One Foggy Morning

It was a summer morning like any other; except the metropolitan area was covered in fog. But that was to be expected. It had rained the night before, and the temperature dropped nearly ten degrees. Nobody’s routines were deterred because of the natural phenomenon.

Alex woke up at five that morning. Just like every weekday morning. Went through her ritual of ¬†being ready in ten minutes. It took twenty minutes for her to get to work, and she planned her morning so she could get as much sleep as possible. Traffic never bothered her. There weren’t many who traveled along the same road that early.

She pulled her double-knotted laces tight, grabbed her water bottle and morning snack, plucked her keys off the table, and pecked her husband on the cheek. Trotted down the stairs of her split level and into the garage. She was running two minutes late in a schedule accounting for every minute.

The Wrangler roared to life, the straight six engine awoken from slumber. Alex maneuvered out of her subdivision with ease. Despite the fog. Thanking Jeeps for fog lamps.

On the main stretch of road that took her straight to her job, she had to pay more attention. There were dips in the landscape where the fog gathered thickly. She looked up at the sky. No sun could be seen. Sure, it was early, but the sun should’ve been peeking over the horizon line by now. The fog and clouded over sky blended into one.

Alex shrugged it off and continued. Further ahead, the sky did decide to clear, revealing multiple cloud patterns against a pastel sky. She loved nature. Admiring the skyscape until a particular vapor trail snagged her attention. It went straight up into the atmosphere until she couldn’t see it anymore.

Again, she shrugged it off. Just her perception messing with her from the airport about forty miles east. The sky disappeared again. Her thumbs tapped the steering wheel as a random tune played in her mind. Vision going out of focus momentarily.

Red lights appeared in front of her, and she hit the brakes, slowing at a stoplight. She blinked and looked around. The fog had engulfed everything. She could barely make out the rival gas stations occupying opposite corners. Barely made out the stoplight itself. When the light turned green, she continued at the speed limit. Versus the ten miles an hour over she normally did.

After two minutes of silence, the ground lurched beneath her, and a loud bang followed. Causing her to mount the curb in a mad dash for safety. White fingers gripped the steering wheel. Her wide eyes checked the rear view mirrors. The road was still there.

A distant roar thundered toward her. She ducked and covered her head as a shock wave exploded the glass from her Jeep. Ears ringing, she slowly sat back up. Shards falling from her. She swallowed. Eyes examining the area. What on Earth?

She searched the Wrangler. Eased it back on the road. The fog had been replaced with equally dense smoke. Crawling at a snail’s pace, she moved further down the road. A few cars were deserted. Abandoned in precarious places. Some people stood in groups while others sat on the side of the road in despair.

A fire truck flew by her. Then another. Cop cars, ambulances. All from separate jurisdictions. Alex remained pulled over on the shoulder now. Studying the horizon. It glowed. Faintly. But enough.

Her wonder was startled by a man throwing himself against the front of her Jeep. His clothes were tattered, burned, dusty. His eyes almost popped out from his skull. He waved an arm. “Get out of here! Go! Don’t you know what this is? It’s the end times! A missile has struck! Leave or die!” He disappeared back into the curtain of smoke.

Alex watched him run off. A missile? She sat in disbelief for a few moments. Threw the shifter in drive and forced the Wrangler around. Flying down the forty miles per hour road at eighty. Work was out of the question. Her jaw set. She needed to get back to her husband.

It hadn’t even been twenty minutes, and everything changed. She glanced at the rear view mirror again. Who knew what would be revealed when the smoke and fog cleared.


My Golden Eagle

He was wild
Completely untamable
Wanting to go in all directions
Going in every direction
Back and forth
Never tiring
Blazing his own trails
Bowing not to another
Friend only to earth and sky
Riding forever on the wind
Tied only by gravity
Barely touching ground
No permanent name
No history
Freedom at its best
Passion for life
Facing every fear
Laughing at every foe
Defying destiny
A phantom
A drifter
A loner
An extraordinary man
One I loved to refer to as
My Golden Eagle


The Rose in the Pinecone 


Human Interactions

Silence
Because nobody wants to hear words
Lies
Because nobody wants to accept truth
Masks
Because nobody wants to know realness
Cheerfulness
Because nobody wants to perceive depression
Strength
Because nobody wants to see weakness
Fine
Because nobody wants to attend pain
Pettiness
Because nobody wants to genuinely care
Arrogance
Because nobody wants to admit imperfection
Selfishness
Because nobody wants to observe others
Pedestals
Because nobody wants to seem lower
Distance
Because nobody wants to get close
Success
Because nobody wants to praise failure
Wealth
Because nobody wants to acknowledge poverty
Hatred
Because nobody wants to understand love
Force
Because nobody wants to truly coexist
Life
Because nobody wants to confess death


Bird Bath Reflections


Ocean

The ocean crashed ashore; he heard it. Wave after thunderous wave, it never ceased. And it was all behind him. The sun beat down on his back. It seemed to burn him. He didn’t feel comforted by the rays like normal. His body felt heavier with the heat, and the soft sand accepted his weight.

He twitched his fingers. Making sure he still had motor functions. Clenched fistfuls of sand. He opened his eyes. Bright haze flooded his sight. The storm had passed. He lifted his head, but his strength was gone. It fell back down.

The water continued splashing and roaring. It never reached him. The wind whipped his knotted hair about his head. His heart rate picked up as his skin tightened. He realized he was drying. It grew harder for him to breathe. Lungs feeling constricted. His jaw slid open for more air. He received a mouthful of sand. His blurry vision momentarily blacked out.

A cry reached him. Shouting. Followed by responses of another voice. He tried moving, tried getting away. But it was useless. His muscles strained and trembled, but they didn’t move. He couldn’t make out what the two voices said, even as they approached. All his senses were fading quickly.

The pair was upon him now. There wasn’t anything he could do. Not even thrash. He would be subjected to them. Something was thrown upon him. It was wet. The excess water flowed along his form. He was picked up. They were carrying him.

Yet, the only thing that mattered was the liquid on his drying flesh and scales. It relieved him. He could breathe normally. His tense muscles finally relaxed. His heart beat eased. And he allowed the small amount of water succumb him into unconsciousness.


A Warrior’s Poem

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If you mess with the rose
You’ll be pricked by thorns
If you mess with the bull
You’ll be struck by horns
If you mess with the sword
You’ll soon taste iron
If you mess with the dragon
You’re asking for fire

A warrior may not always win
But a warrior will never bend
I will fight even when cornered
I will fight until I look horrid
I will fight with passionate fury
I will fight with vision blurry
I will fight until my last breath
I will fight even after death

Do not put on my grave
How I won or saved the day
If I had words on my grave
This, I would want it to say:
I helped those I found in need
And the captives, I helped freed
I did what I felt to be right
I didn’t accomplish everything with might
For there are higher powers above
And the greatest of these is Love


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