Faded Memory

With a shaking hand, he read from the blood-stained page.
---

My Dearest...One,

I am sitting alone atop a peak watching what will be my final sundown. It is a beautiful place. The air is crisp and the blues, violets, reds and oranges are more vivid than I imagined possible.

What is not vivid is my memory of you. Your face fades in my mind and I cannot accept such a thing. I cannot fathom it.

My heart still aches for you. The shame of my failing memory will go onto the list of all the shames I brought upon myself when it came to you. But I will never shame another.

You, as I once said, are the last I will ever love. To fall for another would be folly. You are the one I want to hold onto, but cannot. You are the one I want to laugh with, but will weep over. You  are the one I want to grow old with, but instead...I will not grow old. Or at least, not much older than I was when you would jokingly call me your old man. And I do feel old.

The light is beginning to fade from the day now. Soon it will fade from my eyes and I will enter an eternal night. One from which I will suffer no dreams. No dreams that I will wake up from and forget you. All over. Again.

Once you asked me if I needed everyone to like me, or if you were enough. I know how to answer that now. Yes, I wanted others, everyone, to like me. But you were the only one I ever wanted to love me. You were enough, but I was never able to make that clear to you. Just as I can no longer close my eyes and see your beautiful face clearly. Yet another of my failures.

I don't know if you'll read this. I'm putting it here in the hopes that you won't, but will understand why I've gone away if you do. I know this isn't something you would have expected. Not even from me.

I love you, always. And if that love be unrequited, then I would no longer breathe the air, for it has become stale to me. I would no longer bathe in the sunlight, for it chills me with memories of holding your warmth in my arms. I will no longer look upon the stars, for they would ever remind me of your eyes.

Cheese. I know. And you used to love that about me. But now, what is there to love?

Nothing. I'm empty now. What you knew, loved is gone.

Goodbye my dearest. You were a treasure, and I lost you. Perhaps on the other side...

Perhaps.

---

Alex breathed a gentle sigh as he finished reading the letter. He took his time crumpling it up, feeling the changes in the texture as the paper gave way. He faltered slightly, nearly falling.

He eased down to his knees. His strength was fading. Looking over at Jack, he knew it was for the best. He had been losing control and it was only a matter of time.

Now that the time had come, Alex accepted it, though not with resignation. It was better this way.

Last Laugh

"I can feel it coming, Alex. I can feel the end."

Jack's dead gaze was leveled on his old friend. There was no laughter in his eyes, no smile. There was nothing.

"Well, bud," said Alex. "What are we going to do about that?"

This smile that finally crossed Jack's face was not filled with mirth. For the first time, Alex felt uncomfortable around his friend.

"What to do, indeed," Jack replied.

A peel of laughter issued from his lips, and Alex felt his blood go cold. He'd known he was losing control of the situation. But he hadn't suspected he'd lost it to this degree.

What to do, indeed.

In the Evening Air

His swift feet, silent in the night.

His adversary roars out in  fright.

The pulsing blood fuels his inner fire,

And soon slakes the thirst of the old vampire.

Mary was a waitress at Joe's Diner. She was a pretty girl and wore little makeup. She had sandy blonde hair, large green eyes and full, red lips. Her tips always added up nicely at the end of the day, due to the large number of gentleman that admired her looks. She was kind and always had a smile for them, which didn't hurt.

Tonight was no different where tips were concerned. The diner had closed an hour ago. After counting her cash and helping Joe do some cleaning, she headed out the door.

There was a slight chill in the air, and she hugged her warm coat contentedly. She wasn't concerned about the cold, even enjoyed it. And her apartment was only about 6 blocks away. It was a nice, clear night. The stars were shining and the moon was full. She gazed at them for a moment, smiled, and began the trek home.

She had been strolling along, enjoying the evening air, for about a block. As she neared 2nd and Main, she noticed a man standing there, looking at his cell phone and waiting for the light. It seemed odd to her because in this small town, at this late hour, Main Street was deserted.

Maybe he is lost and checking out a map on his phone, she thought. Ever friendly, she decided to say hello to this stranger and see if he needed directions.

He turned as she approached. His face was friendly, with sharp features. His hair was dark, his eyes a golden brown that seemed to shine in what little light there was. He was well tanned. He smiled at her.

"Why hello there," said the stranger.

"Hi," said Mary. "I'm sorry if I startled you, but you looked like you might be lost."

He looked into her eyes, and at that moment, time seemed to stop for Mary. She didn't know how long she stared into the depths of his eyes, but at eventually, time caught up. The stranger was still smiling, and his light chuckle brought her out of her trance.

"Is it that obvious?"

He stepped toward her, hand extended. She took it and gave him a firm handshake. His hand was very cold. It didn't seem odd to her, given the weather.

"My name is Jack," he said softly. His voice was smooth, relaxing. Already Mary felt like she could listen to that voice for the rest of her life and never get tired of it. She giggled at her silly, school girl thought.

"Mary," she said. She had thought to release his hand, but he held on.

The stranger continued to smile.

"Mary," he sighed. "A classic name to match your classic good looks."

She blushed at this. She felt oddly uncomfortable. However, it was because she didn't feel more uncomfortable than she did. It was strange.

"My dear, I must admit to you a slight fib." He place his other hand upon hers, gently brushed his finger over her smooth white skin. "I am not lost. I was waiting."

He paused.

"For you."

Mary was confused. Why would he be waiting for her?  She asked him this.

"Because I owe a debt to you. Rather, I owe a debt to a man by the name of William, whom I knew as a boy."

A spark recognition in her mind. Her father's name was William. But there was no way Jack could have known him, not as a boy anyway.

"My dad is 53. You look to be 30 at most. When did you meet him?"

"I knew him when he was 13 years old. He rescued me."

This was impossible, but Mary was intrigued.

"He...rescued you? How is that possible? You wouldn't even have been born yet."

"On the contrary," said Jack. "In fact, I was one of his teachers."

Her mind reeled at this. Was Jack crazy? If so, then why, even now, did she feel safe around him?

"And he rescued me by not giving up my secret. A secret that he still maintains to this very day."

"And what secret is that," she asked. Suddenly aware that her hand was still in his, she gave it a slight pull. He released it immediately.

"Sorry," he said. "Yes, my secret. One that he came upon when playing in a field near his old home."

There was a noise in the distance then, the bang of a garbage can perhaps. Mary began to turn toward it.

"No," said Jack. "Don't look. Please."

Again he took up her hand.

"Listen, I'll keep this short. Your father came to know my secret when he was 13. I on the otherhand, was 260."

Mary scoffed. "What?"

"I don't have time to explain. But I have been hunting a creature that has, in turn, been hunting you."

He looked over her shoulder. In the distance he saw a large creature silhoutted under a street light. It was stalking toward them.

"It has been sniffing you out for about a week now. Perhaps you recall a gentleman that you met recently? One who has been coming to your diner everyday?"

Mary immediately knew who he was talking about. There was a man, new in town. He had been coming into the diner when she worked. He was good looking enough, but the way he had looked at her was disquieting. Like he had been sizing up a meal. She had asked about him, but no one knew who he was.

Jack took her quiet as confirmation.

"He is coming for you now. I swore to your father that I would pay him back for protecting me. I am doing that tonight."

A sudden howl pierced the evening air. It sent a shiver down Mary's spine and formed goosebumps on her skin.

"Mary." Jack's voice drew her attention immediately. He was looking into her eyes once again. "I want you to just keep walking. Keep walking and don't look back. You have my word that you will get home safely.
Promise me that you won't look back."

Mary was unsure. She was scared now, but felt comfort in Jack's gaze.

"Alright," she said. "I won't look back."

Jack stepped aside, holding out his arm to usher her on.

"Be quick, my dear."

She began to walk. She did not look back, even when she heard the roar, even when she heard the sounds of struggle. She heard Jack's voice, powerful and commanding. She heard the reply, gutteral. Animal. Beastly. And as the distance increased, she heard one last sound. The sound of something, or someone, dying.

She heard all of this, but she did not look back.

I guess it's something in the way I see the world now. Where before I only saw a tree, I now see a living being that was there before me and will, likely, be there when I'm gone. I wonder what it would say if it could talk, the stories it could tell. I agree with something Edward Abbey said about a juniper. He said that you could write a whole book about a juniper tree. Not the species itself, but about just one tree. Not sure if this makes sense, but it does to me. 

I also think that my love of nature has aided me in becoming a more caring and accepting person in general. While I still have a way to go, there is something inspiring to me about the solemnity of a mountian, the giggling burble of a country stream, or the soft whisper of wind in the trees. They make me think of how much things change, and yet stay the same. And how we can can get through it all. Persevere.

For example, we pollute the world with all kinds of filth. Yet the mountain still stands; only a microcosm of cataclysm, such as high explosives, can really make them move. That, or a millennium of wind and rain; more than any of us will see in our short time here. And even though we put things into the water that should make the earth weep, the brook still babbles, the stream still giggles; and in time, it WILL clean itself. Even if we managed to kill off our entire race, the natural world would recover and thrive again. It would take time, sure. But it would do it. It's something we can't truly fathom, only allude to. 

And where do I fit in with all of this? Who am I to suppose that I can make any sort of impact? I look at those beautiful mountains, let those streams cool and tickle my toes, and listen to the murmur of the leaves. They don't make an impact on everyone, but they do make an impact. They do make a difference. 

Seeing this helps me realize that I don't have to fit in. I don't have to make an impact. I just have to be me, and love everything that that entails. That by simply being I can, to some place or someone, make a difference. I may never meet this person, or I may only interact with them in passing. I may never know. But I don't need to. 

Me

She said she loved me and my bold dreams
And how I looked at life like it was more than it seems
She loved the ways that my heart was loving and kind
The way that I tried to keep the good things in mind.

She said she loved how much help I tried to give
And how I went out of my way to make it easy for folks to live
And how for strangers there was always a smile on my face
But then she said that something just seemed out of place.

She said that I did all those things for everyone
But not for her, and that I wasn't the one.
She said that she loved me, and yeah, I know it was true
But "You give your heart to them, and I get none of that from you."

And then we were through.