The wind that howls

This was just a random experimental writing I wrote some time ago. It is complete. For now.
~K

~~~

I'm standing in the living room of a small, one roomed log cabin. It's walls are rounded with large wood knots in them. The wood is smooth, cool to the touch and well worn. The lighting is dark, with the exception of a decent fire going in the fireplace, there are no lights. Across the room I can make out the outline of a bed against the wall, with what appears to be a red quilt covering it. At first because it's so dark in the room, I think perhaps there are no windows. However as I turn around to face the door, I realize there are two small windows on either side. They're laden with snow, so it is difficult to see out and only adds to the darkness of the interior.

There is a massive snowstorm going on outside, and the wind is whipping and wailing around the exterior of the cabin. I reach for the door nob which is freezing under my grasp and open the door. I'm expecting someone. I stick my head out into the storm; and even though it is getting close to dark; the snow is blinding. The wailing wind plays a morose tune as it howls. I am concerned, the person I am waiting for has not yet arrived. And they should have...a while ago.

I manage to get the door shut but not without a fight. I'm pushing hard against the door...the wind pushing back just as forcefully. I hear it latch, the lock catches and I relax leaning against the door.

I sit in the dark on the couch by the fire now...warming myself. I hold a mug in my hand, tracing the lip of the mug with lazy circles with my fingertip. I am completely lost in the fire. It crackles, pops and sizzles and I am mesmerized by the flames dance. I slowly move the mug ascloseasthis to my lips but do not drink, my breath causes a ripple effect on the liquid. I can see my breath or perhaps it is the steam from my drink as I break from my reverie.

I sigh heavily. I furrow my brow. 'He should be here by now' I think to myself. Until that moment, I'm unaware that it is a "he" that I've been expecting. Why isn't he here yet? Is he lost in the snow? I grow even more concerned, or more so than I already am. I sigh again.

I'm fidgeting now. Tapping my foot, spinning my ring and chewing on the inside of my cheek. I lean back on the couch momentarily and twirl my hair in my fingertips as the flame does it's seductive dance again trying to captivate my attention. It doesn't work. I stand up once more and attempt to look out the window. It is dark as pitch out now, and yet I think I see movement. My pulse quickens. Is he here? Finally?

I move to the door quickly and open it. A dark shadow; only lit by the fire from behind me; darkens my doorstep.

His back is to the door. The collar of his jacket is up to give him some protection from the elements. He is covered in snow. His dark, thick wool coat is white with snow. The wind blows wildly continuing it's tune of morose, mournful moans. A whole and whistle follow adding their input to the durge-like sound.

Finally he turns around to face me. The snow in his hair begins to melt, making his hair wet, it drips down his face as he smiles at me. Snow blows into the cabin from outside. I am captivated by his smile. And I; like the snow that has gotten too close to the flame; melt.

"City"

Work in progress...

~K

~~~

I walked the streets of the city. The night was cold, the wind brisk and the air was crisp and clean. I could see my breath in the air heating the area around my head as I walked. I felt my boots crunch down on the snowy sidewalk as I trudged on.


Pulling the collar up and my headphones off from around my neck I pressed play. The sounds of Sammy Hagar and Eddie Van Halen rang in my ears. "Right Now" was all that seemed to matter to them and that was the resounding enforcement they tried to instil on me. But I didn't believe them, for all their persuasion I wasn't swayed. Great song though. I had always looked to the future. I had my sights set forward, not in the past or the current. "Ever the day dreamer" my Mother had always said "Big dreams. You'll go far." I didn't feel like I'd gone anywhere though. Not really, not after today's events.


I heard laughter; my eyes darted up from the ground as a couple stumbled out of the upscale nightclub onto the sidewalk. She was laughing one of those annoying laughs...fake and not attractive. Facially of course, she could launch a thousand ships. She could be a trophy wife to someone, but that was about it.


I trudged on to my final destination. Malley's Pub. It was actually "O'Malley's Pub" but the "O" had been burnt out for as long as I'd been going to the shithole and no one had bothered to fix it. The bar was a run down near condemned joint; and was owned by some Pakistani who looked no more Irish than I did. But that's the way things are I guess. The world was full of false illusions. Fake fronts. No one was ever what he or she seemed.... including me. I walked inside, the familial stench of cigarette smoke, sweat, booze and piss greeted my nostrils.


"Evening..." Aamir greeted me with a nod pouring me a shot into a dirty shot glass.


I nodded in kind and picked up the shot off the bar. I wasn't in the mood for exchanging pleasantries. I wasn't there for tea after all. I wandered back to my normal spot, passing by Trixie the 65 year old prostitute who wore too much make up, not enough clothing and sagged in all the places you'd expect an over used whore to sag.
I passed by Pete who as an ex cop and Vietnam vet who was sprawled out in his usual manner on his table, cigarette in full burn, glass of whiskey in his grasp and drool on the table. That was the only way I knew he was still alive, that and the occasional ground rumbling snore and gaseous stench that would emit from him.

I sat in the corner and started up at the 1970's tv set hanging precariously that faced me. It was old, probably should have been thrown out long ago and yet still ran. Aside from the occasional flip that required a sharp, hard slam to the side of the box...it worked fine for what it was used for.


I lit a cigarette. I didn't usually smoke, only when I was stressed, pissed off or really drunk. Which seemed a lot lately...and tonight I definitely fell under one of those categories. I exhaled the smoke, closing my eyes for a moment and tried to shake the day's events from my minds eye. It didn't work. I didn't expect it to. Not really. But it sure would have been nice.


"Hey Sugar..." Trixie finally noticed me sitting in the corner "Looking for a date?" she 'teased' sloppily circling her tongue around her well-smeared lipstick lips.


More repulsed than anything, I shook my head and politely declined as I always did when she began her nightly routine and drew my gaze back to the television set that was now flipping incessantly. I sighed, par for the course tonight. I'd have to get up if I wanted to watch the game or what was left of it. Give it a hell of a slam and hope that it didn't kill the tv and that it didn't fall from it's position. Downing my shot, I stood as the rye burned its way down my throat and into my stomach. I slammed the palm of my hand into the side of the box and watched the television right itself. Aamir slid my bottle down the bar to me, nodded his thanks and returned to his dog-eared book. He was a man of few words I could respect that. Grabbing the bottle by the neck I casually strolled back to my seat sat down and poured myself what was sure to be the first of many shots.


I nursed my second and third shots. While I had a most unexpected and 'eventful' day, and while someone else may get completely shitfaced at the days turn of events...I decided it best to keep my wits about me. After all who else could say they'd landed a multimillion dollar deal, lost a multimillion dollar deal, accidentally pushed a young woman in front of an on-coming subway train killing her instantly and because of the fact that she was a Russian Mafia Princess now having the Russian mafia after them? Not me. Not when I woke up this morning anyway. And now blood was all over my hands...and the rest of me. Metaphorically speaking anyway. And if the Russian Mafia had their way, literally as well.

The Man Behind the Mirror

This is a work in progress...

~K

~~~


 She stared out her Park Avenue window and smiled. A breeze drifted in as well as the sounds from the street below. The sound and the pulse of the city...her city, her home echoed in her ears and her pulse beat right along with it.

 The phone rang, she knew before she even picked it up that it was George the lobby concierge asking if it was all right if he allow the delivery up to her apartment. Of course it was, she had been eagerly awaiting this delivery for days now.
 “Where do you want it?”
 “Is that the mirror?” she asked excitedly knowing full well it was
 “Yes Ms. Farrell…it’s heavy too.” He grunted
 “In the bedroom, please. And thank you.” She added
 “No problem Ms. Farrell. You’s da boss!” he smiled wheeling the dolly towards her bedroom
 She followed him into the bedroom “Yes…just there.” She gestured. She’d been captivated by the mirror from the moment she’d seen it in the antique shop. There was something about it that spoke to her.  She had to have it.

 He gently slid it from the dolly into place, cut the twin and removed the canvas tarp. “Wow…she’s a beauty Ms. F!”
 “I couldn’t agree more Ralph.” She said wistfully running her fingers over the cool dark carved mahogany.  “How much do I owe you?” she said realizing he was standing there.
“Aww shucks Ms. F…you don’t owe me! You know I always loves deliverin stuff to yous.” He said blushing, his thick Brooklyn accent even more pronounced.
 “No, no. You work hard” she held him out some money. “Please…I insist.”
  He nodded and took her generous gift.
 “I can trust you Ralph. You can’t say that about everyone now a day. You’re a good man.”
 He nodded again and continued blushing “Thank you Ms. F.”

 “No…thank you…and please call me Heather.” She said glancing in the mirror one last time as they exited the room.

***

  She lay in the bathtub with her headphones on, eyes closed listening to the dulcet melodies of Duran Duran her all time favourite musical group. The lead singer; Simon LeBon; was posing the questions “Who do you need? Who do you love, when you Come Undone?” These questions rang in her ears. She hummed along with the song, bobbing her head in time with the music, relaxing in the warmth of the water when suddenly she felt as if she were being watched. She opened her eyes quickly removing her headphones.
  “Hello?” she called out to no reply.
 She stood out of the tub, grabbing her housecoat and wrapped it around herself.
“Hello?” she said again with a little bit of trepidation in her voice
She picked up the phone off the bedside table and turning on the lamp to dimly light the room. She took a few steps to peer down the hall toward the front door when she kicked something soft. Heather jumped back startled, phone at the ready. Glancing down she saw a red ball poking out from under her bed where it had rolled.
 Confused, she picked it up and looked at it. Maybe it was one of Arcadia’s toys, although Heather didn’t recall buying a ball that looked like that. It seemed old, dated somehow.
 “Cady?” she called for her large English sheepdog who usually wasn’t far…but heard nothing.  “Arcadia?”  She called again. Arcadia whimpered softly. She spied her tucked beside the large armour in the corner. “Cady come here you silly pup…what’s wrong with you?”

 Arcadia recoiled back a little and began a low but soft growl in the back of her throat.  Arcadia wasn’t growling at Heather, she was looking right past her. Heather stepped toward the dog still speaking to her “Good girl Cady.” She praised. Once beside the dog, she turned around to see what the dog was growling at. Heather was prepared to see an axe wielding murderer, a burglar or even a rapist. She was not anticipating what she saw when she turned around. She managed to stifle a scream.
 Staring at her from inside the mirror was a tall, thin gentleman with brown hair, a kind face and gentle playful eyes. He wore a dated suit from what Heather guessed was turn of the century and wore a sheepish grin. He smiled at her and spoke with a soft British accent.  “Forgive me m’lady. I seem to have lost my sister’s ball. I don’t mean to frighten you – I will not and cannot harm you. I just wish to have my sister’s ball back.” He stretched out his hand but it did not cross the mirror’s threshold.
 “Who are you?” she asked him
 “My name is inconsequential…”
 “Oh I’d say it’s very consequential!” she insisted.
 “I cannot harm you…” he reiterated, “Please…my sister’s ball.”

 “Name…” she said diligently
 He signed “You are a persistent one.” He raised his eyebrow
 “My house, my haunted mirror, my rules…your name, sir.” She ordered
 “Niles Winston Telford the Third.” He pulled his suit jacket straightening it.  “At your service.” He said with a slight bow, “ Now…might I please…have my sister’s ball back?”
 Heather looked down at the back and inched toward the mirror “How do I…”

 “Just give it a toss. I’ll catch it.”
 Heather took a few more steps forward, looking from the ball to him and back. Gingerly she tossed the ball toward the mirror, half expecting it to bounce back and knock over her lamp or break something. The mirror consumed the ball and Niles caught it.

 “Thank you,” he bowed again “M’lady.” He said turning to walk away.
 “Heather…Heather Marie Farrell…the First.” She added quickly
 “Pardon?” he said
 “My name…it’s Heather.” She said softly
 “Thank you…Lady Heather.” He smiled, turned and vanished
 “You’re welcome!…Annnd I’m talking to a mirror” she murmured “I really need to take a vacation.”

***

 “Your mirror…talked…to you…” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow over her coffee cup
 “I swear Lizzy! I know how “Outer Limits” that sounds.” She said sipping her hot chocolate pulling her knees up to her chin

 “Not so much “Outer Limits” per se. I’m thinking more downtown Belleview-esque.” She teased “Or perhaps X-Files…”
 “And it wasn’t the mirror that talked to me…”
 “Oh that’s right…it was the man in the mirror…” added Elizabeth “Because that’s oh so much better.”
 “Wasn’t that a Michael Jackson song?” questioned Heather’s other friend Anya who sat down with a cup of coffee.
“It was…such a shame he’s dead now. He was so iconic.” Nodded Elizabeth “So… getting back to mirror man. How much wine had you had?”
“Look, I know what I saw. I’m not crazy, and I wasn’t drunk.” Heather insisted
“Ok geeze! Simmer down!” Elizabeth said jokingly to get Heather to smile and ease the tension. “We didn’t say we didn’t believe you…we’re just teasing you.”
Heather nodded “I know what I saw.” She said softly “I know it was real.”
“Okay so…lets assume for a moment that you haven’t completely slipped your weasel and you are sane. Did he give you a name?” asked Anya
“Actually, he did. Niles Winston Telford the Third.” Said Heather
“I think you should do a little digging online and see what you can dig up on dear old Niles.” Shrugged Anya “What can it hurt?”
Heather sighed into her cup. Maybe Anya had a point. “Yea…I guess I could do that. What can it hurt?”
“And if you have slipped your weasel…well…we still love you.” Giggled Anya

“Oh yea…thanks for your support.” Heather laughed
“We try.” Elizabeth smiled

***

“Alright Mr. Telford…let’s see what we can find out about you.” Heather sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop. Arcadia’s tail wagged sleepily as she lay on the bed beside her. She went to the search engine and inputted his name. A string of websites came up with partial hits, but nothing concrete. She tried shortening it to just the first and last name and adding England into the search parameters. Still nothing. She sighed and began to absentmindedly pet Arcadia’s fur. “Okay…so…now what Cady?” The dog’s eyes turned and looked at her when she said her name, her tail wagged again. “How bout New York instead?” she suggested more to herself than the dog. She typed in “Niles Telford New York” into the search engine and again pressed ‘enter’. This time a wikipedia entry came up.

”Oh! We got something!” she said excitedly clicking the link “Niles Winston Telford the Third, son of Niles and Gertrude Telford of Staffordshire, England

Vampiric Embrace

Let me preface by saying...I work at a gas station part time (4 shifts per week on average 3-11pm). There are times where I have a LOT of down time. I cannot read while at work, as reading as always made me drowsy.  So instead...I write. This was one of the things I have written at work.


~K 

~~~

He was watching her again from the shadows, as he often did. Her skin was luminescent, her eyes of the purest ice blue, her hair long and flowing. A raven shade, with a tinge of blue in the right light. She was captivating to all around her. Exquisite, other-worldy. Perfect.

He dragged his tongue along his elongated canine. He growled under his breath as a pang of lust filled hunger struck him. And he was hungry, starving in fact. He felt a stirring inside himself when he looked at her. And it was not the first time. He clicked his tongue once more against his tooth and shrunk further into the shadows.

He stepped out of the tavern and into the night. The air was crisp and it had been raining again. He put his head down, thrust his hands into his pockets and began to trudge through the damp night. He looked up to see where he was sporadically, and occasionally to look at passers by. But aside from that he did his best to shut out the world.

"You left so quickly Seamus...didn't even say good-night." she was perched on the bench as he approached, "That was rude...don'tcha think?" she turned her ice blue gaze to him. He faltered in step, stumbling to a stop in front of her. She stood up within inches of him and licked her lips.

"You...startled me Morghan." he managed

She cut him off "Are you certain you want to venture down this path Seamus?" she said breathlessly as she twirled his long dark locks between her perfectly manicured fingernails. She cocked her head to one side. He was striking. Tall, sleek, sexy...but no self-confidence. She could fix that.

He opened his mouth to speak; quickly she put her finger to his lips; slowly shaking her head staring into his dark eyes. A smile crossed her lips as she stared at him, his mouth still agape. He was captivated, mesmerized and under her spell. Had she told him to bark like a dog, he would have. Gladly. She inhaled deeply, capturing his scent in her nostrils. She once again smiled as she closed her eyes.

"Seamus...I like you..." she said giddily "So, I'm going to give you a chance..." she said turning her back to him.

"A chance?" he replied softly, "to what?"

Slowly she turned around to face him, her blue eyes shone as bright as the moon. "To run..." she said simply revealing her fanged smile.

Musings # 1

The perfection and absolution of love is ever exponentially expanding - if we let it.

Poem #2

Of castle clouds
On sunset hopes
On dreams of snow white love
Of fantastical sensations
In desire of one vision
Sailing gently with lovers gaze
To tomorrows hopes and wishes
Of some times bent distant kisses
Gently flowing toward forever
Perfection perceived in ones eyes
Heart and Soul.

Poem #1

On peacock plume,

And angels wings

On ebb and flow of time

Hearts or’ flow in love and hate

Tidal storms toss to and fro

Eagles cry and cats eye glow

Grow cold and distant haze

Closed gates, crashed thunder

And fallen rock

Hearts crumbled and vengeance raged

Till never more voiced loud as a whisper

Screamed silent in my mind

For desperation crawls forth for forgiveness

And bleeds in hallowed mourn.