested his knees on the black pavement riddled with history, and prayed. John Carr’s splattered blood touched the babies’ hand.

It was raining today at a town in Nevada, the odd thing about this town was that it never got cold rain, this rain seemed to come directly from the tropics. No one wore coats on this day, and no one held umbrellas to cover them from the rain. The warmth of this rain brought excitement to this small town like they never see before that.  This was a special day in the High School of this small town, but no one felt it, only a few will ever understand why today in the warm rain is such a special day. Two people feelings come together today, and it will be one of the most blossoming relationships to ever occur on this earth. This couple will go on to help thousands of Struggling Families and tattering couples get back on track, but this story is not about their accomplishments, but of their feelings, thoughts, and strong love for each other at an early age.
This young, hard working, and quiet boy’s name is Michael, and he hasn’t found where he belongs in this school yet. He has friends who he eats lunch with, but he is barely part of their life. It seems to him, that he is literally invisible to his peers, his elders, and anyone in between. All this never really bothered him because he never knew what feelings were as a friend or as a person in general. In fact when she started thinking continuously about one girl, he did not understand at all why he was doing such an odd thing. He was a good boy, he knew what school was about and the only real woman he’s come close to is his mother. He shouldn’t be having these feelings. Even though it made no sense, he still thought what color she likes, if she wanted roses or lilies, and all the questions needed to know to make the move without making a fool out himself. He didn’t understand love and really was worried for his health.  On this special day, under the warm rain, he never knew what would happen, nor did he feel it, but it did happen, and it changed his life. Leaving his English class, he stepped into the heated rain started heading towards his Algebra class continually thinking about this girl he sees every day, and will see her in a few moments. There was a bit of a clearing where the lockers were settled, and he was starting to walk by her just to see her before he went to the next class. As he started to walk by, she closed her locker, and then was shoved out of the crowd trying to get to the lockers. She was shoved straight into Michaels arms. His books dropped and she replaced it all. She stood in his arms and he was speechless. She was a bit disoriented, and as she looked up, her hair flowed down her face. She looked into his dark green eyes drenched in passion staring at her secret love, and they both felt so much passion never felt before. She was saying nothing to him, just starting into his eyes. Somewhere in Michael’s mind, it kept telling him it was dream. The world around him meant nothing at all. People walked by both of them like they were statues. They couldn’t move at all, and they never did. Finally, the girl shocked out of this beautiful trance, and realized what was happening. She started apologizing and handing his book to him. After Michael got all his books, still speechless, gave a small nod. She said “My names Charlotte” and he realized he has never even known her name. Michael finally did something  “Michael” was all he could stutter. She gave the most beautiful  smile he has ever seen.

Meet Daniel. This is the man (or ghost) that haunts your house with only the worst intentions. He is what pushes all that darkness, fear, and hatred towards your soul while you helplessly turn towards that side you spat at only a minute ago. He loves to torture your dreams and hopefully distort your life permanently. As he moves along through the houses on the block, two items come with him, a dark orb told to be able to pass him into the dreams of all, and a pitch black skeletal poodle with every hair telling a story of each dream of the world. Daniel wears a black cloak layered over and over again and stiffened to the point of each layer flipping out and not moving. Although his whole body distinctively floats over the moon lit floors and his breath is gone, you can sometimes feel the thumping of something in your house, sometimes it sounds like a shy mouse skittering through the kitchen or a massive walrus flopping and leaving a wet trail behind. As he enters your blissful dream, his cold breath freezes your ear and locks all out of your mind. Your dream seems to take a turn for the worse too suddenly your happy moment becomes a nightmare and then so much worse. It becomes reality.

My voice was vanished, destroyed as I stood in front of her, in her way I grunted, smiled, she smiled I slowly stepped out of her way, stumbling, trying to catch my step. Some kids turned and looked, others laughed but as I stepped out of her way, I turned towards her as she walked away, and then all the kids laughed and laughed and one kid said “nice try”
But I didn’t listen. I dazed at the dull, gray ceiling, not that there was anything special except some gum a few webs tucked in the corner. But it was as though the ceiling was a background for the video being played in my mind, of the other times I passed by her, and this one was stored with the rest. As time flew, I took no notice. I just stared at the old gray ceiling as thought it was the most amazing thing in a 3rd graders life. Her.., Oh her, that girls name is Melanie, the way it slipped of my bright pink tongue was astounding and she was, although very free and alone, friends with the rest of the kids with the over expensive pants and shirts, not because they are sturdy but because the money set them directly with “the group”. She was different, she had no costly clothes, it was her attitude that everyone wanted to be around her for. I, am a different story my parents are a middle-class citizens, as they told me at least. I do not have friends, I do not want friends, I am a loner. All I need is me, my homework, and my thoughts. Kids won’t dare say “Hi” to me; their precious reputation will go dramatically down. I don’t know why she did it, maybe as a bet or a joke, or she knew she wouldn’t lose anything in the end, but Melanie became my friend.

Bullets littered the black pavement. Each clip for each man. Groups who did not see eye to eye, has made this once respectable street a storm of misunderstanding. A worn car outfitted for the mission at hand skid to a stop. The ruthness confrontation waged forward, caught a a brutal stalemate. The men and guns forced a futile attempt to charge in. Soon the streets became littered with the organs of loyalty. Only hours later, the winds whipered stories of total loss for all. Mill and Main was left with decomposition, and a car. Rusting over time.

The rich woody sound of the saxophones steady the sharp, yet smooth timing of the trumpet’s muted horn. A tapping blues rhythm sinks the whole sound through a connection to corresponding beats. Over all the solemn chaos rapping through the eternal war of brass and woodwinds came a godly sound pointing out the direction of the whole bickering band. The top Trombone leads the solo of the blues piece and soars through it as though he was reminiscing of the bright times as a young boy, and you can see tears come to the point of being exposed and fade away as the solo and dream slowly dissipate from the strong, passionate phrases. The barry sax stands up for his gritty solo to talk back, he sets himself in the song and drifts away only to come back by the strong powerful boom of the bass drum. As you stand by the judges, you notice they have put all the judging behind and started to slowly tap with the band’s appealing rhythm; no notes are put down; no intimidating growl, just the tap of the foot and the swift but slow recognition of what was here today. Ladies and gentlemen this is the Nevada Union Jazz Band.

I'm Stuck here
no place to go
no defense
knocked by the blow
i am calm
ready for a hit
wishing for loss
every wind knocks me
maybe the next will be it.

I stare at her. Her wrinkles, her hand, and even what you may call clothes. I see her two twins. their bowl cut dreadfully ragged. The boy's faces i do not see, for they are cuddled in the safety that mother tries to provide. i grow curious for their true faces and what they have become over the years. i look at their situation. i look again at mother. i do not focus on the wrinkles, or the hand, but the feeling in her eyes that is holding back. she never wanted this for the kids. she never wanted this at all. her eyes are strong and powerful, but weakened from grief and remorse. i look down to her left hand. it is covered by a baby boy splattered with the dirt they call home, but no tears. in the edge of my sight, i see a log. just a log. i look one more time at their situation. i grow fond of her hand, the way it is placed on the face, the feeling, and pressure made on the stressed body. was her hand cold? was this hand support in a time of need?

I entered this tunnel in hoped of being happier, and closer to my potential future. People used to tell me all about how it truly was greener on the other side. The last time I have heard a voice besides me and my mind must have been longer than I can remember because I truly forgot what it sounds like.
                I have become accustomed to the uncomforting black that has surrounded every moment since the last window passed which only come about every other thousand steps. I have come to the conclusion that I am dramatically slowing down because it has become longer and longer before I have had the piercing rays of hope shine on me.
                There seems to be a speck of light at the end, but I am not positive anymore because I cannot tell the difference between my mind and reality. It could be truly the end, or just my wishes and hopes playing tricks on me once again.
                I stripped off my last piece of clothing and dropped it onto the gravel. I would sacrifice all I had to this hole in desperate hopes that it will, in turn, show me the way out of him onto the grassy, better side. As my shirt is slowly shed from my body, I can feel the cold, dry, unrelenting breath strike my deprived chest. The heavy blow knocked me to my knees, and my knees bled. I staggered up to push on. I have no reason to continue, and yet, I do. Sometimes, I ponder whether all this suffering is worth what might be on the other side. I had no proof of what they said; I just trusted their fading words.
The light I saw earlier now has grown, and now I know it is a real light, but I am still not hopeful. The light sends a loud horn to bellow through the icy stone walls. As it reaches me, I squint to see where I have been, and where I am, and what I have accomplished by torturing myself for this tunnel that shall give none in return. I hit the colored metal, and it drags me back to where I once was. I am to never see the other side. Maybe it is for the best.

Chapter 1

Gloomy day  that day. Even the bugs had a depression hit, and crawled into their holes and webs to bout over their small and meager lives. The roads were wet from the air, and my P.O.S. van scratched out the traffic. This day was not one for living. It was a gloomy day today. I walked from my car to my school with music in one ear. The music gave the fog a surreal atmosphere, and it added more as I overheard someone complaining about the weather and how its shockingly close comparison to a human could not make up its mind. I walked down the stairs, and in the break of the fog, I saw my beautiful girlfriend standing, waiting for me. I performed my routine to show my love. A kiss, a hug, and so on. She only stood there. It took me this far to realize something was wrong. This has only happened a few times before, and each time I had a whole flock of crows explode from unrest and bounce about in my stomach, trying to find an exit. I had this fear about these that she would say the dreaded words and end the relationship. They mostly came around as family problems or a death in the family, and the best cure is some tea and chocolate. This time around, I had only a few black crows seem to find their way in me, and I was ready for to hear all her mom’s rage towards her. One hand on her back, I asked. And even with so much strength do get ready  for the moment, I was not. She jabbed at my stomach, exciting the crows even more. She hammered at my knees, and drilled into my skull, sending her coarse little message deeper into my mind. With nothing else to take in, my brain ****** in each piece of the sentence, detailing the voice over and over in my head. With one last blunt blow in her apology for the pain she sent me, she walked away to float about in the emptiness that she gave me.
    Before this moment, I would look around and be reminded of everything she was and how she meant to me. I guess this was just in the second nature of my mind, and no pain ever came from thinking about her so thoroughly, until this moment.
    I have only felt two different ways of pain; The one universally obvious and real that you can revisit every part of a moment and break it down into colors and textures. We all feel this, and avoid the feeling the second time, or the third, until there is no life left, and you pass aways of natural causes or not so unnatural. That is where the second one comes in. This feeling has no explanation or details. My theory is that of suicide. When someone dies when they should not have, there is an emptiness in everyone they met and will meet. That means there are thousands of people who’s lives you needed to change, but you didn't, because you were to busy dead. I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit down lately, for the obvious reasons. I didn't mean to take it out on you.
    Chapter 2

    Are you hungry? I’m a bit hungry, I’ve had almost nothing to eat for a while now. I guess that is what happens to you when you don’t eat for a couple of days. I am not in the mood for anything stuffing. That’s the problem with food around here. We have-how may “non-greasy” choices do we have around here?. I want some ****** sushi. It just doesn't stuff you like other foods. Are you hungry? Oh, well of of course you aren’t, you’re a-, well I guess I shouldn’t assume. Are you hungry? Fine, story it is.
   The first day after the moment seemed to drag on for weeks. I would look around and see the dark blue of the lockers around me pierce the fog that seemed to follow me. It was not a cloud to rain down and symbolize my sorrows, or mist to precede the looming monster that lurks in these swamps. This was a dense fog with the only intention to consume me. People would quickly walk past in fear of this fog, and simply pass a glimpse on the

Angel, angel what have I done?
I’ve faced the quakes the wind, the fire
I’ve conquered country, crown, and throne
Why can’t I cross this river?

This river is no river but a wall
with your mind in control
You, with no sympathy shall not stand tall
so look deep in your soul
and find all your wrong
…and this wall shall fall to your song.