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How many people we had buried down in the soil? there in the road, the sounds of birds and the great worms, formed by the straight slope of the pavements, make one almost forget, the many people, we had buried under sand, under our skin, where the curse remains intact.
I Look out of my windows, and I see the faces, like a bouncing mirror. They remind me of the things, humanity is capable, for even when loving we hurt one another, in process of finding happiness, we are blind spots, targeting everyone. the country sound of the radio just reminds me, of the following days of alcohol, the rum and the beers of taking off t-shirts, and dancing, under the imagen future we almost fail grasp, this is some sort of changing phase, to think of the future, like it might never come, but it is the past we try to forget that attach us uncertainties and terror.
What happen to last night? well as you could imagine, I got wasted over the thoughts, over the image of the things lost. when we are most alone, is when conscience becomes its own, voice, its own person. when I put on my clothing, by the time I ate my breast fast.
Every bite of cereal was as boring as any other day under the streets signs and traffic lights. They change and we move at their speed without even noticing we produce a pattern, a distress signal that wants the monster to get out, when we rush and see the green light, we go on and forget that everyone has to get home. They all return, these memories of family, the things I might lose, the friends I had buried under the sand. I was convinced that I need to take action, and figure out a way to take IT, without the needing of a second hand.
As I leave my apartment, right in my door is the building manager, her face hungry as if she does not familiarize with the situation I am in, well people do not familiarize when they need to survived, not even a bit I think, as she says "where is the rent money" "you been late for paying many times, you are late two months "Mr." " if you do not get this money, by tomorrow," "you might find yourself counting cars, on the street, and not in that lousy ass, Gas monkey from the TV Show." her raging eyes looking at me, like I had committed the greatest of all crimes, and the look of disappointment we all see in people that do not really understand what can someone be going through in silence. They all seem to laugh about it, and forget the reason why some people might find, themselves in certain situations, just a reminder of the things we do, when we think there are no other people more important than us.
As I say, don’t Worry Mr. DAISY, you might find yourself selling all my stuff, I assure you, it would be great for your finances, if THAT all you care about" anyhow, everything has a solution, a no matter, how long it takes we soon gather the necessary strength to fight it.
Do not worry MS. Daisy, I get your money as soon a possible, I say,
she looks at me mad saying, “Tomorrow" " not a day less or more " Tomorrow!" before “I have to pull out all the few things you still have out"
She left my apartment room, kicking with her foots, and making her steep being felt by the floor. You could hear her angriness with me, being discharge with everything around, the poor floor I think, she might crack it someday. I Knew that that taking action was the only way in which I could find a solution, to my current situation, and that the recent death of many people I had burry had left me on this world with nothing, we all think about the moment when we feel the loneliest, and we search and fear death, when the fact is the people that live, are the one suffering, the cold edge of reality.
They left us, after so long, they left us living upon the scratches of their memories, looking up to their pictures, and those phone messages we never deleted from our phones. I remember the day when all the lights were off, for me, when I lost everything I cared about, and all the things I used to cherish fallen into a glass of water, unable to float in the top, unable to sail the great ocean that becomes age.
In the meantime, I when into my car, an old Chevy 69, I happen to get for free at a church benefits, as all the things I got, given to me by other people, people do not longer in my life because they had either die or being buried in the past. it is them when we think,
"what has happened to us in the proses of searching for happiness, and that we all search for unknown adventures in a puddle of water.
It was in that moment, that I decided to take action, when all the things seem to be blindly by my own ego, a moment when I decided to get the tools to in my ignorance free myself from the chains that life offers, and all the joys that sometimes might deliver us to suffering, nearby there is a Home Depot, I need a few things, so I make a stop.
These places like Home Depot, always pack, with people, and as employs salaries never seem to increase,
they say slavery was abolish " well perhaps it did not, perhaps it just took a new name "Hours" as I when it, one of the cashiers look and smile at me, she says "hi" good morning, be sure to take some flowers to your girlfriend, oh I think, I forgot that is that time of the year, when most people pretend to be nice, just because they believe in the idea, no one should be alone in a February 14, even if I sound a little grumpy, the truth is that at least 70 percent of this relationships last one night, and the ones that carries over, well just happen to end in a few months.
Then the fight starts and the monsters get out, after a time of butterflies, the Monsters always get out, and we pretend to see the sun, the light of an imagen future, as we see the shadows taking over, and the lights of angels turning into demons.
She used to call me crazy “the things she used to say and the time we spend together was at some point in my life, the thing that defined me. It was then in the shadows when she said the most meaningful words, a man only hears one of two times in his life "you in your little boat, bouncing back and pedaling, Like a well champ" I wonder the reason why she says such things, and before last night and what happen, I could only imagen if somehow my life hold meaning, if somehow, I could catch the boat, and sail into the dream of God, like a tiny butterfly; a worm looking for his everlasting Wisdom.
It was them when most thing collapsed, that I had decided to step in this "Home Depot" and take action, after the atrocity I think, life had committed there is one solution, hiding all the things I had done, I AM Feeling in the shadows, where they belong.
This place and all places share one thing in common, they sell dreams, and give you wings to fly up and yet hold the wire, so you do not learn to fly. As walk into this desolated place, All the wooden things to be made, into houses, coffins and pipes; they all shatter, in the water, by which we remember the moment we are born into sound. It was there that a person nearby notices my uncertainty and approaches me, saying " can I help you sir?" " you look sore of lost" are you looking for something in particular? " to which I say " yes "Tom" referring to the name on his T-shirt, and by the look and old person that manage to survive the vice, the morn, and cold welcoming of life, in the most fragile way, he is a survival.
I tell him "yes” “ I am looking for a 1/2 by6 feet tall wood, a sailcloth and a rope” as he look at me and says " ah you can find that in the carpentry section, I can cut all the wood for you" really nice like they all are I think, he continues " what type of project are you working on, if you do not mind the question?" as I say "no problem" "I am making some changes, a new garden, putting some fertilizer and seeing how it would grow from the ground" most stupid line I ever say but at least I do not have to live with the judgment of people.
"ah" Tom says, "my wife Lucy happen to be a great grower " we have some tomatoes, and peppers but she does not quite gets cherries right” “the insets eat them always, and we do not like all those chemicals," to which I say "we never know what we are eating these days, but growing cherish and falling is a something in life, we have to see them go, to learn how important they are" "yes" Tom says as he smiles "I understand all you talking about" "after being married for so long I do understand something about, failing and trying, 40 years of marriage are challenging but all the little moments worth it.
: Ha” I think, as he finished to cut the wood, in the sharpest way, with the sharps tools, which sound called me.
So, he cut the wood and put it into a shopping car nearby, and says "there you go MR.,” you can find the other things by the corner in line 3," "Good luck making that garden, I hope something good grows out of it. thanks, “I hope you never fail on cherish” Thank you I say as I gather these few words of wisdom, when I could not hear anything, when the mean nothing.
I find a sailcloth, quite big, for fitting a person or two inside. the rope was nearby, and the shovel tented me, to buy one. They all shine as I saw my reflection in the dark pain, of such tool of gardening. What do we do we garden? in earth, Love? is love as impossible as it is catchable, and unpredictable?
I head on, with all these gardening tools, to the cashier, the same nice girl that ask me about the flowers and girlfriends. She smiles and looks at me, in a way we look when we are trying to discern the story our eyes and lips are unable to capture in the presence of another, so deep in deception, we fall, we never know. " she says is that all?" "100$ dollar”, I look in my, wallet and have not cash with it is full of creditcard, nothing. I handed it over to her, as she passes it over, the card device, I think about, all the people that spend money that they do not have, in things like this, in tools of gardening and farming the future. She says, "sing here, please" and look at me I say, “thank you have a nice day,” as If I do not know what does word, really worth for some people. the money I spend does not matter, nothing matters only knowing that it must be done, for better thing, regardless of good or bad; I was do deep into shit, all in like a poker players, unable to manage a good bluff, the fucking garbage we are feed on TV, the dream we believe when, we are children, that never catch on, with our reflected self, The person we become, the trace we hope to follow, become our only way to salvation.
When I head on towards 9 road expressways, all the cars' light hitting at the same direction, with their music on, and their shields down, where reminders of lose things. The radio was on, and all the music could not find itself to comply, with the rhythmic echo, of the whispered air, of cigarettes liquor in my car. They all return, the memories, the quiet momentum, when we were young and running like a pedaling bicycles, our legs stretch farther, in search of a lost dream. We yet manage to breathe and hope, the last remainders of our souls, quiet its goes towards unknown Labyrinth hidden moments truth. I heard the tools and wood moving in the back seat, as I look out my windows, I see their faces worrying and moving in one direction, speaking, arguing, and fighting, about the little things with solutions, but after what had happened to me, I believe nothing else had been more terrible, than to experience, death at first hand, than to feel the clothing of lights, the heavens falling, the palm of God bending, to the will of men.
It was then, nearby when the music hit on, laundering and merging the moment to comply, when tears decided that it was time to fall, in the cold dirty floor of my cars. " what do we find in these dark places?" I Ask myself in the path to freedom, in the muting sound of cold floors "what do we find them hidden, amend the records?" but my father, always says, that the strength of a man lies in his capacity to outbid pain. Some few words come back out of these moments, how I lost her to the great mirages, and them I blame it all in God, when it was me, the cause of the indecent, the pain she curses, the incurable sicken sea, where she perishes.
She was there in heaven, a frozen angel, like liberty immovable, but yet the great mirage deceived her, to think of me as the havens that she need it, to believe blinded, in the moments of shadows with me, to be the ones to set light free. How blindly she believed in me? like we believe in money, only with a few more reasons.
It was yesterday when she dies, cold it was and my eyes saw her life fleeing in the vast air, all the drugs are not yet painful, as too see the air gone of lungs in fire, her combusting air, when her loans fail to breathe, where shadows, a toss coin of angels and demons.
It was then when she gathers the last word, to tell me to change the path. To scare I was that I did not make noticed of her last sound, that those few world locks in my subconscious, there in the bed, the doctors convinced me, that there were no other ways, but to try to operate, the sicken blast of cigarettes out of her lungs. In a way, it was my fault, even now I still smoking, my fingers filing the rush to pull one out of the air. Yesterday I deceived to take action, for the pain was too much to believe that God was real, and that he watches overs us, from his shining golden throne.
when they came out, to tell me of her death, I remember how I could stop, to tear down, how I believe was over, and her last breath of live still moving in my head, like a cold knife shaving my every hair.
The sound playing on the radio, "HURT" As I move toward the desolated place, where we find folding and folding of ground, by the fields of corn, the snakes vast in such place and all we need to disappear is to sink in the green sea of trees. I stop near by the street, carry over the tools I got at the Home Depot, they are quite heavy as I carry them, so I made two trips. In the second one, I stop and think about the action I was going to take, and everything was so sure of falling them, and I take a final step to redemption I believed. As I move away some of the corn from the field; it was clear there was no way back when I pulled some with my very hands, and the things started to lose sense. There I place the four pieces of wood I got from the home depot and nail them to the ground as if a was camping and making a trend, them put on the sailcloth on it as if I was planning to cover from the rain, while leaving two, the from one a little love to pull with the rope.
it was then when i started digging and putting all the soils in top of the sailcloth, shoveling one by one the feet need it, tired up believing that this was a solution. when I finish my action, all it my was almost sun down, and the beautiful clouds carry out a bloody message, red they were as the sun went down, I WALK one more to my car and turn the radio off, walk back and threw myself in the hole holding the rope, for a few minutes, nothing made sense, and I was wondering about the action I was going to take, I thought about what she might thing about it is so happens, perhaps I disappointed her, perhaps I meet her or not in the other side. there after pull the rope the two from wood collapses as a result the soil started to come down fast covering my body in the soils. I was with my close eyes "what happen next" I think in silence, as we all see darkness with eyes close, "God forgive me" I say, surely without noticing, after a few minutes, I notice the soil fail to cover me up, and my head was out in the open, while the rest of my body unable to move, as If yet I have a last lesson to learn, out in the word of wisdom of men.
The night fall down, and all the creatures come out, the snakes, the wolf, and scorpion, I HEAR sounding.
They all approach as the climbing night, taking over the field, this garden, filled with secrets. Their sound was elusive and the wolfs and spiders, scorpions and snakes, they have a last sound to tell, to the everlasting whisper of life. There buried under the ground, I got to think of better things, and their elusiveness to make us remember; her last smiles were a welcoming bite, that perigees the heart to external places. I look up the heavens searching for God, asking for his forgiveness, for I had failed the motives of his conscience to shallow rivers and puddles. I could feel the ground sinking my body, the rocks pressing against my bones and the heavy price, of death soon to come, no by my hand, yet the hand of nature.
The predators at night, hunted, my body, the smell of my fresh and the wounds broken bones were calling their most animal impulses to chase, the direction was on. only my head remains out, as if to weakness, what I tried to do with my own hand, with a close view. It is in these moments when we call and not receive answers from mortal beings. It is in these moments when we see the magical creation of life; in there by the rushing night and the predators that come, to show us, how them we became humans. I Saw the moon that night, and it shines there by the sky and the cloud, with more beautiful colors than the ones I seem before. There is a mystery in thinking that we are going to see things for the last time; such things make us realized the benefit of being alive, in a world just changeable by our actions.
There they came, I hear their roars, it was a of the white wolfs’ pack, they approached through the soil. I feel their steps coming, and scaling in the ground. As if death, itself they are approaching by the cliff of a night. I hear them singing the sound of death, I hear them "---- ARH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” one-time ARH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” a second-time ARH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" a third time,
and them complete silence for a bit, with the urge of uncertainty I knew death was coming. It was there I saw the terrifying ACTION I was trying to do in my urge for liberating myself to from pain.
There the silent minutes go for hours and we fear the cold edge feeling of death, it comes, it goes like those fairy tales whispering our names, in a giant list made up of other names who just happen had thought the same. It was them when I remembered her last words, her last whispers in there all shattered up and broken, "live on" she says "Live on" "for there is always a better tomorrow" I cry when I realized that close to death we are living, I cry when I realized how I had failed her, in my selfishness of loving her far more than myself.
One, ONE wolf came, as I look into its red eyes, I feel a Pitiful feeling, a within voice telling me "what I am going to do with you?"
"Puppy" its eyes cladding down to speak,
It leaked my face, many times as is keeps staring, and then leaf disappear into the fog.
leaving me with the trace of life.
The darkest night felt down crawling. As if vampires have risen to fly in the heaven, such dark thoughts we climb into, when desperation find us naked. My bones were shattering, and the Wolf had left its mark over the few remaining traces of my souls. His red eyes are a close reminder of how close I was to die, and a silent voice of hers, the one who left me before time. They come and go these memories, the tears in welcoming of a new day of shatter objects. As we become old, they come to remind us on how we failed.
This silent ghost eludes us then, but there comes the time when we meet them again. The night, as all the creatures seem to have welcomed me, to their fog and legends as a simmering sound all crickets seem to be happy on knowing that I failed to commit my action. They sing "father" "son" "Friend" as the future reveals itself to me, they sound as if nature has welcomed me to a new life. Once tired and the weight of the soil over my chest, I can feel it pressing, and clamping me flat. Tired up are my eyes, and they seemed beauty, in the light of days where she breathed life, they have seemed it and kiss it.... as the moving wind, they dream of her while looking.
As I passed out to the tiredness, I can count my last hours to come, for the substantial ground has almost left me out of breath, and my muscles and bones will soon collapse under the earth. The stones, wood bit I felt on my chest and legs, how did I fail her? I think silently to myself. They send angels to find us in our sleep, a sound a quietness only known to God, as I dream of her speechless in the quiet thought. While her clothes, golden, find me in the darkness.
So, close to finding the eyes of God, as they become most the intimate to me, they closed in the entering door, and I felt happy for I know I had not yet failed her, and redemption might yet be at hand.
“Such moment is when a mortal becomes immortal”.
The fallen tree's branches of life and the mud in all my body was peculiar as it happens to close the desire to the traveling truth of a fallen yet unsteady sleep we call death. As for them, those who are gone, we find the strength to feed conscience in a way in which pain find itself not to blind us. in this desolated place cover up with all the problems a second is all the time. As for questions, we asked quietly into our brain. What else to do? If I come out of this surviving my actions? And the mere resemblance of what I believe it was true what then? There I remembered the time before closing my eyes, night after night, after she died, as a mere pass second which happen to obscure the full scheme of her colors and the way she happens to love me, in a place out of darkness, where there were no voices, other than the sound, we hear in the solace of rain. She was a piercing whipper of beauty of the things we see as they come out of the darkness spreading the fogginess of the world. in a quiet sentence, I say " I Forget myself" in a silent whisper I burry with sand the transgressions of life yet not liven.
Soon my eyes closed and the trees mesmerizing fragments of light, coming thought, the little gaps between the leaves, give way to the coming moon, in the speed of light where I see it, the beauty. I felt to sleep like a baby, my brain and pain, found forgiveness.
Once more I opened my eyes to the world, the same trees that at night seem to elude my life, just find themselves more shivering and shining against the sun. Is my love for her so powerful that it had made me immortal, incapable of dying, "am I death?" is a thing I ask myself, as I soon collide hearing the sound of sirens coming in their peculiar way sounding, opening my eyes to see the light, like a towers clock announcing the beginning of a new day.
It was in midday when they found me, burn up skin in the sun, dry lips from the loss of water in this desolated place. Alone.
Detective Moore Says as the paramedics move, unburying me out of the ground and placing me into their care “you will be ok, you will live on to count the hours, Tom from the home depot and the cashier call us, concerned, because you were seen to be a man with a purpose, of all the things this was the least I was expecting, MR. Carrier, am reading your Id Correctly.
Yes officer, thank you I say, slowly with my dry lips. as they found a new whisper for life.
“Thank God we find you” he says “what you tried to do with this invention of yours? Ha, I can think of better things you could build......” He said it in a quiet laugh “but anyway, for all the nights there is a day, and you someday, soon wake up to be a little boy once more, pedaling to find wonders to cherish.
Fin
©Rémy Rytepo
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