Stick

For most of us change and fear are inseparable; because we believe in punishing mistakes.

Power

Your mind decides over what matters to you.

Duality

In the extreme, everything represents its opposite.

Prayer

Every action is a request.

Incredible

MICHAEL was exhausted. His bones ached and his muscles were on fire. He tried not to think about the pain, maybe if he thought of something else, it would hurt less. He had to hold on to KATIE, no matter what.

He had been driving KATIE to school that morning, when a bee swung in through the window. KATIE was allergic to bee-stings, they were fatal for her. He reacted and the car swerved off the road, through the barrier and down the ravine. It happened within seconds.

He remembered wondering why everything was so slow, and his mind was so clear. His senses had heightened; they had to survive.

They needed to escape the car before it went off the cliff. He reached for her seat-belt and his at the same time. He remembered grabbing her and opening his door as he shouted, “Watch your legs!”. Soon, she was on his lap; the car hurtling towards the cliff. They would have to jump. He wondered how he could make sure that she would land on him. She was only six years old.

He jumped with her, his back to the ground, his arms and body cradling her on his chest. 

The pain ripped through him as they glided towards the cliff. He forced his eyes to stay open. He had to save KATIE.

The car disappeared down the cliff. They were seconds behind it.

He saw a root branch sticking out of the ground and reached for it. He remembered praying as he and KATIE went off the cliff.

They fell briefly and stopped abruptly. MICHAEL felt his shoulder dislocate with the jolt, the pain tore through him, but he held on to the root; there were two lives at stake.

He was losing blood and KATIE was still in shock, but she would snap out of it soon and maybe become frightened, start to fidget. It would be impossible to hold on. He had to do something and do it quickly.

Later, as the PARAMEDICS attended to MICHAEL in the ambulance, he thought about how they had escaped. He turned to KATIE, she was looking up at him, smiling. She was safe. He liked the way she made him feel when she smiled at him. He couldn't describe it exactly, it was something he needed. It made him feel good. It made him feel special. It made him dare to be great.

Strain

The smaller your circle, the smaller the gap between you.

Candlelight

TONY stared at his birthday cake. Somehow it seemed to have too many candles on it. He was ninety years old. “Ninety! When did that happen?” There was doubt in his mind, but it was true, he was ninety, and could not blow out his nine candles at once. He would cough if he did. Everyone worried about him when he coughed, especially the little ones. And he didn’t want that.

A smile crossed his lips as he remembered PAT. He had found answers for many of her questions, but she had died too young; too young to share them with him. He sighed, missing her. His love for her had never dwindled nor flickered; she would always be the love of his life. His eyes still lit up at thoughts of her. Thoughts which were more frequent lately, he grinned, maybe he was dying.

PAT was what you called a crazy-maker. If it wasn’t crazy, it would be, after PAT had her finger-prints all over it. Fingers that he loved to put in his mouth. He giggled to himself, he was being bad.

He sensed that someone was speaking to him and he looked up, a smile on his lips. It was DAVID. DAVID was a good son. He had watched DAVID grow, watched him avoid some of his mistakes; make a whole bunch of other incredible ones. TONY looked around, DAVID had done well. He had created a family for himself, one which supported him. TONY loved his only son, and would miss him.

They wanted TONY to blow out his candles. TONY beckoned to the little one. She was intelligent that one, just like PAT. She was also crazy.

He lifted her four-year old frame unto his knee, “You’ll help Grandpa blow --?” She blew a noisy raspberry on his cheek. He felt her soft little hands holding his cheeks, her odourless breath past his nose. He laughed.

Her mother, SUE was duly mortified by her antics. TONY liked SUE; she was a good person. She didn’t need to learn that the world needed crazy-makers, not yet, that came with age.

Everything is quieter when you are old. At first you suspect it’s your hearing, but after a while, you realize that you’ve just stopped listening, you’ve heard enough. Eventually, you’ll rely on your memories and if you’re lucky, you’ll have a crazy-maker in them. They make memories stand out.

TONY and his Grand-daughter faced the candles and took deep breaths. They blew out all the candles together. She leaned forward, pulling the candles off the cake. At the last one, she slipped and landed face first into it. She raised her face, a priceless look of cake and bewilderment written all over it.

TONY could see her MOTHER’S mouth moving, but he did not hear the words. All he could hear was his laughter, the joy of another precious memory. He was enjoying his birthday and best of all, PAT was near.

Lunacy

JACK was leader of the pack, but he lost control, when he laid eyes on her.

Something fearful lurked behind her eyes, he could feel it in his bones, it would be the death of him; the death of everything he held dear.

Her manner was gentle and her voice was soft, but JACK was cautious, his animal instincts on over-drive. He'd watch her closely; she behaved like she had no idea what she was doing to him. She was diabolical, but he was not dying without a fight.

When she wasn't there, he needed to know where she was. When she was there, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He had to keep this enemy closer than any other before.

Some days he ached because he was so tense. At nights he couldn't sleep because he was so tired. He was beginning to feel lost and now all he really wanted, was peace.

He howled at the full moon and looked around his dark forest. The high trees had always provided him with shade. He sat on his hind legs and licked his paw. Brushed back the thick hairs and waited, happy and safe in the knowledge, that death would soon come.

Beckoning

Walking down Long Street
His heart would beat
For the ladies plied their trade
And enchanted with their charade

With clear voices they would call
Promising virtues, vices and all
Cradling forward their tits
And really jiggling their other bits

He tried not to stare
Or look like he belonged there
As he opened his book to preach
For his calling was to teach.

Blinker

JENNIE left three years ago, yet ALLAN still found it difficult to leave the house. He could not understand the cold sweat that came over him every time he moved close to the front door. The walls seemed to rise and bear down on him. It was like all of a sudden, he had become small.

The Doctors had not been able to help, and more recently, friends had began to keep their distance. ALLAN knew that people thought he was broken and felt sorry for him but he did not care, there were too many unanswered questions about JENNIE troubling his mind. He was overwhelmed by all the different emotions, but deep down, he felt betrayed, exposed.

He stared at the ceiling and listened to the rain outside.

A THUD broke his rhythm; something had slammed against the window.

ALLAN edged closer to the window and saw something on the ledge outside. A wet little sparrow. It twitched and squeaked weakly in pain.

ALLAN stopped moving towards the sparrow when he started to get dizzy, this was the closest that he had come to the window in three years, but he was still too far away and there was nothing more he could do. He turned his back to the sparrow and returned to the couch.

He tried to sleep but the sparrow continued to squeak. So ALLAN covered his face with a pillow until finally, the squeaking stopped. Tired, he fell asleep.

Later, he woke up and it had stopped raining. He looked to the window and the sparrow was gone.

He felt sad and for a while wondered what might have happened. He came to the conclusion that he probably would never know. The sparrow might have fallen off the edge, flown away, or could have been snatched by a hunter bird, but none of it mattered anymore. What mattered was that he was by himself again and needed to get back to his life.

ALLAN's mind drifted back to JENNIE and again, he felt small. He felt sorry for himself, as his mind wondered. He wondered if there would ever be a solution for him or if things would stay the same.

Fantasy

It was the night before JR's fifth birthday when he discovered the hole in the wooden hallway floor. He had run down that hallway many times and never noticed the hole, he was intrigued, despite the fact that he needed to go wee.

A light seemed to glow from inside the hole, like it was another world. He half expected to see fairies drifting from it, dancing in the light. He placed his finger over the hole and a slight chill went through his body, his finger glowing from the light under it. It was a nice sensation, so he giggled.

He heard footsteps approaching and backed away. He noticed the glow flicker and wondered why for a second, but then his MOTHER entered the hallway.

She noticed him and immediately retorted, "We can't afford it. Don't ask me again." JR kept his head down as she turned the corner, then hurried to the hole, but the glow was gone. He sat and lamented, "She ruins everything".

A part of him wondered what life was like in the light, with all the fairies. He wanted to go. He was bigger than them and knew that they would make him their king, look after him. He rubbed at the ache in his chest, it was becoming more familiar. He knew that he could not afford to wait, he had to go that night, be happy again, just for a little while.

It was almost bedtime and he was running out of time. First, he used a knife, then the screwdriver, then a hammer, but they were not good enough, and the hammer made too much noise. He felt the urge to wee again, he was distracted by something he remembered; something his FATHER had said over the summer, that burning wood turned to ash.

Soon, JR lit a match and placed it next to the hole. It caught fire briefly and then the flame died. JR remembered how his FATHER had used gasoline to keep the summer barbeque wood burning.

JR found the half-empty can of gasoline behind his old mattress in the garage. He had always hated how the mattress smelt. It reminded him of nights he had been too scared to climb out of bed; shadows hiding behind every object, terrifying him. JR hurried out of the garage, spilling gasoline on his soft-shoes, his need to wee stronger than ever.

JR poured a little gasoline into the hole. He reached for the last match-stick and it fell into the can of gasoline. Angry at himself, JR hurried to get another matchbox from the kitchen. As he searched the kitchen, he crossed his legs, afraid he would wee on himself.

Under the hallway, in the basement, GRANDAD felt a drop on his forehead and woke from his light slumber. Just earlier, he had switched off the light of his living quarters to get some sleep. He touched his bald head and smelt the gasoline on his thin fingers. He sneezed as the fumes traveled up his hairy nostrils.

GRANDAD looked up at where the chunk of cracked ceiling had dropped off, next to the make-shift light fitting. He grunted with irritation and climbed out of his reclining chair, thinking to himself that he deserved to be treated better.

Upstairs, JR struck another match. He hoped to widen the hole enough to squeeze through. Suddenly, the hole glowed and he was distracted. He dropped the burning match-stick and it landed on his soft-shoes, setting them on fire. He jumped in fright and fell on the can of gasoline; as the flames erupted all over him.

JR woke with his hands on his willy. He jumped off his bed and dashed out of his bedroom. He barely managed to lift the toilet lid before urinating with a loud groan of relief.

Later, as JR climbed back under the covers, he felt proud that he had not wet his bed. As he closed his eyes to sleep, it occurred to him briefly, that his visit to the bathroom may have been a dream, it had happened before. His heart skipped a beat and he checked the bed, it was dry. He sighed with relief and felt proud once more.

Myopia

If you starve yourself, you will mistake food for nourishment.

Anything

If you can resist destroying it, it will fill your life.

Occupation

Careful what you desire, you might actually have to work for it.

Empathy

Only what has water can cry.

Generator

Question: How can you empower pain and suffering?
Answer: Be emotional about it.

Reflection

People say, "How can there be God when there is so much pain and suffering in the world?" I say, "How can there not be? Who else could be as generous with fulfilling our demands?"

Depth

Underneath all human facade is the need to share.

Boo!

Watching your face grow older is strange. You see it happening, slowly everyday, then one day, it creeps up on you.

Playing

Dancing in the rain washes the soles of your feet.

Healing

Many broken hearts resist change for fear of pain, forgetting that it was change that brought love in the first place.

Paradise

Many of us don't realise that the objective is to reach heaven before we die.

Readiness

The penalty dwarfs the crime when children are taught
to prepare for pain and not for love.
It is no wonder most don’t recognise it.

Honesty

Adults tend to disregard a child's feelings,
forgetting that a child is not protected by an adult’s
delusions or understanding.

Cycles

Many adults, like many children, want the same stories,
over and over again;
the predictability reassures them.
They have not grown up.

Direction

If you do, you believe you do. If you don't, you believe you don't. Actions and thoughts work together, beliefs are inevitable.

Willing

When I stopped stopping myself, nothing was stopping me.

Merit

Dreams come true, when we take them off the pedestal.

Integrity

As you remember your values in the presence of others,
others will see what you stand for, right or otherwise
and respect you for not being ashamed of yourself.

Orbital

When you realize that your emotions are not reality
and just your current mental expression of it;
you will have power.
You will know that everything is about your emotions,
managing your fuel.

Intercourse

I called out to the Sea
And she answered me;
"I am open and wide, deep and strong
Come rest your head, where it belongs"
I cried till I was sated
And laughed till my pain faded
I was home
And not alone

Agenda

A boy should be able to serve his mother; and a man, his wife. A girl should be able to worship her father; and a woman, her husband. Otherwise, it goes wrong.

Intension

We will realize that we were always right; every action was perfect, each thought complete; only we thought less of ourselves.

Dialogue with Inertia

I am not happy
Yet, ... I can move
Just afraid of change
... Being misunderstood.

I am still afraid
Yet, ... I can wait
But if I do
... There goes my fate.

The gates are locked
Yet, ... I have the key
And the world is outside
... Waiting for me.