More Miles, More Time

Life is a single word used to describe the infinite amount of various time lines we all live. While two people may have lived for the same amount of time, they could each experience life in drastically different manners. For a few, life describes the few precious heartbeat’s a child has before it is taken from this world. For others, life describes the accumulation of a hundred and thirty years of loved ones coming and going, memories clear as day and as blurry as thick fog. Life is a unique experience we all have and share in.

For me, I am 29 years old and I am just starting to put miles on this body. While I have enjoyed my years, it would be hard to say I have enjoyed these last 15 years more than my first 15 years. Yet I remember more from these last 15 years than my first 15. I was an adult for most of it and therefore had a freedom to pursue whatever I pleased. I could let the burn of vodka touch my throat to wash away the bad days or I could let the bubbly and dry taste of champagne wet my lips in celebration of a friends wedding. As a child, I didn’t have any of these privileges.

Yet as a child I could do many things I am unable to do as an adult. For instance a child doesn’t pay for food. Doesn’t matter if its chicken strips or a rack of delicious ribs, children don’t pay a dime for food. I guess that’s not completely true. Sometimes we do have to pay for a candy bar or an apple. Even then though, we pay for it from our parents wallets. This describes my childhood, not childhood in general.

There are kids out there starving, with no parents and no pockets. No food. No shelter. No siblings to bicker with and complain about. Maybe not even family or friends. These are the things an adult comes to see about the world but from an adult point of view. They see the lack of things in a child’s life as they see the lack of success or money or cars in their driveway. It is not healthy nor is it a good practice to learn. If one measures their life by the wants of their life, then they will always be needing.

What we should want is more miles, more time, and for Gods sake a larger cup of coffee.


Late Night Musings

Emotions crashed over him like waves against rocks. He leaned back in the booth and could feel the tension in his shoulders. How people enjoy things like this he didnt know. 

The music blarred at an unusually high decibal. That was the only thing he liked. The world was drowned out and his thoughts muted. Singular voices were lost becoming a babble in the night. Here and there he could make out words and conversations and it annoyed him to no end. So many of them were shallow as a dried up lake bed.

The people he could do without. Most people were needless, unnecessary. Yet here they were taking up space. They were careless consumers, a cog in a machine with no purpose. What was it all for?

Missed Connections

Stories should be told about the cracked hearts. The ones bleeding out as their mind determines how much longer they can wait before being officially stood up. Again. Is there a defined time or is it more of a range? 

Never the less, it does little to silence the voices which surface or the pain from smouldering. Stories should be told of these missed loves, these casually dismissed futures.

 I fear though, no one would read them. Who would wish to learn the shy guy with beads of sweat on his brow would have been an amazing husband and father. Yet the reciept with his number quickly found the trash because he was maybe an inch too short. 

Shifting Times

Ellis dabbed at his nose with his sleeve. It came away with small blotches of blood. He pulled his tattered back pack from his shoulder and chucked it against the metal fence just a few yards off to his left. The bag rebounded off the fence and slid in the dirt. Ellis spared a hateful glance behind him. Unconsciously his hands made a fist. He threw a punch at the face of an imaginary individual and screamed in anger.

“Next time Reese you will be the one bleeding.” Ellis’ anger was subsiding and the pain of the fight was coming to the fore front of his mind. He leaned against the fence and slid to the ground.

“Was this yours?” The voice of a girl asked. Ellis’ head shot up. His eyes wide with fear. He nodded. Had she heard what he said? She handed him his back pack and then sat against the fence a few feet away.

“You are taller and stronger than Reese. Why didn’t you fight back?” She asked. Her voice was sweet. Ellis could almost hear concern in it.

“I am afraid.” Ellis said.

“Afraid of losing and being laughed at?” The girl asked. Ellis remembered her name. She went by Harper and had been relocated a few years ago to the Mundane colony.

“Afraid I will enjoy hurting people.” Ellis said. The confession seemed loud in the waning house of the day. Harper didn’t respond. He heard the shuffling of dirt beside him and looked over at her. She was gone. A pair of ripped light blue jeans stood in her place.

Ellis’ heart sank as his focus rose higher. Reese slammed a fist down at Ellis’ upturned face. Ellis closed his eyes in anticipation but it never landed. A second later he heard a crack like a tree branch breaking then a howl of agony. Ellis opened his eyes.

Above him was Harper and Reese. Reese clung to his arm where the bone was tasting fresh air for the first time. Its edge was jagged and blood flowed from the wound like a leaky faucet. Harper’s hand flashed and Reese’s scream was cut short. In the blink of an eye she landed a quick punch to his throat. Reese collapsed to the ground.

Screams and yells erupted just around the corner.

“Quick, take my hand!” Ellis took her hand but knew the shouts were too close. They would round the corner and find a boy close to death and him with a bloody face. He would be the one charged with assault.

As Harper’s fingers intertwined with his the world stopped. He looked up at her. A slight grin across her face.

“You told me your secret. It’s only fair I show you mine. Just don’t let go.” Hand in hand, Ellis picked up his bag and the contents which spilled. When it was resting on his shoulder again, they strolled away. They had walked North five blocks in the span of just a few seconds.

They walked a few more blocks and found a bench to sit on. When they stopped Harper asked, “Whats it like to be Mundane, to not have an ability? Does time pass at the same rate all the time?”

Ellis looked at her confused. “It’s boring. Mundane’s can’t do anything special. We don’t have any inherent talents and can’t participate in the anything really. We barely exist to the outside world. Were just boring and useless. Don’t you control time or speed or something?” Harper nodded.

“Time, but it’s not that simple. I can make time go slower or faster but oftentimes I can’t control for how long.” Harper looked over at Ellis. Behind his eyes she could seem him trying to work through the meaning of what she said. “For the last few days, this has been how fast time has been going for me.”

A few moments passed and then Ellis finally answered. “So when you were sitting next to me by the fence earlier?”

“It was hours of trying to sit perfectly still.”

“And the fight?”

“Like playing with a life sized doll.”

“And what happens now?”

Harper smiled, “Now we have fun till time starts to speed up again.” She kissed him on the cheek and then bolted off the bench, pulling Ellis to his feet.



The rubble beneath me vibrated as another explosion went off a few streets over. Glass from hundreds of windows shattered and fell like glittering rain drops. My breaths came in short gasps as I hunched doubled over on hands and knees in the middle of the remnants of a downtown street. At least two or three broken ribs I thought.

I lifted my gaze just enough to see dozens of mangled and bloody bodies littering the street before me. This was not like the fairy tales written in books. This was the reality of magic and monsters, of hero’s and villain’s.

Sharp pain blossomed like fire from my arm as the head of a barbed arrow erupted from my left bicep. Crimson blood splattered the ground as the arrowhead severed tissue, muscle and veins. I screamed in pain as my arm went limp and dangled uselessly.

Gathering the remains of my energy, slightly refreshed from new found rage, I beat my wings and rose into the smoke filled sky. A dark streak passed in a blur no more than a foot away. My wings beat harder fanning the small fires below me into a single inferno. Carried along the wind I heard a voice.

“We condemn you Raphael.” My eyes searched for the source and found it. Far below stood a group of five men and two women poised for battle but not all armed. My eyes bored into the soul of the angel standing in the middle of his small honor guard.

“Mankind has poisoned these gardens for too long Michael. Let their bodies fertilize the land.”


The Lighthouse

“The light can never go out,” explained the old lighthouse operator. “Ships don’t need us. Haven’t in quite some time. It’s the people here on land who’ll suffer if that light ever goes out.”

Jakar watched with pinched eyes as the old man wet his lips with another beer.

“Those lights were built to never go out. I don’t think anyone has ever seem them dark.” Jakar said. The old man wiped his mouth the back of his forearm.

“When I was I lad I saw it. Pitch black it was.” He shook his head and brought the beer up to his lips once more. Jakar knew he wasn’t going to get much more out of him. All the man wanted to do now was wash away his day with alcohol. Jakar slipped into his jacket and left.

The sun had disappeared while he had been inside the bar. The chilled night air cut through his jacket and was heavy with the scent of sea salt. In the distance Jakar could see the lighthouse. It was one of the oldest still standing in the region the old man had said. He began to walk down the wide open streets to keep himself warm. Only a few people were out but the ones he passed nodded to him and bid him a nice evening. Jakar clenched his fist each time someone passed.

Unconsciously he was drawing nearer to the lighthouse and now approached the outskirts of the small town. He continued. He couldn’t stop himself from being drawn to white tower with its light revolving around its peak. Yet with each step closer to the lighthouse Jakar felt his emotions rise like a storm.

“Can I help you?” said a deep voice, shattering the silence of the night and calming Jakar down some.

“I was speaking to an older man at the pub. I believe he used to work at one of the light houses around here. He mentioned one of them may be looking for a helping hand come the winter.”

“Aye, you speak of Mr.Taylor do you?”

“Yes. I believe that was his name.”

“What did you say your name was boy?” the man in the darkness asked from a distance. He was standing behind a waist high fence about twenty yards off. His voice sounded like the rumblings of a storm itself.

“Jake.” Jakar said walking closer.

“Well Jake, if you take another step, that leg’s going to be gone.” Jakar stopped. In an instant the man had raised and leveled a gun at him. He couldn’t make out what kind of weapon it was but something about the mans hands told Jakar he knew how to shoot.

Jakar raised his eyes up to the white tower residing a hundred yards off. Waves crashed in the distance but they did nothing to drowned out the man’s voice.

“There has never been a Mr. Taylor in this town. Now turn around and leave Jake.”

“I wish I could.” Jakar said flatly. His eyes fixated on the light. He started to walk forward.

The crack of a gunshot split the night. Jakar collapsed. Tendrils of smoke rose from the shotgun.

“Honey?” A woman screamed with concern from the lighthouse. A moment later a blade of light flashed erratically in the night.

“Stay back darling. Let me see the light though.” Jakar had been silhouetted by the lights of the town and the moon but no more. He shone the light on Jakar. A velvet red pool was quickly growing around the boys mangled leg. As the light hit the boy’s face, the man saw teal blue blood seeping from the boys pores and eyes. The blood sizzled like oil in a frying pan as the light revealed it.

“Inside. Call the police darling. Quick.” said the man giving the light back to his wife. She took off sprinting through the thigh high grass. A screen door slammed. Two sets of teal blue eyes sparked to life in the darkness like shooting stars.

“You have made a grave mistake land walker.” A voice whispered and then the eyes were gone.


What a Lovely Way to Burn

Summer, fall, winter, spring, it does not matter the season, the weather or the the location, we all will burn. Some of us will burn brighter, some lighter. Some of us burn at night, alone in a room with the door closed and headphones on. Some of us burn during the day in a room filled with eyes taking in our every movement. The ways in which some of us burn is not whats in question. Do you burn? That is the question.

The streets and alleys and roads and paths and trails are becoming crowded with people searching. Searching for something they were told to find, were told they needed. Leave the house, get a degree, get a job, turn the job into a career and eventually one day you will be happy. One day.

One day, it will come to you and by then hopefully you will have enough experience in your career to get that dream job, and enough financial stability to leave your current one. Its not that hard. You just have to make money to support yourself and your significant other, and raise your children and pay for their college, and car, and insurance and food and housing too. Least you forget the family vacations every year and the holiday’s and the emergencies and eventually one day you will be happy.

Today can be the day when you begin to burn. When you start to be more than just a person who drifts through life. When you start to make a change in the world around you. When you start to set fire to the passion lying dormant and unused inside you.

There is a road inside you, one not taken by any other. One which traverses out of your comfort zone and through your dreams and around the people you love. This path requires a sacrifice for it requires a great amount of fuel to travel such a hard and dangerous road. That fuel is you. So, instead of lying around decaying. Discover how lovely it is to finally burn for something.