Dark Coffee

In Another Lifetime

In a copper extended cab ford F-150 with a mismatch white camper on the back. A mattress lay on the bed of the truck with blankets luggage of clothes to last a month from each family member, along with other necessities. The father manned the vehicle the man of the house hold. With his wife by his side to help guide him with an Atlas map through the United States. They return to the land where they were born into a small bowl-shaped like mountain town. They told their children no Christmas gifts this year instead they gifted their children with a holiday family road trip. With only five days left to Christmas they would arrive in two and a half days assuming there would be no delays or hassled at the border. And they could even arrive to their destination in a day and a half although the father didn’t like to drive at night.

The two youngest children were sitting in the back seat the boy Angel was 10 and the girl Luz was 13. And with the luggage on the bed of the truck under the camper were the two oldest boys Leonardo 19 and the other Cruz 15. They had left their home in Idaho at 9am and reached Salt Lake City around 1pm. The children were already becoming restless with only two and a half hours into the trip. The family stopped at a grocery store off the high way to refuel stretch and to grab a bite to eat. The family was like a pack of wolves on the travel and whenever the moment would arise the two oldest boys would break from the pack to wonder on their own. Leonardo and Cruz had a strong bond like two metal plates perfectly welded together. One would always lookout after the other when it was sneaking out and taking out their father’s truck for a joy ride or even breaking into homes together. Leonardo and Cruz were the first to jump out of the camper and walk into the grocery store not even waiting for the rest of their family to get out of the truck.

“Don’t go too far, we’ll be right in”. Holler out their mother as the boys ignored her. As little Angel made it out of the truck he saw that his two brothers were heading into the store. Angel was the outcast of the family he always wanted to belong but was either too young, wouldn’t comprehend or just didn’t fit in. It was the same for him in school he was always quiet, shy, and very much timed. It was to the point where teachers just thought he didn’t understand or speak English. He didn’t grasp to learning like the rest of his peers he just needed a little more of a push and attention in his studies. Though his teachers did give him that it was just chalked up to “he needs to be into an ESL class” (English as a Second Language). While he sat in ESL class all the rest of the kids would give him a confused stare. “Why you here, you speak English” asked one of his classmates “teacher why he here he speak English better than me “. The teacher glanced at the boy and then at Angel and couldn’t distinguish the difference between the two boys since to her they were both Mexican and didn’t understand English. Little did they know he was born in the U.S. and struggled with speaking Spanish. He was confused from speaking and hearing Spanish from his parents, aunts and uncles, to speaking English in school and to his siblings. Angel ran to catch up with his brothers he wanted to tag along as his sister Luz stayed with her parents.

“Angel, come back here” shouted his mother as Angel also ignoring his mom.

“Leonardo! Look after your little brother, he’s going with you”. Leonardo turns his back, finally acknowledging his mother.

The three of them made it into the grocery store it was a busy day swarming with customers. They walk around as they try to stay under the radar. A bit annoyed that Angel tagged along.

“Go back with mom and dad” said Cruz.

“I don’t know where they are, I don’t want to get lost” replied angel.

“I don’t know why you had to come with us you little faggot” said Cruz in an annoyed and angry tone as he punches Angel on his arm with his big boney knuckles.

“Ow, that hurt” said Angel in a shaky voice as he rubs his arm and his eyes begin to tear up.

“Stop being a fucking pussy already I barely touched you faggot” Said Cruz.

“Just leave him already man” Stated Leonardo.

Cruz then pinched the skin on the back of angel’s neck as they walked around the store. If angel made so much as a peep or even try to cut loose from Cruzes clinch, Cruz would then pinch him harder causing Angle to shrug his shoulders. It was a game they would play in public at Angles expense of pain and humiliation. Cruz was an insecure, angry, jealous teenager if he didn’t get his way he would make others around him suffer especially the smaller and weaker ones. He was also great at manipulating his parents for his aggressive behavior by playing the victim or feeling sorry for himself.

“If you’re going to be with us this is how it’s going to be then” Said Cruz. “If you keep shrugging your shoulders the more it’s going to hurt for you”.

Cruz would loosen his grip from the back of Angeles neck when Angel would relax his shoulders for the moment. But as they went walking around the store looking for the snacks aisle Cruz would pinch Angles neck even when he was relaxed for his own pleasure. Angel had enough of the pain as he was practically in tears and managed to break loose.

“Quit pinching me you fucking ass hole” Shouted Angel as he was rubbing the back of his neck. Cruz was embarrassed and his face turned flush as the other shoppers glanced over at the commotion.

“Shut up Angie you better get over here” Cruz said talking through his teeth in a low and angry voice.

“No! I fucking hate you”

“I’m going to fuck you up Angle you just wait you little faggot”

“Angie, get over here” Said Leonardo in his deep voice.

Angle gave Cruz the middle finger before he left to go looking for his parents in which made Cruz even more upset. Just before he could go wonder off he ran into his parents.

“There you are we need to get going where are your brothers? What’s wrong?” asked his mother as she was busy fumbling items into a grocery cart. Just before he was going to explain the mishap his brothers appeared right behind him.

“What’s wrong with Angle why is he crying?” asked his mother.

“I don’t know he’s always crying he’s worse than a girl.” Said Cruz

They were on the road for six hours they had just made it out of a small corner of Colorado passing through rule towns of Dolores and Cortez. They were entering the Navajo reservation of Ship rock in New Mexico. The town was living up to its name with its skyscraper like rock formation that can be seen miles away in every direction. They were coming up to the town of Gallup where they stopped at a Speedway gas station to refill and use the restrooms. Angle rushed himself to the restroom as he was in much need of the toilet. As he entered the large restroom he noticed it was empty and prefers it that way. As he walked passed the multiple stalls he looked under to see if any were occupied and reached the final stall. He picked the last one in hopes of no one picking the stall right next to him also the final stall was clean with no unflushed excrement. He then gets comfortable on the toilet seat as he discharges his waste that had been built up since they were in Dolores, Colorado. He hears someone else entering the bathroom. Angle listens to the footsteps as they get closer to the stall he’s in. He really hoped it wasn’t Cruz lord help him it could be anyone else even a pervert that likes to travel from gas station to gas station and watch little boys go to the bathroom he thought to himself. There was knocking on the stall door.

Angie, is that you in there?

Hearing Cruz’s voice made his stomach turn, or perhaps, it was the beef and bean microwave burrito he ate back in Dolores that was causing him such abdominal stress.

Yeah it’s me. Angle answered

“Mom and dad are getting ready to leave everyone is already in the truck”. Cruz stated as he tried to open the stall.

“No don’t come in, I’ll be right out” Angle became worried the thought of being left behind in a gas station made him feel anxious. How would he contact his parents once they left? They didn’t have a cell phone and he was miles away from home. No one in their right mind would travel over three states to give him a lift back home. At what point would his parents realize that he had been missing? The thought of him being forgotten made himself feel down.

“Tell them not to leave I’m almost done”. Angle shouted in panic.

“Alright I’ll tell them to wait.” Replied Cruz as he walked out of the restroom.

Angle had a lot more waste in him than he anticipated and was trying to hurry in passing it through. Angle then heard someone burst through the bathroom door with such exaggeration.

Cruz cries out as he bangs on the stall door with a closed fist. “Angie! Hurry! Mom and dad are leaving hurry!”

Angle then panics that he jumps off the toilet to pull his pants off and forgets to clean himself off. He opens the stall door as his lovely brother pulls him by his shirt from the shoulder.

“Hurry there almost on the road we can still catch up to them, it’s your fault for taking too long.” As Cruz explains to Angle on their way out of the restroom, Angles mind is racing and confused. Cruz then takes Angle to where his dad is in line to pay for the gas.

“Look, he’s right here I found him.” Cruz had said to his dad as he walked off when his father gave them both a confused stare.

“Go to the truck, what are you doing? We have to hit the road; we don’t have time to play your games.” Angles father replied in an aggressive tone as he was becoming on edge from driving all day as he knew he had a much longer road ahead of him. As the family situated themselves in the vehicle they commenced with their travel. However that left Angle unfixed from being rushed out of the restroom with the panic of being left behind. He could start to smell himself sitting in his own filth. He was embarrassed for multiple reasons for one that he was so gullible to believe that his parents would actually leave him and his brother behind in a gas station. And the second reason that he fell for his brothers own mischievous act and should have known better that he was up to something since he had cursed at him in Salt Lake City. The smell was lingering on in the vehicle what also didn’t help was the heater was on and this time there was a total of 6 people in the front since it was starting to get too cold to sit in the back of the camper. He held off for as long as he could.

“What’s that smell?” His mother asked.

“Someone either stepped into it or didn’t clean themselves well enough” stated angles father.

“It’s Angle” Said Cruz as he was sniffing around like a drug dog that pinpointed the stash.

Everyone had their nose covered and was airing out the smell with the windows down.

“It was Cruz’s fault he told me you were leaving us at the gas station while I was using the restroom” as Angle tries to explain his self he breaks down and begins to sob.

“I don’t know why he’s blaming me it’s not my fault he doesn’t shower” Said Cruz.

The family then decided to pull over to the next hotel where they could freshen up and rest to get them through the next day. The following day the family made it into West Texas where it was a downward slope into the southwest part of the state. The destination was Eagle Pass in which it borderers the city of Piedras Negras, Coahuila Mexico. Coming up to the border would always make the father nervous it wasn’t like he was smuggling fire arms or drugs into Mexico. He would be returning to his home land by his choice and not by brute force. The father had been deported at least once in his life before he ever received citizenship in the U.S. However at times he would play negative scenarios in his head where if the border patrol had arrested him and not let him continue on the trip with his family. Or perhaps they wouldn’t allow him to return to the U.S. In which it would make him nervous and to avoid showing fear he would let out his anger on his family rather than showing a sign of weakness. He had his fair share of daemons he truly was his own enemy.

The family had crossed over the bridge into Mexico without any hassle. They still had another 13 hours from the border to their destination. The vibe was completely different compared to the states it gave a feeling like anything goes in this desert like land. The fellow drivers were reckless like if there were no laws to abide by. The traffic lights and stop signs were there only for show since no one paid much attention to them. There had been at least 3 instances where they almost wrecked. Highway 57 was what they needed to stay on to reach the city of Monclova. As they continue on rain drops began to sprinkle down on the windshield, which it was a bit of surprise since normally December and January are dry months down here. However, the rains from October and November can carry on over to December. But the rains came down like waterfall almost as if they were in the tale of Noah’s Ark. Monclova was coming over the horizon like the sun was rising. Only it was night time again and pouring rain. The lights from the city were substituting for the rise of the sun. About 20 minutes away they encounter a truck that looks similar to theirs parked on the side of the road. There were also police vehicles with their sirens surrounding the truck with their headlights and flashlights. It had put traffic to a halt with police officers and even military men were investigating the area. The door to the driver side was open and looked like a situation where force was used. It was a bit difficult to see due to the rain however the family noticed that the truck was sprayed with bullets from an automatic weapon. Bullet holes on the side of the truck and the door the tiers were flat due to the puncture from the bullets. There was glass on the road from the windowsills mixed with bullet shells. There were several bodies on the ground lined up by the police. They had covered the bodies with a blue tarp at the end of the line up a small arm was left uncovered. The palm of its hand was facing upward though it looked like the body lay on its stomach judging by how the forearm was facing upward. Witnessing such massacre left the family in dead shocking silence. The flow of traffic continued on. Angle had felt fear before from being bullied or having to speak in front of a class at show and tell. But this was a different kind of fear that affected him greatly like his soul had left his body and was left lifeless. He grew tired as he rested his head on the window.

On this desert like highway rain trickled down to water the land like if it were the neglected part of the lawn where the sprinklers could barely reach. The copper like truck travels down highway 57 only a few more miles away to reach a major metropolitan city. Speeding quickly behind the copper truck is a white two door truck with black rails on the bed of the truck. The white truck begins tailgate behind the copper vehicle for a mile and a half before it turns on the police siren lights, pulling the copper vehicle over. The driver from the white truck steps out and walks to the driver side dressed in a police uniform. He approaches the driver side window and discovers a family of six.

“Where we heading tonight” asked the Police officer as he shines his flashlight in the truck to witness the family.

“To Monclova, we are looking for a place to stay for the night” responded the driver of the copper vehicle. The driver noticed something was a bit off from the police officer he looked off balance with a glossy eyed look. But he couldn’t tell for sure since the officer shined the light right in his eyes, until he was hit in the face with an odor of alcohol. At that point the father of the family realized something wasn’t right.

“Step out of the vehicle” ordered the police officer

“I’m sorry?”

“I said step out of the vehicle” the officer responded in an aggressive tone.

“You haven’t even given me a reason as to why you pulled me over” replied the father.

“Either you step out on your own or we will force you out” stated the officer as he put his hand on his pistol at his waste.

The father thought to himself he felt put on the spot by his family as they wondered what was his next move. He’d better compile even though his anger was slowly getting the best of him. He steps out the vehicle as the officer directs him to the front of his white truck.

“Have you been drinking sir?” asked the police officer.

“No, I’m traveling with my family we’re from up north”

“I can see that with this nice of a truck and those license plates. So this is what’s going to happen we are going to take your truck in for inspection in case of any contraband. And if everything goes smoothly you might get your truck back in one to two weeks.”

“This is fucking bullshit you can’t do this! What about me and my family?” The father had responded in an angry threatening tone. The officer didn’t take too kindly to that response one bit and grabbed the father by his collar and slammed him up against the back of the father’s truck. The father then became in rage and swung on the police officer hitting him with a right hook on his cheek bone making the officer stumble back up against the hood of his white truck. The officer was dazed due to the blow and the booze before the encounter. He attempted to reach for his pistol but the father was getting the best of him. The oldest boy steps out of the vehicle to try and defuse the situation. The partner of the officer steps out of the police truck from the passenger side with a sub-machine gun. The son pulls his father of the first police officer trying to ease the situation. As the second officer with the sub machine-gun sees an opportunity he opens fire on the son and father. Both of their bodies collapse on the roadside. The officer steps over their bodies and watches them as they bled and were still alive with the father on his back and the son on his side clutching his stomach. The officer then turns his attention to the rest of the family in the copper truck. The officer heard screaming of horror from the family after they witnessed two of their love ones were shot down. He locked eyes with the youngest boy of the family as he saw tears were running down both his eyes screaming as he was possessed with fear. The officer paused as he was taking in the moment giving the family an angry stare with a hint of pity behind it. He grew tiresome of this depressing scene as he unloaded the reaming rounds in a side to side spraying motion. After the entire clip from the sub machine gun was empty he walked back to the truck stepping over windshield glass, empty, bullet shells and blood. As for the father and son lying on the side of the road, the drunken police officer pulled out his pistol to make sure their lives were extinguished with one bullet each to the head.

Angel awakes startled from a disturbing nightmare. It was still night time with complete silence from everyone in the truck. He had no idea where they were he noticed the endless amount of tress from both sides and the curvy road. Looking ahead he could only see the darkness with the road from the help of the headlights to guide the way. Driving with what felt like an endless road into the night. When was the last time they refueled, ate or even stopped to use the restroom? It was irrelevant, time was irrelevant. As they being to slow down they make a right off the main road into a much slimmer road on a downward slope. Angle notices white figurines passing through the tress as if they were simply strolling along. Driving a mile downward they finally reach the town the streets were bear but light up. No dances or any fun festivities. Not even single concessions stand selling food. Just the town with street lights on as they passed through the neighboring homes. A loud gong goes off in the distance the family confused, and then realized it was the church bells going off to accompany them on their travel. This town gave the parents a warm feeling of home, harmony and togetherness. As for the children they knew this place, it gave them an anxious feeling of butterflies in their stomachs. They had been here before it was all familiar to them like a close relative they hadn’t seen in years. It felt like home and deep down they knew they had comfortably roamed these streets in another lifetime.

MUDGETT

It was one of the hottest days of the summer mid-July. Living in an hour glass with sand signifying time flowing through my fingers, on the lower side of the bulb with barley any sand at my feet, today I have time. I would spend my long summer days in the shade hidden; I’d prefer to be alone in my moments of malicious acts. Staking out in the tall green weeds was where I’d go on a trolling spree. Minutes would go by and not a single sign of any living organism not even the sound of a crickets tune. My legs would then start to go numb from crouching down for a long period of time until I sat down. I pull out the short stubby 30 ML syringe out of my pocket such an uncomfortable feeling. I inspect the needle making sure it wasn’t bent from me crouching down. The needle remains straight as the 6 inch steel stiletto I had in my other pocket thanks to the plastic cap the syringe didn’t leak out the concoction I mixed.

Due to this siesta I grow board and start to pick at my scab on my right arm with the stiletto. A previous victim that got away left her three clawing marks above my elbow. She was quick and noticed early on something wasn’t right, though I wanted her nice soft black beautiful hair she was too advanced for me. I continue to pick at the corner of my scab and start to peel off the dead skin like poor old quality paint crackled from a rundown home. I wasn’t quite skilled enough yet though I felt ready enough to fry bigger fish. However staying with in my lane was the more cleaver move for the moment, but not for much longer I hoped.

I hear something before me, rummaging through the dusty weeds without making too much of a ruckus I get back up on my feet. My eyes widen while my heart begins to beat rapidly with the feeling of butterflies in my stomach due to the excitement. This one was a tan fellow however he looked strong and much bigger than my usual victims. A little intimidated I must admit but I must daze him before I commence to capture him. I was able to daze him with a blow and quickly puncture his hard stomach with my stiletto. His energy slowly begins to decrease from the impact of the stiletto as I pull him into my site. He had much more fight in him then I thought swinging away with his arms and kicking from his strong thick thigh legs. This one would have been another one that got away although I knew he wouldn’t have made it very far to tell this story due to his wound. Holding the victim not letting him cut loose from my strong grasp I quickly reach for the syringe with my free hand. I pull off the cap from the syringe with my teeth and inject him with the mixture of gasoline, Drano fluid and old motor oil. Curious to see how he would react from the mixed concoction I created in my fathers shed. However the only reaction I received was he started spitting out this dark brown substance from his mouth. It had a strong disgusting smell of tobacco. He must have been a smoker or perhaps even a chewer with that filth still in his mouth. He no longer seems to be moving or breathing for that matter but I continue on.

I leave from where the previous victim laid. As I do so I’m lucky enough to encounter another victim, my thirst for blood is far from coming to an end. Almost that of a drug addict or an alcoholic once I start its uneasy for me to stop. Not having a clue what an addictive behavior looks like. This one looks almost identical to the previous victim with the similar tan color must have been its companion. However I had no struggles with capturing it, no need to go into the trouble with temporarily paralyzing it. This really must have been my lucky day. From the body frame this one was smaller but seemed much bigger from the stomach compared to its companion. With my stiletto up against its throat I realized she was pregnant that explained the reason why she was so easy to capture. She began to spit at me just like her companion with the same unpleasant smell of tobacco. Perhaps that was her only way of defending herself.

“Mudgett”!

I hear a cry from a distance.

“Mudgett”!

Someone was calling me. I remove the one inch sewing pin from the pregnant grasshopper’s throat and turn to see who was calling me. And there she stood the beautiful black haired feline that left me with my infected wound. Her yellow eyes filled with bravery and aggressiveness ready to attack at any moment with her predatory posture. She began to growl, I attempted to take a step forward and she responded with a loud hiss. Her eyes Widen and began a very threatening, howling sound. I still had the pregnant grasshopper in my hand. I placed her back on one of the branches from the weeds.

“Mudgett, where are you”!?

My mother was calling me interrupting my moment of curiosity in torture. I quickly toss the needle in the weeds. As my mother’s mood could rapidly change if she saw me with her sewing needles. As I began to walk away feeling uneasy her eyes follow my every move as if she can see right through me noticing my evil intentions with the helpless insects. She was burning into my soul with her bright yellow raging eyes. Somehow I knew this wouldn’t be our last encounter.

I see your future

I see your future, asking for directions in an unknown town and taking advice from strangers who have no sense of direction.

I see your future, sitting in a waiting room while you grow tired of patients with your leg fidgeting waiting for the perfect moment, in which it passed years ago.

I see your future, looking through old photos hoping to recreate moments wishing things were done differently.

I see your future, dwelling on the past, hauling around bad memories as if it were your precious treasure chest.

I see your future, as in the future is now, worrisome about a tragedy that has yet to take place.

To keep from living day by day we create our own darkroom and continue to be blind in search of the switch in our past and future. Yet we fail to see our own light within.

Before & After 09/12/2016

The material things you gain in life are not the only things you lose when imprisoned with mind-altering chemicals. I use to think to gain material things was a sign of growth and accomplishment. Such as buying a car a new house, furniture, things that you actually don’t own. During the times that I was in a losing battle with my addiction to alcohol. I would justify my problematic use by telling myself as long as I had a paying job and bills were paid it didn’t matter to me that I was drinking daily. My future wasn’t looking too bright with letting the alcohol have full control.

Before Recovery

Before the inevitable happen where my life was heading to become institutionalized, I allowed my life to become controlled by alcohol. So bad to the point from where ever I awoke to where ever I lost consciousness, I would have a drink in my hand. However, I lost a whole lot more than my consciousness. My self-respect, my family’s trust, the loss of relationships, all my values including my health were all being pissed down the toilet along with the booze. All I knew was to drink. I learned how to make it last and how to buy the cheapest kind of beer that had the most alcohol. I felt very limited in my days like I was pulling around 50-pound weights chained to my skin. My legs and arms always felt heavy, my body felt fatigued, felt like I could feel the swelling of my liver when I would tie my shoes. To me, everyone else had the problem, always playing the victim and never holding myself accountable for my own actions. I wasn’t at peace with myself I really disliked the person that I became. I had no control of my situation if anything I was asleep at the wheel and left it on cruise control and hoped for the best. Until I wrecked my vehicle all the way into rock bottom and gained consciousness in the drunk tank.

After Recovery

When the dust cleared I had time to sit and think. I like to think of the law as a giant hand that picks you up by the back of your shirt, then places you in a corner putting you in time out. After the time out, I gained 30 days of sobriety. I was able to see and think more clear and sharper than I’ve ever felt recently, growing my ambition back. I felt a sense of accomplishment even with only one month of sobriety. I was getting back to my old self again. Along with the sobriety, the little things started to follow. Paying my bills on time, cleaning up after myself not neglecting my choirs or responsibilities. Also going to the gym daily sometimes twice a day. I was even putting more effort into my job. One of the more important things I’ve gained back was my family’s trust again. That was a warm feeling in my heart that I haven’t felt in years. I continued on with my sobriety, however, I’m not a perfect person. Like anyone else battling with an addiction, I have triggers and cravings. I attend an outpatient program as well as AA meetings. I enjoyed hearing others talk about their battle with addiction and relapse. I gain knowledge from those amazing, stories on how to cope with triggers. As well as doing a full inventory on myself and analyzing the people that I associated with while I was partaking in the devil’s nectar. Today I like being open with my sobriety not only for my benefit but in hopes of helping others that are ready to make a change in their life. After I reached my 3rd year of sobriety I often got asked: “you should be ok to drink now right?” “At least one or two” “It’s all in your head you just need to learn to control it” Well as the saying goes “one is too much and a thousand is never enough.” But if you could run a marathon in my shoes or perhaps even walk a mile in them you would have a better understanding.

Parking Lot Diaries

Not in the mood for listening to music I turn off the car radio. Sitting in this silver Pontiac, this parking lot gives a home to this abandon run-down building. Years before this building had life and business was booming at one time or another. At this time the Halloween decorations would have been replaced by Thanksgiving ornaments. What a department store this was in the 90s. A real nationwide retailer of clothing, electronics, toys and so on. But in the 2000s sales declined all the way down to the bottom of the ocean and couldn’t stay above drowning from bankruptcy. The time on the radio read 5:45 PM but it felt like 2 AM. Past daylight, savings time my least favorite time of year. I pull the gun out from my all black Xersion jacket. 38. Special snub-nosed nickel-plated. I point the short stubby barrel under my chin I cock back the hammer and pull the trigger. Would the bullet exit out from the top of my head and penetrate through the ceiling of my car? Possibly let’s go backward instead of under my chin at the roof of my mouth. Would be left looking like a PEZ dispenser, a real dismemberment I’d hate to be the crime scene cleanup crew. Cock my thumb back. I look like such a moron with my two fingers in my mouth good thing no one is around to see me in my moment of foolishness.

The sound of the heat flowing through the vents of the car can’t provide me the sound to create a rhythm in my head. It had to be 80 degrees inside and about 30 degrees outside. As I turn off the heater I lock with my own eyes through the rearview mirror. Those dark eyes my greatest enemy they drift off to the right staring out the back seat window. As if they were contemplating life. “Imagination still running wild I see,” said the eyes. “You still having those conversations with yourself?” “When you were 6 it was cute having an imaginary friend now as an adult you come across as delusional.” The dark eyes lock again piercing through my soul. I know those eyes very well they no longer carry on the childish confused look. That twinkle it once had no longer shines brightly. The shadows of negativity, anger, and guilt overclouded the dying light. “Your boy is back here Charles, the same way you remembered him.” He would call me Charles, he knew it would upset me, was nothing close to my actual name. “Hey stop.” In a scared whining child’s voice, creeping up from the back seat. I refrain from turning my head back.”Just let me do it, it’s ok I’ll take it from here. I’ll end it all right now we can move forward.” The eyes trying to convince my mind. I look away from the rearview mirror, staring at the steering wheel. I hear the child’s voice whimper. The whimpering stopped until I heard the grunt of a man. Like he was using all his force and strength to end the child from existence. I then bow my head with my eyes closed. Thinking to myself we were only kids. There was nothing I could do I couldn’t save him. “You’re such a coward, you knew you could have done a lot more than just stand there and watch him being taken”.I start to grind my teeth, my eyes open wide I let out an angry scream full of energy, shame, and guilt behind it. I start to punch the steering wheel with both of my fists. The Horn going off with each punch landing in the center. In a rage, I grab the wheel with both my hands and start to yank on it. As if I had the strength to completely pull the wheel off with my hands. The intrusive, thoughts let out a chuckle. “That’s how I love it, you fucking deranged animal!” “Check the time Charles you don’t want to be late, their waiting on you.”The time on the radio showed 5 minutes to 6:00 pm. I get out of the car and start walking towards the side of the building. I’m not going in alone the shadows that drag me down and overloud my mind follow along. They call me Charles.

Good+Bad = Luggage

As we all know life has its ups and downs it’s a conundrum. Sometimes you’re up and your relationship with your loved ones is going well. Money is flowing through, bills are caught up, food is in the fridge. Your health is at its peak as well as the people in your life, you feel like your closer to God than ever. But in the down times when you get a demotion from work or even laid off. When your relationships are on rocky terms to the point where you can’t even stand the side of each other. Those are the moments where you ask the bad times “why me?”

You may have a passion for something that wakes you up and makes you feel alive. Relives stress puts your mind into a different State. A real challenge out of this repetitive world. In times you may taste defeat, despair, depression, and so on. We then go into this contemplative mode, we lose touch with our reality and let our minds engulf us to overthink all the way into that rough neighborhood of negativity.

The Luggage

It couldn’t have been more clear to me then the time I received one of those overly large awkward carrying traveling suitcases from the 80s. The same ugly soft leather brown luggage my parents used when we would travel to Mexico. I would have to sit and zip up the luggage with that deadly sharp chain zipper. You would have to be careful not to catch your fingers on the sharp teeth. Otherwise, you could almost lose a finger. (overreacting)

The Bad

Going through this luggage I found photos of me and my family. Our medical records old bills that we would stress out on. Envelops of mine and my sibling’s teeth from our childhood, an old toy horse with the saddle that I used to play with. Until I reached my mug shots and criminal records. I started wondering what kind of sick person would play a cruel game like this. All of my immediate families’ criminal records were in there all the way down to my father. Anger starts to set in then I reach photos of times when loved ones passed away. Photos at funerals, people both crying and angry drinking themselves to their death bed. My body felt weak and my mind felt distorted.

The Good

Ready to get rid of the luggage and burn it all to hell. Until I found more photos, everyone smiling at get-togethers’ birthday parties, baptisms. People enjoying each other’s company. Photos of the entire family together. The birth of all my nieces and nephews, certificates of accomplishments, graduation pictures, diplomas. When bad times occurred we were there to help each other back up. My heart feels warm tears of joy roll down to the great big smile I presented. Felt like I had the strength to do anything in this world. And then I woke up.

The Realization

Life can be many things it all really depends on how you perceive it. When the going gets tough you can sit there pouting and ask yourself, the “why me?” Question. Yes, you can play the victim and continue to have a negative outlook on life to the point where you’re living in the past and making drastic decisions based on anger. Or perhaps slow down and reevaluate yourself. Bad times are inevitable but they are also only temporary. Good times are moments to cherish and focus on. To move forward, with life and to create new beautiful moments.

Lifeless part 2

A strong grip on my collar with a left hand repeatedly slapping me in the face with the right hand. The strength of a grown man is no match for a 10-year-old. But he won’t let me go the slaps turn into hitting with a closed fist to my head. I lived this experience before. This memory of humiliation and betrayal in the streets of the town where my family is from. My brother yelling in my face, drunk as a skunk. I turned loose from his grip, and start backing off from him. “Get the fuck over here, if you run I’m going to chase you down and choke you until you turn purple.”Said, my brother. Why was I living this again in the same place, at the same time? The feeling of betrayal, I noticed the imprint of red lips on his neck. I turned my back and began to run. I hear yelling “get over here! I’m gonna fucking kill you when I see you!” “I’m gonna kill you!”Running through the streets the sun is coming down, the warm climate, running past the trees and the colorful, adobe buildings. The yelling fading away in the distance. The sound of my feet hitting the road starts to sound like a squeaky sound. Like I’m running in a supermarket echoing in a building. I’m no longer in the streets, the floor is a shiny white I’m back in the empty half of the store. I look back and it’s not my sibling anymore but the mannequins that mob out the building. I hear a familiar voice calling my name I look forward and it’s my mother at the end of the aisle. Relieved I run to her and I wrap my arms around her leg. Hugging her I felt safe, at ease with my cheek pressed up against her leg. Until I realized how stiff her leg felt and it wasn’t her. I look up and its nothing more than another lifeless mannequin.

My heart sank into my stomach like the feeling of loneliness and heartbreak. My eyes filled with tears begin to roll down my eyes. I begin to hear a high pitch maniacal laughter. It’s her again, making her appearance before I was gripped by the collar from a terrifying memory. Only now she was about 6 feet away from me. She was pale white about 5’1 not much taller than me. Had pitch-black hair, with big dark gaping eyes. Streams of blood were flowing from her cold eyes as if someone were pushing her eyeballs inward with their thumbs. She had a photogenic smile that showed all her teeth with bright red lipstick around her lips. A large kitchen knife in her hand gripped tight Blood dripping from her hands. Before I could begin to run away she lunges at me swinging the kitchen knife. I put my hands up trying to protect my face. A bloody thick gash appears on the inside of my wrist. In a great world of instant pain, I grip my wrist with my left-hand Blood streaming down my right arm and gushing through my fingers from my left hand. That bitch stabbed me full of fear I begin to make a run for it. I can feel my heart pumping really fast and the feeling of worrisome trying to find the exit out of this gruesome funhouse of horrid memories. Running drops of blood Dripping on the clean white supermarket floor oozing through my fingers holding my arm to try and slow the blood. It’s all over me running through the aisle past the mannequins. I hear whispers chatter like gossip in the break room. Sounds like it’s coming from the lifeless shoppers. I slip on a drop of my own blood and stumble on top of one of the two figures standing there. knocking one over in front of the second mannequin stood alone. My head landing on its crotch face down. I pull my head up and look ahead as I do so the mannequin that I lay on staring right into my eyes. it’s a woman with light green eyes and long brown hair. I don’t recognize her. “you want me to suck your dick now baby?” She asked in a soft-spoken woman voice. I get up and try to continue running away. As I do so she grips my pant leg. I look back trying to break free I lock eyes with her remembering she had such a glamorous look to her with her honey-glazed skin. When she opened her mouth the sound of radio tuning came from her mouth. Like static and audio frequency continuing until it reaches a station. In the deep voice of a man.she asks “My dear boy was this not something you expected to see?”She begins to blink her eyes, frequently until her eyes began to widen much larger and turn black. Her skin no longer giving off that honey-glazed glow. Her skin pale white like plain unseasoned boiled chicken streaks of veins populating on her temple and forehead. “Yeah, your just the same as always and you’ll never change.” She continued in a deep voice. The second mannequin that stood alone begins to walk towards her. It begins to kick her on her side and stomp on her stomach she then releases my pant leg. The figure gets on top of her with its legs holding down her arms sitting on her chest. And presses its thumbs against her wide eyes. She screams in a high pitch women voice the sound of pain and torture. Shes slapping and trying to get the figure off of her. The mannequin facing down at her then pulls it’s head up at me as if it had eyes to stare me down as I watched it dig its plastic thumbs in her eyes, I noticed the mark of lips from a bright red lipstick on its neck.

I’ve heard this before on a rainy October night. We were in her bedroom listening to a clear radio station. “so, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell?” the lyrics playing from the radio. She was trying to get me to stay when all I wanted to do was leave. We went on to argue about our past like we had some sort of way of changing it. Her dark eyes and short black hair had a way of manipulation but not this time. She behaved carelessly as if she had been drinking trying to get me to relax in a sexual manner. She was a scratcher during the moments of ecstasy. She would dig her sharp well-maintained fingernails on my back and dragged them down to the point where skin and sometimes blood collected under her fingernails. It had been at least over a month since she did so. And about 2 weeks she missed her period. We had been on rocky terms. I could smell the alcohol on her breath trying to cover the odor with cinnamon, gum. When you’ve been a prisoner to alcohol before you can smell the bartender across town pouring it into a glass. She gets me on her bed and gets on top of me kissing me on my neck. She runs her hand slowly on the left side of my face. I noticed something from her fingernails. They were somewhat maintained with clear nail polish. But what had me struck was the collection of someone else’s skin under her nails. I grabbed her hand and take a closer look. As I do so she pulls her hand away from me. I push her aside and get up from the bed. “what’s wrong?” In a guilty voice, she asked. “you must think I’m stupid or something? You know what I’m done.” I replied back. I start to head for the door as I do so static on the radio picks up and plays over the music. In an aggressive tone, she asks “so your just going to fucking leave? Yeah, you’re just the same old you thinking you changed and acting like your better than everyone else?” I get to the door with my hand on the door nob. I glance back at her laying on her bed thinking life felt easier being alone. I never had a way with women falling from one toxic relationship to another. But it’s not like I was always innocent. I’ve had my fair share of disloyalty. It didn’t help that my trust for people had been shattered over and over. And maybe even before when I was a kid always given false promises and being betrayed and humiliated by my loved ones my confidence, as well as my trust for people, had been demolished since.

At the edge of my seat with my hands clasped together, explaining to blor. Blor sitting there with a concerned look with his right arm over his stomach holding up his left arm by the elbow and his left hand in an L shape against his head. “So what did you do when you got to the door”? Asked blor. I try to think back and can’t seem to recollect as to what I did afterward. I began to think hard on it and bits of memories start to flashback into my mind, my face is getting slapped and my lower lip is being pulled on. My hands are around her neck I’m on top of her and I’m pushing down with full force. I can see her face red trying to gasp for air until she couldn’t anymore. My hands are making their way to her eyes my thumbs are over her eyes. I start to feel lightheadedness and shortness of breath my vision becomes distorted. Blor sees I’m having a hard time breathing and gets up from his chair and has me sit back on his recliner. Blor grabs my right hand and places it on my belly. “Inhale through your nose and exhale throughout your mouth close your eyes concentrate how the air is flowing out your body.” “We are going to count down from ten,” Blor instructing. Blor started with “ten, nine come on start to count down as well.” “Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two.” finally getting to one with my eyes still closed. I hear nothing but the loud quartz clock. I open my eyes the first thing I see is the ceiling laying back on the recliner. At ease, I start to chuckle. “Thanks, blor you really are quite the doctor”. I hear no response. I adjust the recliner to sit upwards. I look forward, the clock read 2:45 am and I see a figure in the seat where Blor was sitting. Its body was facing the left wall with its arm resting on its desk. I get up and walk towards the figure. Wearing its dark grey Kangol hat matching with its wool sweater. Staring off to the left wall I lift up its hat bald pale white lifeless mannequin. Confused as ever I look around my surroundings. What I saw next shocked me dropping it’s Kangol hat giving me goosebumps and chills down my spine. Bright red lips imprinted on its neck. I head for the door leaving the sound of the quartz clock in the office. Walking through the corridor passing the dim flickering lights. The exit leads me to the side of the building walking forward weeds grow through the cracks of the pavement, abandon and full of neglect associated with the building, I reach the parking lot light pole with the cement foundation. It just finished raining wet leaves on the grown being picked up by the late October wind. It’s pitch back outside. Thanks to the bright LED lights working on the 20-foot pole I could still see the faded giant K on the building. Cigarette butts and the marking of black ash remain on the cement foundation from my last visit. Acknowledging the building as I recall it didn’t seem so lifeless at a time when one had so much joy and curiosity before I was struck by cold-heartedness.

Lifeless part 1

Mother holding her son by hand and going forward, isolated vector silhouette

Forgot I came along to be bored out of my mind.
Mother would bring me along to these secondhand stores. Where I would then get lost and become bored to tears. Sometimes the florescent lighting was too much. It was bad enough the floor was a bright, shiny white. Everything was old and used even the music playing on the overhead. You would find some interesting things if you were lucky. At times it was too absorbing it was even scary. Walking further into the back of the store was an opening to what seemed like another store. “How big was this place?” Only this part looked abandoned, or even a new part added to the store. Shelves and shelves of nothing complete emptiness.

Walking further in I come across a family of mannequins. The mother, father, and child. The child was of my stature. More and more mannequins, what were they shopping for? They were used for their intended purpose. To look like everyday people going about their daily shopping. Except everyday people didn’t look chalky white with faceless expressions or perhaps they did. I realized I walked deeper into the store to where I could no longer see the entrance of the second part of the store. I hear something, I turn to look back all I see are the lifeless stiff mannequins in between the endless aisles of shelves. The sounds of fast-moving footsteps, Continues to get louder and louder. I remove myself from the aisle and try to head back. But so lost don’t know which way is up. As I enter another aisle I see only the Male mannequins with what looks like the imprint of lips from a bright red lipstick on the necks. I hear a high pitch scream I turn around and at the end of the aisle directly across from me is what looks like a womanly figure with dark hair.

The sound a clock makes from the gears moving simultaneously, piercing through the silence in the room, always seems to drag on the time. One minute felt like ten minutes. Or maybe just the fact I really dislike talking about my feelings with a stranger. The counselor looked around his mid-50s. He had black hair on the sides of his head, he was going for a younger look. He tried to hid his age by dying his hair. He was wearing a dark gray Kangol hat, perhaps to hide his baldness with his grey wool sweater to match. He was an older white man his thin white mustache didn’t help with shedding years off his age. He went by Dr. Blor although I don’t think he was a legitimate doctor. He didn’t have any degrees of any sort in his office or any type of identification as such. His office was bear there were no windows nor a single picture of his accomplishments or any of his interests. All he had was his desk and seat. And a recliner for his so-called patients. His loud round 10-inch quartz clock with bold black numbers hanging above, his desk was the only thing in his office that stood out, the time read 6:10 pm. There was that awkward silence he noticed my left hand rubbing the inside of my wrist where a scar presented itself on my right hand. “You always feel up on that scar when you get nervous?” Asked Blor. “No,” I snapped back “I know what your thinking, I did this to myself is that right?” Blor ignoring my response. “What do you remember on the night you were arrested?” “I was doing a little grocery shopping,” “At the old abandoned Kmart? Not a whole lot of shopping to do there, considering that building had shut down 5 years ago.” “I was looking for something,” “28 years old and getting charged for trespassing, must have been really worth it”. Said Blor, condescending as ever. “The police said you were acting aggressively towards them. When they tried to get you out of the building you were hyperventilating and trying to fight them off. Any recollection of such behavior?” “All I can recall was waking up in the holding cell”. I said. “You take any type of medication or on any type of drugs of some sort, or any other altering substance?” There was a long pause, It was more of an interrogation than of any counseling I’ve ever had. “So what happened to your wrist”? Asked Blor moving on from his interrogation. “It happened when I was a kid,” “Were you suffering through a breakup? Or were you abused as a child?”I don’t respond letting his quartz clock do the talking.”Look anything you say here stays within these four walls. And due to your mishap, this is court-ordered, you are required to engage in your treatment.” Blor stating with authority. “You call this treatment you fucking quack”.

Rhythm to Recovery

Recovery vs relapse choice concept road sign on blue background

What do you say, old friend
Pays me a visit.
Dancing along to the same tune I once moved to.
Try to bury the hatchet.
Vital fluid remains on the blade.
Would like to make a peace offering.
I can see that the blade still drips with anger.
Dancing along to a different drumbeat these days.
But I must keep moving.
Was still living in a wretched time
When his mother dreamed,
Lighting flames under what looks like a light bulb.
Children from the streets call it the glass dick
Pressed up against his lips.
In the living room with two men with the same face.
And the devil dancing along in the kitchen.

Is there anybody out there?

Wanting to pursue a writing career. Ideas are written down on paper from a Mont Blanc pen. That was awarded for my 5th-year-anniversary working in sales. So in 5 more years where would, that put me? Possibly getting another Mont Blanc pen maybe this time the ink is blue instead of black.

Sharing is carrying

So I’ve come to the realization that ideas are just thoughts stuck in your head when you don’t put them into action. My ideas on writing stories, short stories, poems or even life experiences I’d like to share with the world, expand my horizon. As well as grow and learn from other writers. And it doesn’t stop there my hunger for knowledge grows each day on a wide spectrum.

Afraid of losing, afraid of being humiliated

Rejection, failure are things to overcome and must I say get comfortable with. Need I say more? Fear’s a powerful thing. I mean it’s got a lot of firepower. If you can figure out a way to wrestle that fear to push you from behind rather than to stand in front of you, that’s very powerful. – Jimmy Lovine.

Drum roll, please…

So without further ado, here is the one and only Salvador Perez (crowd cheers). Alright, you get the point I do have a humorous side. But along with everything else I’m here for a challenge and to progress with my writing skills. Open to anyone giving positive feedback to my creative writing.