Chewing On Glass Presents: Beyond the End…

“Despite purified air, despite not going out for months, despite no human contact in over a year, and despite a diet balanced out to be everything that my body needs. I have become sick. I have become infected with something I have to silently suffer with. Alone and isolated I lost everything and yet I still managed to pack everything for this exact scenario. I have planned every possible outcome of everything. The architect of my own demise. How could I have been so careless? They warned me long ago but I didn’t listen. I didn’t think it was possible. Chasing darkness into the night. Should have known better. Should have been better than to question the idea of immorality. I dreamed of immorality but what is it really? It is nothing more than infinite knowledge and a never ending legacy of pain and sorrow. Threw it all away. Should have let the idea of death take over. Would I be human then if I had?

I am well suited for immorality since anything that mattered died a long time ago. I’ve given up on the idea of humanity. Become more like God than I’d like to admit. I am as if I am immortal though only time will tell how long it will last. Time and days are a human idea. Immorality and life are God ideas, but where and what are you when stuck in between the crossroads of God and man? I can create and destroy anything I wish by shaping this reality. Shaping another’s reality. I am my own God and my own savior, but will I also be my own end? The question fills my heart with no answers. The isolation proves theories I thought were only myths. There is no God greater than the sun. There is nothing beyond the stars but more darkness. There is no true meaning of life beyond the end. Not when we can control it ourselves. I’ve unleashed the end of all things to come. Now is the time for me to enjoy the end. For we are our own damn God’s.”

“End of transmission,” the computer states. “But there is no body?” A solider questions. His uniform the same as the rest. “Then we have to assume he is still out there. We must find him. As long as he lives he holds the power to end it all,” his superior says. “So it is true then. He is the source. He is the God of all of us?” The young solider questions. “There is no God only the devil. This man is no architect of our creation or our end,” their leader barks. “He is nothing more than a virus. A sickness we have been trained and created to get rid of. We will find him and put a stop to all of this. Now let’s move out,” he orders. 

This one is a bit of a stretch… not a whole lot of information given… yet it is packed full of information… if you remember Chasing Darkness and Beginning of All Things… These three stories are connected by a very thin life line… when going through my notes I found these three different stories… not connected but very similar… on their own they were okay… but if there was a sub theme of connection?… got me excited enough to finish them off…

So if this didn’t start off as a connected story… but rather a stand alone story… what was I writing about… the opening paragraph… the only part kept from the original notes… was actually the first pass at whole other story… a still work in progress story called the Undamned… I hope to turn that into a book some day… that story and this story stemmed from my overall desire to disappear into the darkness…

At the time I was working overnights… long hours… isolated and divided into a small group of people… looking back it was a pretty fucked up time for me personally… but as a writer it definitely produced a lot of ideas and thoughts… left to my own devices I’d probably do nothing but write… create… sounds pretty awesome as a writer… but it isn’t a life… it isn’t living… took me way to long to realize that… took me way too long to understand that life is about those around you and not all about you… took a lot for me to open my eyes… but having a child really forced my eyes open…

Having a child made me rethink my whole existence… what I was willing to do or not do to keep living in this world… before then I didn’t “care”… before then all I cared about was myself… you can get through life just fine that way… I was doing fine… my life has always been good… can’t say life didn’t happen… good or bad… life happens… but overall I can’t say my life was bad… had someone I thought I loved more than myself… a child will test the limits of everything you think you know about yourself…

Turns out not only did I not know what love meant… I didn’t know what life was either… not sure I will ever know what life really is… not sure any of us are meant to understand it completely… with eyes open I learned that there are only two things in this world I can’t live without… air… earth… and water… are just fine… but they aren’t worth as much as we think without those around us… living isn’t about being alive… I guess is what I’m trying to say… got lost in the emotions in a good way…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

Chewing On Glass Presents: Bobby…

The man shakes as he speaks his words more transparent than his presence. His needs outweigh his wants by now, but it is all trivial in the end. We wanders from table to table on the outdoor patio. He wants someone to listen to him. “God is good,” I can hear him say from the next table over. He has a speech rambling in his head only the audience isn’t willing to listen. He is off to another table talking to himself as he goes along. Explaining his speech on deaf ears and intoxicated minds. Taking the appropriate amount of time with each thought, each word as though anything he has to say is important. A girl at the next table goes down the rabbit hole with him, but she soon comes up for air and walks away. So he moves on. He is a disciple of God he proclaims as he reaches my table. I inherit my new role in all of this with grace. Something is off about him and I don’t think it is the alcohol. Jesus he repeats. He is the disciple of Jesus not God. Though Jesus is God he explains. He seems confused as to what even he is saying as he says it, but I listen all the same. Who am I to turn away a fellow story teller? He engages with everyone at my table. More so than I have for the past few minutes. He takes a seat in the empty chair at our table. Uninvited but not pushed away. He found what he was looking for in us. An audience who can’t look away. He sets the scene, lays out the characters, and tells us his tale. A tale of heart break, a tale of pain. It is a story that is easy to judge after the fact, but you know that during it all there was, was pain. Love is fickle in that way. Intense, everlasting, all that there is, and after a time it is nothing at all. A mistake, a bad decision, a waste of time, but for some that time never ends even after the fact. Insert Bobby, insert God, and insert the reason he sits before us today. Drinking is not new to him. Drinking and science is what lead him here today, but like most people around these parts God showed him the way. A woman left, the woman left him he stresses with every little detail. He was sad so he drank. Tried to drink the pain away. He was successful for a moment in time. Only he tried to do something else that night, drive home. Illegal enough of an activity to call his actions stupid, irresponsible, dangerous, and yet we haven’t even gotten to all the details. Drinking plus heartbreak plus speed can only equal one thing to most of us. Lucky to make it out of the wreck alive if not destroyed. Lucky that no one else was hurt or anywhere near his selfish act. Bobby found something he didn’t know he was missing until then. Bobby found God or so his story goes. As he thanked him with a prayer between sips of beer. Didn’t thank science or the doctors. He didn’t thank the people around him that took care of him while he recovered from the horrible accident that left him with irreversible brain damage. No he thanked God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. He finishes his beer and gets up from the chair. Asks if we found Jesus? Before wandering off once again. In search of a new audience to hear the same speech repeating in his head.

This one is pretty dark… very different… and Bobby very much exists… I meet him for a brief moment… almost seven years ago… while going through my notes I found my notes on the evening… my friend at the table told me after he left… that this would be a good story… so I wrote some notes down… left it at that for almost a decade… one because I buried the notes… and two because I didn’t know how to approach the story…

It isn’t my style… especially back then… back then I had no style… but I knew that, that wasn’t the style I was going for… recently I had a change of heart… I found the notes and I set out to finish it… it isn’t long and it isn’t epic… but it is real… I don’t know if Bobby still walks the earth telling his tale… I hope so… but just in case… here it is…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

Chewing On Glass Presents… Beginning of All Things to End…

“Things went from bad to worse,” he says as they walk down the long corridor. “What do you mean?” One of his colleagues asks. “Most importantly they are being taken to the facility right now to insure there will be a future them,” he says ignoring the question all together. “Doesn’t matter there won’t be,” another colleague responds. They move quickly through the corridor making sure no one sees them. “Sure maybe not now but twenty or thirty years from now when they have figured it out. It will be the end of the world,” the leader lays out. They arrive at an unmarked door. Looking around he inserts his key card, “Quickly we don’t have much time. The cameras have already alerted them I’m sure.” The three of them enter the room. “We need to erase whatever we can,” the leader says. “What are we even really doing here?” One of them asks. They walk through the stacks of tanks. Each one containing what looks to be a fetus. “Trust me they won’t have cloning figured out by then. Cloning doesn’t work now and by the time it does it be two hundred or more years before it does. And even by then none of them will be relevant beyond history books,” a colleague states. “Exactly, we need to stop them now. These are all nothing more than failures. But the potential each container contains. This is where it all starts. This is where we have to make our stand,” the leader says. “Your fear of that future is irrelevant. Some other monster will take their place,” one of them states. They begin pulling electrical board after board as the tanks switch to back up power. “We will impact the next fifty years by our actions today. We fucked up already letting them go into hiding. Who knows exactly how much information they were able to collect behind our backs,” the leader says. “Doesn’t matter they won’t have us when all this is over. The others will find them and do their part. Same as before. This won’t be over but you’re right we can slow it down.”

The lights begin to flash as the backup systems trigger the disturbance. “We are in the final moments of our chance to do your part. Destroy whatever you can,” the leader orders. They split up and rush through the room pulling board after board. Sloppy they pull what they can as they hear the door open and the boots of their oppressors marching through. “Use extreme force,” they hear someone order before they hear the sound of bullets breaking glass. The sounds of screaming and death soon to follow. The floor is wet in more than just blood as the last one of the resistance takes their final breath. A solider walks over to their dying body. “If you do the devil’s work then you are,” a bullet to the head silences the room. “Sweep the room, recover the bodies, and report back,” the solider orders. The others do as they are told. Dragging the bodies of the dead to the center of the room. The sound of the door opening again fills the room. The sound of footsteps on glass follows. “Report,” a man in a white coat demands. “All deserters accounted for and terminated. Zero causalities on our side. They were unarmed. Damage unknown. Believed to be minimal,” the solider reports. “Good job. Could have been executed sooner, but good job none the less,” the man in the coat says. “Thank you sir,” the solider responds. “Now if we can figure out how they were able to bypass their programming?” The man in the white coat questions out loud.

Odd title… wonder if it is connected?… I’m sure it is… quick and easy story… a thought to link two ideas… is what it is… forever and a day to get it done… see you all again real soon…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents… Wait and See…

I’m startled awake confused as to where I am and where I should be. I can feel the bang of the door as much as I think I can hear it. “I’m going already. Give it a rest,” I shout but they don’t care. The door rattles with every strike. Must mean something to bang this damn long. I try to get up and at first it seems that I am having the hardest of times. Everything seems out of place in my brain as I. There’s no other way to describe what happens to me next. No way other than I rise up? A ghostly outline of my former self. Neither here nor there or anywhere to be exact. I watch over my lifeless shell. Who I used to be? Who I am now? Who I will be forever? Confusion doesn’t even begin to explain the feelings of everything that is happening. My door flies open. No more banging. 

The first emergency responder to rush into my tiny studio apartment seems as though he is caught between two places. Nervousness and excitement flashes across his face in a slow motion that plays out in rapid speed. His partner half a step behind him. Their heavy bags land with a thud next to my bed, next to me. What is left of me? One of them picks up the phone next to my vessel’s hand. Says a few words I can not fully hear or understand, and hangs up the phone. The other searches for a pulse. Finding nothing of course they begin chest compressions. The difference between life and this is only a second but I imagine every second counts at this point. I imagine what is left of my time counts for something when a life is on the line. Try as they might the only fight left is the fight they aren’t willing to let go. I’ve made my peace as I watch them try. As I watch the needle fall from my arm and onto the floor. I’ve made my peace I think though it would seem that I haven’t. A by stander to my own end and a shitty narrator to my new beginning.

 If God is real he is nothing more than a trickster. Proving a point that only the dead could understand. Even if everything feels like a dream or a shitty nightmare played out in my head. Is this real? Is this the high or something else? The two EMTs fight and fight to bring me back. I wonder why I didn’t do the same. Why do they care so much when I didn’t? I want to make them stop. Tell them thank you but I did this, and it is what I deserve. We die, I died the end. What’s really left to say? A lifeless corpse with shit in his veins. How else was this going to end? Is this the way I wanted it? Sure why not? Had to happen at some point or another. Death waits for no one or nothing. More so when you play with it like I have. This is what I deserve and they don’t deserve to watch it all fold out. Embracing my new beginning. Embracing what comes next it would appear that this was all only a warning. A second look at what it is that I have done. Something draws me back to my vessel. Tells me to lay back down. Not a thought or an idea the feeling is beyond my understanding to explain. I do what it is I feel I must. Maybe if I lie back down. Lay perfectly still the two parts will become whole once more? Nothing to lose at this point. I try to recreate the position my shell is in on the bed.

What comes next is nothing short of a rebirth. The feeling of waking up after a long slumber as I spring back to life. Gasping for air and for the first time in what feels like forever I feel it. I feel it all. The tears flow down my face as I look into their eyes. Euphoric at first and then nothing but pain. Startled and relieved I grab the collar of the EMT closest to me, “Thank you.” Thank you is all I have to say. Thank you for what however we will just have to wait and see.

So two months in… some of you may have noticed that the “horror writer”… isn’t writing a writing a whole lot of horror stories… in some ways I am… but if you had this thought then you are correct… I’ve been experimenting as much as I can lately… stretching this idea of horror beyond serial killers and ghost… in truth the likeliness of any of us running into a serial killer or ghost is extremely low… statistically possible but very unlikely… the idea that we might die at any moment… some government agency or entity is changing the course of history… a broken heart snapped in half by our own hands… or in this case drug overdose… seem a little more likely… (Side note… I don’t believe in ghosts… but I don’t have any proof that they don’t exist…)

Any way… I’m sure I will sneak a crazy psychopath in here eventually… or maybe I already have?…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents… Just Breathe…

It all shatters right there in front of me. Glass, steel, two moving objects going at what feels like a thousand miles an hour. Was it? Is that how it really was? Everything so slow a miss perception of time and place. Memories shifting in and out of place. Two thoughts as though they don’t exist. Two people caught in time. There was more than two? I wasn’t driving was I? No, I was standing. Standing still as if I wasn’t even there. I no longer was there was I? I disappeared somewhere in myself. Took myself right out of there. Right out of my own thoughts and feelings. But I remember the glass.

It bounced off my face but I didn’t feel its pain. The screams all around me with no sound. Faces moving in panic, mouths open in horror, mouths open without any sound. The smell of tires and burning engines but I wasn’t even there. Where was I? Where was I standing motionless? The corner of sixth and Wellington. The burning sensation? The coffee in my hand. Two cream, less sugar. I need less sugar in my diet. Too much sugar in the coffee. Tasted too sweet, my last thoughts before the flood. The last real thought before everything took over. 

People all around me. Fingers bloody, I reach out for those in front of me. Was I crying? The ground hard against my side. Everything hard to remember. Everything a blur of thoughts and emotions. Was I sad? I was very sad. No one to go home to. Family out of town and I’m stuck here working. Lonely, am I alone now? Everything is so dark. Can’t tell if I am seeing or dreaming. The merger did it go through? Important business and I’m late, but I stopped for coffee anyway. So tired, so lonely without them. They went on holiday to see our extended family. Parents, grandparents, brothers, and sisters. Family I find missing more now than ever.

Out of town. Where out of town? The roses, Fedele’s roses always smelled the sweetest. The smell of innocence and purity on my hands as I hold the flowers. Was this real? Am I there now? No, I don’t know. I see them now the flowers, but all I can smell is engines. The smell of gasoline. I taste it on my tongue. Bitter like dirty metal, hot. Were they hot? Where am I if I’m not there? Screeching tires, metal collapsing, and my ears still ringing. My ears still buzzing with that hum. Am I alive or am I dead? 

Is death just nothingness or am I only in between? So many questions and no one to answer. So cold like saline going in. Washes over me, that time I was sick. Food poisoning, bad chicken, not enough fluids in me. Am I bleeding? Why can’t I breathe? Try to breathe. Gasping but it’s not working. Inhaling but nothing is happening. A rush of pain. Nerves on end. Nerves on fire. My eyes open, flood of light, emotions. “Just breathe,” the voice says. “Just breathe.” But I can’t. 

I often thinking of dying… unsure if that is normal… might be… is for me… though unlike what I write about dying… is not how I think about dying… often when I think about dying… I don’t think about anything other than the nothingness of it all… the idea that I can do nothing… say nothing… only watch as everything around me moves on…

The thought tortures me… burdened by the idea that it just won’t shut off… that somehow after death everything keeps going… bothers me… I want the world to keep going… I’m not that selfish… I just don’t want to have to watch it happen without me… without all the things I want to do before I die… left unfinished… to watch my daughter grow up… start a family… live her life… and all I can do is watch… at the very same time… the flip of the coin… I don’t want to think about how I will never see any of that… that it will all just end… that was me… and lets move on…

Death above all things… is nothing that anyone can avoid… I just wish I could stop thinking about it… fearing it… but then again… I’d be out of a career if I did… no one ever said I wasn’t complicated…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents: A Story Never Told…

“What the hell are you even doing up at this hour?” A voice asks with a yawn. I bang on the door harder and harder. “Ain’t no one want to see you in there. Hell I see you and I don’t even want to,” the homeless man moans. “Shut up you stupid vagrant. As a matter of fact someone in there really does want to see me,” I inform him. “Oh, really? That why you have been out here for a better part of an hour messing up my sleep? The only fact I see around here is that no one wants your ass around. So why don’t you go ahead and give it a rest so I can get some rest. Got an early morning. I’m a busy man,” the homeless man mumbles that last bit but I still here him through it all. I stop banging on the door and I’m ready to bang on something else. I raise my fists, “One more word old man and I’ll see to it that you get plenty of rest.” The homeless man giggles. He giggles at me. I can feel my anger and frustration rising. “Don’t go starting trouble when troubles already found you. Take my advice. I didn’t end up here by design,” the man preaches. I start to take the steps down to his garbage bed when a familiar sweet voice takes a hold. “He’s right you know?” Her voice cutting through the commotion. All I wanted from her was an acknowledgement that I was even there. “I’ll ring you in. I guess we need to talk,” she says from the second floor window. I turn back towards the door. “Are you sure Miss Kelly?” The vagrant asks. “Of course she is sure,” I snap at the man. “There you go starting trouble again. I ain’t afraid of you. Honestly I ain’t got nothing left to lose,” the homeless man smiles a toothless grin before putting up his fists. “Yes, I’m sure Frank, but if I change my mind.” “I’ll be right here miss Kelly,” Frank finishes for her. She smiles and moves away from the window. Moments later I hear the sound of the door buzzing and I head inside. Frank lies back down on his makeshift bed, “Can’t get no peace and quiet. Thoughts this was a good neighborhood. God damn kids with their drama.”

I ascend the stairs rapidly. A flight of stairs in an instant. There is much to say and who knows how long to say it. The door is cracked and waiting for me when I get there. I take in a large breath. Be cool Miles. Be cool I tell myself one more time before knocking on the door. She is waiting just on the other side as I enter. “May I ask what is so important you have to disturb me and the whole neighborhood at 3 am?” She starts right at the door way. There are so many things that I want to say. All at once, but only one thing I should say. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing to come out. “Sorry for what? What you did or disturbing everyone? Because only one of those things can be fixed with an, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I’m here so late disturbing you and everyone else. I’m sorry for what I did earlier. I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I say searching for my words. “Yes, you should be,” she informs me watching my reaction. “Your sorry has come too late I’m afraid. They are useless at this point and are no longer any good here,” she pauses for a moment to let it sink in her eyes very different from all the other times. “Kelly please,” I interrupt. “Kelly please what? Forgive you again and again? Damnit Miles you can’t just keep messing up and thinking I will forgive you later for it. You can only play a song so many times before it becomes background noise,” her eyes like fire. I step closer to her. I let her speak her mind and now I have to try the one move I have left. If I can get her in my arms I know she will change her mind. I’m greeted by an open hand on my chest, “Not this time Miles. We are done,” she says sternly. “This is the last time I swear,” I reach for the hand on my chest. She quickly moves it away before I can even touch her one last time. “You said that two times ago and every time before. Let me say this so you understand. I am done and this is the last time I am going to tell you,” she locks eyes with me. “But?” I try to say. I’m at a loss of words. “It’s time for you to leave and I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” she commands with her finger extended towards the stairs. I look her in the eyes one last time before doing as I was told. There comes a time in any battle where winning is losing either way so there is only one thing to do. I turn and walk my new path. I hear the door close behind me and the door’s lock click over as I reach the stairs. “I didn’t mean it,” I say to an empty audience. From behind the door she breathes a heavy, “I know,” before a tear falls to the ground.

I leave the apartment building at the slowest speed. Lost in thought. What have I done this time? What have I given up for nothing? Questions I only have excuses for but no answers. I pass by the vagrant known only as Frank. “Out in your ass I see. You ain’t the only one. Join the club as they say,” he lets out a small laugh. The street goes silent as I walk down the block. A coldness washes over me. Where I am off too. I really don’t know.

What a love story?… am I in the right place?… sure are… a bit different from what I normally write… minus the strong woman character… the darkness… and the absences of a story… this was very much an experiment piece… one where I tried to write about emotions with no real context… oddly enough this one was written in third person perspective and I switched it… Actual Meaning started out in first person and I switched to third… proof that not every story starts and ends the way you think it will…

Everything goes through a couple of drafts… I won’t bore you with all the changes and story shifts… this story did take more time… way more time then it should have… a couple of years actually… yeah you read that right… let me get this straight… I didn’t obsess over this story for years… I wrote it and filed it away… I write or start writing things all the time… come back later and rewrite the whole thing… then file it away again… sometimes the ideas come and other times they are nothing more than a thought… that all sounds confusing… see a thought…

I spend different time on different things… these final thoughts at the end… a rambling commentary of what I am thinking right here and now… the stories take on different layers as I drag myself through life… I believe that is the point I am trying to make… but I barely know what the hell I am thinking at any given moment… dragging my corpse on…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents: Actual Meaning

“I think I lost it,” he exhales. “Lost what?” She asks without facing him. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning,” he stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?” She asks as if she doesn’t care. “Because I let it rot itself out. I let it go to shit for no reason. Now it festers there with everything that I try to say. Every idea, every thought slowly rotting away at me with nothing to say,” he tries to explain. “Well can’t you get it back if it is right there. Allow yourself time to heal so to speak?” She asks almost robotically, almost of she is on rails with her lack of concern. “No, I can’t because in its absence life got in the way. My brain got in the way. Spread the infection deeper and deeper. Everything, what little I once had is now gone. I am lost in my own empathy with nowhere to go. It is as though my life has become one of my stories. It has become a nightmare,” he rationalizes starring deeper into the nothing. She turns to him breaking his concentration, “The answer is simple then.” He stares into her eyes. Where have I seen those eyes before? “Oh really and what’s that?” He asks while he wonders about something else. She doesn’t break eye contact as she speaks. “Why don’t you simply wake up?” She asks in the most serious of tones.

“Jesus Alan, what’s with the screaming?” A woman he has never seen shouts at him. The words woke him without ever feeling asleep. Confused on how or what is happening he looks around him. “Right here asshole. You’ve only been in a coma for three weeks it’s not like it was a lifetime,” she barks at him. They are sitting in what he assumes is her office. She is dressed in a business suit as she moves papers around on her desk. The room fills very high up and the sun is pouring through the windows. Is this my editor? He wonders. She snaps her fingers breaking his concentration. Where have I seen those eyes before? He wonders. There is a glass of water on the desk. He reaches for the glass but he doesn’t understand why. Everything feels played out. Almost rehearsed. He watches his arm move in slow motion to pick up the glass. The glass feels almost unreal in his hand. The water doesn’t move as he lifts up the glass. It doesn’t sweat. It doesn’t feel like anything. It is almost as if the glass is empty and full at the same time. The stranger slaps his hand and the glass falls to the floor. The glass doesn’t shatter and it doesn’t spill. “Don’t drink that your body isn’t ready. As for who I am and how you got here. Well that’s simple,” she smiles. “It is?” He asks confused. She snaps again. “You want the longer version or the short version? She asks. He thinks over what she is asking. Watching the glass sit perfectly still on its side. “Long I guess. There’s something wrong with your,” he tries to get out but she cuts him off. She speaks in rapid tones of noises and what seem like made up words. He watches as her face mouths the words and the light in the room goes from day to night and back to day when she stops suddenly. She exhales a long breath.

“Basically you tried to kill yourself and I’m you only I’m the female you and even then I’m just made up pieces of all the females you have wanted or dreamed of being with,” she sums up. “All the women? Where the hell am I?” He asks as layer upon layer of confusion sets in. “Check it out. Two different people,” she says ignoring his questioning of this reality. She leans her body over the desk so he can get a better look of her face. “Two different people,” she moves her head side to side. “Well really more like twenty, but face wise two. Pretty cool huh?” She asks without asking. He sits there silently studying her face. Two very different people he thinks. “Well I think it is cool. I can tell you have no idea what is happening, but do we really have to be stuck in this office all day? We can really go anywhere we want and yet we are here?” She asks. “I don’t understand what is going on,” is all he can say. She snaps her fingers and the room changes in a blink of an eye. They are on a beach. Endless sand, but no water. Only the sound of the waves crashing around them. Their clothes have changed and she notices him staring at her. “Yeah this breast situation isn’t ideal. To be honest it is a tad bit awkward,” she moves her chest closer so he can see in an innocently suggestive manner. One breast is very much bigger than the other one. “One double D and the other an A. Yeah you are seeing that in real time. Do you have an idea how difficult it is to find a bra in these dimensions? Let alone what it is like on a date? Well it is a lot like it is now,” she sighs. “No, I’m sorry but I created you?” He seems to be questioning himself more than asking. She looks side to side as if to make sure no one is around. Only adding to his confusion. “Yeah, you did. Do you see anyone else around?” She asks. “How could I have done this?” He asks. “What? Create everything around us or mess up my breasts? Flip of the coin really,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m having a really hard time processing all of this,” he states. “I know I can feel it,” she says in a worried tone. “You need to calm down. Close your eyes and think of something else. Whatever you want.” He does as he is told. Closing his eyes and trying to relax. Relax in the darkness of his mind. “Sweet you fixed my breasts. Thank you, thank you,” she exclaims with glee. He opens his eyes and the bright sun blinds him at first. He winces and has he does clouds begin to form in the sky. Bringing down the intensity of the light until he is comfortable. “Is this heaven?” He asks with a smile. “This? No, fuck no. What made you think this was heaven?” She asks. “Well I control everything seems to be the obvious answer,” he states. She sighs, “Well first off I don’t know much more than anything than you know as I am you. But last we knew or you knew or whatever. God controls heaven and you aren’t God so, one could easily assume based on what you do and don’t know that this is in fact not heaven. Make sense?” She asks. He shakes his head, “No, not even a little bit.” She shrugs her shoulders. “That’s it? That’s your answer?” He asks. “Pretty much,” she states openly. “So I’m not in heaven. I’m just in a shoulder shrug. Awesome makes sense,” he says. “You are focusing way too much on things that don’t matter. This is literally nothing. Physically it is nothing. It feels like something, the sand, but it is all nothing,” she states. He turns to look around him. Watching as he changes his surroundings in an instant with only a thought. Watches as towering trees take over the sky. The sound of the waves still crashing in the background.

“Why am I here instead of someplace else?” He asks her. “Because from what I know you were kind of an asshole and even you have admit a tad bit selfish,” she answers her voice coming from behind him. “I’m not an asshole and I’m definitely not selfish,” he snaps back. “Oh really? You’ve been here maybe, well you’ve been here a long time, but you’ve only been here in this part of nothing for five minutes, and when you decided to fix my breasts you went with two D’s rather than two A’s. Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t. You chose to keep me as a woman. Asshole in my book,” she tells him. “I’m not an asshole okay?” He turns to face her only to find her completely naked and starring back at him. “I guess you aren’t selfish either?” She asks as though nothing has changed. “You tried to kill yourself and left everyone behind to shift through the mountain of shit you left behind. No one asked for that. No one wanted that, and yet here we are,” she states. She sits down on the newly formed grass that has appeared before them, “I’m going to let you think about that for a moment.” She sits with herself exposed pulling the blades of grass by her feet one by one as he watches her. In an instant she is fully clothed, “I’m not an asshole and you can’t talk to me like that.” She doesn’t even bother to look up at him. “Like a broken record this one. At least you haven’t tried to touch me this time,” she says under her breath. “And if you aren’t then why do you think you have been here so long?” She confronts him holding up the blades of grass in the form of a crown. “You are in control of this and all of this, and still you have no idea what is going on?” She stands up and all the blades of grass scatter across the ground. “I don’t know,” he shouts in frustration. “I wake up in an office, then I’m on a beach, and now I’m in a massive forest with you every step of the way. I don’t know what is going on,” he screams as the world around him shakes. “They said, well you said, well they mentioned,” she says as though she can not think. “They said that you were like a TV constantly flipping between channels,” she finally gets out. “Do you honestly believe that made any sense or somehow answered a single question in my head?” He snaps back. “Yep I do because like I said I am you so, if I think it or say it, it is because you already believe it. None of this is new. We’ve had this conversation a hundred, a hundred and fifty times, but it ends the same every time. Think about what you were thinking about before you woke up,” she touches his face gently tracing the outline.

“I think I lost it,” he says to her. “Lost what?” She asks from behind a desk. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning.” He stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?”

I hope you enjoyed this story… The first one of this cycle… tried to come out strong… never know how anything will turn out until it posts… Chewing On Glass will be presenting a wide variety of stories this cycle… trying to express the wide spectrum of emotions that I am made of… also trying a few things out… trying to get better at all of this… Want to get better at third person perspective… not my go to style… As with trying anything new… there is a lot of trepidation… but don’t worry… things will always be dark… it is where I live after all… can shed your skin over and over… but you can never shed where you are from…

So what the fuck was this even about?… with the dark theme of suicide… trippy ass locations that don’t make any sense… (If you liked this aspect of the story… wait until I release my next short story book… there is a story in there that takes this theme to the max…)… This story was actually not about any of those things… well it was on the surface… the real theme and inspiration for this story was writers block…

This story was about the annoyance of trying to write something over and over for it to only turn out to be shit… the ups and down of how our brains work… feeling trapped yet knowing you have all the tools to escape… wanting to smash your head into a wall to get the ideas out… only to know that it would do nothing in the end… it was a tricky story to write without giving away all the cards… so in the absence of thought and the frustration of writing nothing of actual meaning… I came up with this story…

As usual my favorite character is the woman… I love her care free… give no fucks… this is how it is attitude… writing bad ass… strong women are my favorite characters to write… I love the idea that in this story… for me at least… that there is this duality of her… she is the one in control… yet has no control at all… a pawn and the ruler of the kingdom… a guide and the true representation of it all… “Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t”… That line to me… was a turning point in the story where the main character begins to really question everything beyond the surface… there are moments about questioning everything really because that is what the story is all about… questioning ones thoughts and trying to find actual meaning behind nothing at all…

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