It's The Little Things: What We Would Miss

I

If someone ever asked you what your most favorite thing in all of the world is, what would you say? Perhaps the first thing that comes to mind. You might say your new iPhone, or a specific talisman, or maybe your friends and family. These are all, of course, wonderful answers of understandable meaning. But what I would miss the most, you could say goes into quite exquisite detail of the finer points in life.

For if tomorrow I woke up from a sleepless slumber and the sun didn't rise, there would be far more disappointment than you might think. Because with that, there goes the delicate rays that cut through blinds in the early hours of the morning to wake you up. There goes the shadows that dance around the clouds and through the harsh angles of buildings and houses and trees. There goes the vibrant feeling of rejuvenation after a day behind electronic screens. There goes the way the ocean waters would sparkle and dance, basking in the heat of a higher power. There goes the way nature glows. There goes the shifting of highlights in people's hair, the way the colors would constantly waltz through their manes. There goes the way beams would find their ways into helpless peoples eyes; there goes the vulnerability you see in blue eyes when the sun rays light them up like a clear water lake; there goes the piles of gold you see in dark eyes when the sun rays unearth them. There goes the innocence and purity of the morning when the sun first rises, and the whole world forgets that, yesterday there were mistakes. There goes the heartbreaking sense of calm in the evening when the sun sleeps away to rest, and leaves behind an array of colors to paint across the sky in different brush strokes. For there goes the sun, all that it is, all that is was, all it ever could be. There goes the sun, and everything it means.

If tomorrow I walked out and there ceased to be a wind, hardly ever again, more cons would come from pros. For there goes the lovely spring days, when the air is fresh again, and the way your hair tangles itself behind your ears leaves a pep in your step. There goes the music of the leaves when they sway, back and forth, playing dare with their tree and testing their limits with their branch. There goes the memorizing way leaves twirl to the concrete. There goes the way tearful days are met with harsh winds to dry tears to the face, to stick memories in the past. There goes the feeling of feathers against bare arms, the way that one way pulls you back to play and the way the other pushes you forward to conquer the world. There goes the wind, the youngest playmate, the oldest friend, and there goes every joy and anger it ever caused for anyone. There goes the wind, and everything it means.

If tomorrow I were to walk, and the pain of a typical causation ceased to reach my nerves, I tell you there would be more disappoint than pleasure. For pain is what makes us feel alive. Without the sunburn upon our cheekbones and shoulders, where is the proof that we vacationed successfully? There goes the reminder that tomorrow will come, if ever we draw a blade across our wrists. There goes the sting of the sun in our eyes that reminds us, that at least it's still there. There goes the small scrapes and burns on our arms and knees after a hard practice, to tell us we've done well. There goes the scars we wear on our backs and legs, to show the world that this evil did not defeat us. There goes the pain that ever created tears and tore apart love and the hate that created agony. There goes the pain, and everything it means. 

If tomorrow the bees didn't buzz, that too would be a shame. For no pollen, no travel, no honey, no flowers. No delight in honeycomb toast for a lovely afternoon, no honey for the tea when it gets too warm. There goes the lively green trees, rolling hills and dancing flowers. The vibrant colors of spring, the hot ones of summer, the soft ones of fall, and the magical ones of winter. There would only be the dead ones of the twilight zone, adorning every corner. 

If we woke and the sky wasn't blue and the ocean wasn't either, the world would be sad. Sad, sad indeed. The waters would not seem so mysterious, they would not call our names so loud. The skies wouldn't color our eyes, but darken our minds.

You see, it is the little things in life, that leave us so at peace. It's the absence of these things that leave us so rattled. These small, small things keep us grounded, keep us sane. To lose them would be death, upon shock and lack of creativity. An insane end to meet. 

Indeed, your most favorite thing in the world might be your phone, a certain outfit or homely meal. But my most favorite things, will always be the smallest wonders, that decorate our world without us even knowing there's a party. 







Thank you for reading. This is a new mini series I am doing in collaboration with my good friend Jackson, who will post these on his blog too. We will agree on the same topics and present our views of them to our readers weekly, if possible. So please, enjoy and check out his blog:

https://www.soggysaxongoesatitagain.blogspot.com

Short Story #3.1: The Grand Canyon

This world is so particularly broken that even the fissures in the ground could tell you a story about how madness made its name. In this world, every time the pain or the suffering of someone overflows their bodies and spills out into the earth, a crack, or a break, appears. We have ocean ridges from love affairs and sidewalk cracks from two week flings. We have lines through the middle of statues from everything that just wasn't meant to be. We have sinkholes from the hollow love that tears us apart from the seams. We have potholes from the people who we loved so much, and who just aren't in our lives anymore. We have dents in cement from the relationships that barely survived the beating. We have holes in the walls from poisonous pasts that we just can't seem to mend.

Everything has a story; every hairline, every hole, every cave, every ditch. 

So tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon.










 

I Guest Blogger: Ashlee!

Hope. Hold On Pain Ends. Hope is the backbone of the human existence. Or at least was to my existence. One simple concept that we depend on to keep our sanity. The definition is a feeling or expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. Now, I don't know how you were raised in terms of religion, but I have always believed that there is an afterlife. Whether the afterlife means existing only in the stars, or with a Heavenly Father, I don't know. I keep an open mind when listening to other religions and their thoughts. Hoping that whatever religion or theory about the afterlife is right, will be there when I pass, and then eternity of existence will lay in front of me. And the thought of no afterlife, seldom passed my mind. When looking at what this world is, and the beauties that stretch across our planet far and wide, how can you even think for a second the creation of our home was accidental. The way the earth vibrates at the perfect frequency of 8 hertz for humans to be able to thrive. The balance of the gases in our atmosphere to prevent earth being engulfed into a blazing inferno. The medley of colors that the sky puts together when our sun falls beneath the mountains every night. Tell me why even the most atheist of atheists still knows that tomorrow, that sun will come back, and we will live another day with its rays upon our skin. Science doesn't assure you of a tomorrow. But hope does. So even the people who label themselves realists, live with more hope than they know. They can still sleep at night rather than toss and turn pondering at which what breath might be their last. But they don't know what I now know. And anyone who would, couldn't ever close their eyes and rest their head even for a mere second. If they knew what I know, they'd go mad in a matter minutes. Ticking timebombs. Hope, the farthest thing from their minds. So I'm not here to bestow a burden on your shoulders, I'm merely here to inform you the truth about what is going to happen, and tell you not to lose your hope. Because without a struggle, there wouldn’t be a process, and no change would ever happen. So whatever God is with you, keep them close to your heart right now. Think of them every second, and never let the oblivion take you captive. Believe through what I'm about to tell you, and maybe you'll end up better than I did.

The first color I see is gold. I wake amidst the nightmares and the torment of the dark, and look at the metallic hue glimmering in the air like mist. The light cuts through my window like a prism, and the rays of the gold shot into my room and danced along the walls. There was a kaleidoscope of colors but the one that hung around the longest was the strips of gold. The window was cracked open, letting in the winter wind that pierced the still air. My curtains waved moving gently to and fro, cutting the sun rays, containing them within the fabric. Taking away the dancing shimmers on my wall. My mouth curved into a frown. It wasn’t every morning I got to see the sun, or feel its warmth. Alaska’s winters lasted for what seemed like a lifetime. Darkness. All day, all night. The sun slept for months, leaving us to rot with the artificial lights seeping into our skin. Turning into ghosts. If you lived here, however, you’d know that it is worth it. The first glimpse of the sun each year makes you forget everything that happens in the winter. Forgetting all of the days you opened the door to see the city lit up with led lights overpowering the wondrous Aurora lights. You take off the mask and uncover what beauty Alaska has stored in it. And then you see why people love it here, and why you would never want to leave. I could take a thousand winters just to feel one day with the light.

Everything comes back to life. The monkshood colors replenish, and the vibrancy of the flower fields rejuvenate. The ice crystals glimmer when they refract the sunlight, as they slowly melt away. The icicles drip, drip, until eventually all remnants of the winter has gone away, and spring starts peeking out behind the corner.

My personal favorite part of spring is seeing the wildlife. Of course, you have the rabbits and birds that start hopping around and filling the air with music. Then you have the deer and the foxes. Mysterious of sorts, but the gentle creatures that warm the hearts of all. Alas, come the bears and moose. The bear cubs and their mothers coming out from hibernation dancing in the newly discovered grass and weeds. The moose had been awake all winter, just like the people. And as the people do, at the first sighting of spring, they too take off their winter coat and feel the air just as it should be felt. If only they knew how monumental this spring would be to them. And exactly how much they need to be savoring each drop of this willowy spring.

My name is Cara. Cara Eloise Turner. I’ve lived in Seward Alaska for my whole life, and intended to live there for all of the rest of it. Fifteen years is not enough to see the whole frontier, and I wanted to see every square inch. I wanted to travel through the land of the midnight sun, and touch the stars. My family all the way back as far as anyone could remember lived in Alaska. Our family name was etched within the culture of Seward, and talked about all the way across the Kenai river. I think that’s why we stayed, for the sake that if the Turners left, who would there be to hold the bones of the small town together? God, we couldn’t leave if our lives depended on it. It’s not like we were crazy Alaskans you saw on shows, the ones who live in complete isolation, off the grid. (We call them bush people, and I secretly think their heads weren’t screwed on right.) No, we were normal people, you may even call us city people compared to the people in the bush. Maybe not on the same level as somewhere like California, but somewhere on the spectrum. We had ice cream shops and grocery stores, and alas, an excessive amount of gift shops on every corner. We had plenty, no hollywood sign or towering buildings, but when you read between the lines, we had all we needed to be completely content.  

My dad was named after his father, my grandfather was named after my great-great grandfather, and so on. And as soon as I was born, all hell broke loose. A female Turner? One not married in, but rather a Turner by blood? It mustn't be. Turner’s only had men. Men who grew up, married, and carried on the name and the Turner legacy. God, they didn’t even think of having to deal with a girl once. A homosapien from the female category? Don’t mind them, we only have men to keep our lineage pure. Until my mom came around. Everyone knew she was different. She came from the far lands of Ireland just to visit Alaska alone. “No intentions” she would say, just a fiery independent girl who aspired to travel across all places, run amuck through every whimsical forest, and jump all of the rivers her soul flow with the waters. Hippie heart, mermaid mind. I wish I got more of her fiery-esque in me. All I got from her was her hands. I swore I could feel the energy of Earth through my fingers, and that was definitely not a trait I gathered from the callous, unsympathetic hands of a Turner. Those only were useful for lifting heavy things, or slamming doors when having  pretentious temper tantrum.

Other than that I looked just like my father, cold, strong, and blue eyes that had a darkness that was not even found in the deepest brown eyes. I looked intimidating to say the least. However, I did have a smaller figure. My clothes always ranged from a small to a medium, and I know for a fact that doesn’t descend from any Turner of sorts. But other than traces of my mom in my bones, I had nothing of hers. Which was more so a blessing then a curse, seeing as I couldn’t survive a day if I looked like the woman that screwed my family over. The least I could do is act as if I was purely Turner and shun the O’Hara blood in me away completely. And that, is exactly what I did. To my family, and to me, I had no mother. Period.

And so by now, you know me and the land of which I call my home. You know my “pristine” Turner lineage, but you only know half of the story regarding my mother. The one I tell everybody when they ask. I know much more however. And it is a possibility that I too only know a fraction about my mom. There could be things that I don’t even know, but that is what scares me. If I only know half of what she has done, there could be so much more tragedy that she has caused just waiting to be discovered. And under her pixie like facade, the she-devil kept track of her kills, until of course there became too many to count. I know she didn’t have a choice taking lives like she did, but I also know that she never denied doing it, not once second guessing her demands. She had such a great ability to lie, and to also know when others were lying as well. With this, she maneuvered her way into people’s lives across all frontiers, leaving tracks of blood wherever she went. Her soft smile never pulled down by any of the burdens she was carrying. I try to think it was different, her circumstances. And they were, but she handled it with such grace, like she was already insane and nothing could interfere with the task at hand. Even when it came to hurting her own children.

I have two scars from her, one on my forearm and another on my lower back. Both of these are from shattered glass that hit me when she smashed the windows to our house. Late at night while I was sleeping she would go and commit the crimes without us knowing. Until my father found out.. He loved her like he loved nobody before, he thought their hearts were tied together with an invincible string. His heart ached at the thought that the women whom he devoted his life to, took lives of people who had devotions of their own, just as important. He tried to tame her before he let go. Tried to keep her where he could see her. But rabid animals don’t like to be tamed. She found ways to escape, through the attic, out the chimney, breaking window after window until the frigid wind blew like a blizzard in the room. Lest his countless attempts of containing the madness, the blizzard blew cold and hard, turning my father’s mind slowly into ice. Rage brewed within him, I would refer to it as insanity but I don’t think that word quite fits his soul. The only person I would ever dare to bestow insanity upon is her. The evil witch who crawled out of the broken windows, stripped the blankets from her own child’s back to cover herself with as she made a journey to kill another. My screams from the agony she caused piercing the air when she left. Yet she never looked back. Not once as my father uncontrollably sobbed begging for her to not go, just for tonight. Just for tonight. She left us the next morning.

The word got out soon enough, that Evelynn O’Hara worked for evil. She made a deal with the devil some years ago. Gave him a vow, promised him to give whatever he wanted or imminent death. He needed a favor now, and she answered to his cries, to do what he couldn’t do, bound to him with her life. The deal was to leave with him her firstborn child when she turned 16. I’m 15 and a half.

Ashlee Wirz has been my first guest blogger! Please check out her blog, https://www.ashleescornerofhappiness.blogspot.com 

and give it some love! This is her original story so PLEASE DON'T STEAL IT!

Life's Greatest Wonder

This world is yours; yours to create, yours to change, yours to love. Yours to define, yours to hate, yours to destroy. Yours, and yours alone. If anything tries to take that away from you, you must know their limits and hold your own. So.

If they blow out your candle,
Light up your bonfire.
If they tear down your gates,
Show them your walls.
If they bring to you battle,
Declare on them war.
If they send to you demons,
Conquer their Hell.
If they drown you in water,
Freeze them in ice.
If they throw fists of iron,
Attack with clubs of steel.
If they burn down your castle,
Laugh from your palace.
If they topple your kingdom,
Ascend in your empire.
If met with the enemy,
Spit in its face.
If forced to surrender,
Rise up in their rage.
If given the oppurtunity,
Always take the chance,
And if given the chance,
Don't waste the opputunity.
If ever given lemons,
Make apple pie.
But if ever given wings,
Learn how to fly.

If is life's greatest question, greatest enemy, and greatest lie. But you are in charge here; it's time to rewrite the options and stop wondering why.

Copyright Cactus

This is Copyright Cactus. He is my friend. From now on, Copyright Cactus will be at the bottom of all of my work to keep the bad people who steal other people’s work away. Please do not mess with him. He is trained to prick said people. So please do not attempt to steal my work (or anyone’s for that matter). Thank you.

This World We Live In

Strange cities,
Long nights.
Rundown places,
Bright lights.

Lonely kids,
Running around.
Hardly surviving,
Goin' town to town.

Midnight market raids,
Early morning train rides.
No walking, always running,
There's no more innocent side.

All grown-up,
At age fourteen.
A boy with no family,
Drinkin' rum from a canteen.

Mad as hell,
Real lost too.
Keep on running,
With no where to run too.

He doesn't know where he's going,
Just as long as it's far away,
From all of this pain,
Anxiety and dismay.

He's just a kid,
Man what went wrong,
For this boy to believe,
His life is long gone.

~

Dark clubs,
People wasted.
Drink after drink,
Without even tastin'.

Women getting tipsy,
Leaving home for strangers.
Guys thinking they're gonna get lucky,
Everyone's in danger.

Suddenly we've got mothers
Who don't know their child's father.
Making love becomes painful
When there's no longer a lover.

She got kicked out,
So she chose adoption.
She can't take this anymore,
There's no easy option.

So she was asking for it?
Somehow this is her fault?
That's funny, because she never gave anyone
The key to her vault.

~

Loud noises,
Broken glasses.
Cold floors,
Taunting classes.

This pain's too much,
He's heartbroken.
He didn't ask for this,
He's not just some token.

Why are you so shocked?
Your words carved like a knife.
You told him everyday,
To take his own life.

How do you feel?
Now that he has.
Have you seen his family?
They walk in a trance.

Where did he go wrong?
Please, tell me where?
Can you believe it took his absense,
For someone to become aware?

~

Asking questions,
Cameras flashin'.
Some shout support,
Others trash talkin'.

He's an idol,
She's legendary.
Sure they're smiling.
But happy? Barely.

No private lives,
No personal space.
And all because,
They have that face.

Because he needs makeup
To have an attractive face.
And in order to be pretty,
She has to wear lace.

Because society has double meanings,
It's got everyone caught.
And sometimes what's hate,
Outweighs all that's not.

Now she's wasted,
There's nothing left to do.
Now he's dead,
Haters got that too.

And if we loved them so much,
Someone please tell me why,
We didn't tell them so,
When they were still alive?

Make it stop,
Turn it off.
Don't you ever wonder,
When enough is enough?

Cold.
Empty.
Broken.
Is this really the world we live in?

Love.
Peace.
Happiness.
Where'd it go? Oh what a cease.

Please, look around
And offer a hand,
If the person beside you,
Can't seem to land.

I know what it seems,
But the world doesn't have to be
This cruel and heartless,
World which we see.

Children should have families,
Not alcohol on the streets.
And with a mother should be a father,
Not a woman abandoned in the sheets.

Kids should not be bullied,
And pushed to suicide.
Idols should not be torn apart,
But supported with love and pride.

The world is cruel,
But if you just look around,
Someone out there
Wants you to stay safe and sound.

I promise this pain will pass,
And so will this sorrow.
And in place you will find,
A beautiful Tomorrow.

-December 19, 2017.

In loving memory of all of our heroes, stars, and loved ones which have passed:

-Lee Ui Soo

-Kim Jonghyun

-Robin Williams

-Carrie Fisher

-Alan Rickman

-John Hurt

-And everybody else

May those with depression, those abused, those with scars, and everything else, soon heal, be safe, and find a love and peace with themselves.

And in loving memory of all those who have passed due to their own hand.

We miss you. We love you. May you rest easy, until we meet again.

~

New Year's Way

I understand the past
Hasn't been all too kind,
And I know a new year
Won't replace all the times,

When you cried yourself to sleep,
And feared waking up,
Just to face a new day
With the same old demons.

When you tried to cut out the pain
And cover up the marks.
When you were giving up,
And scratches turned into scars.

When sleep became a drug,
Nightmares a side effect.
When you'd scream yourself awake,
And collapse to the pain you'd profit.

Yes darling, I know a new year,
Cannot possibly change
All of the factors
That have left you disarranged.

But the funny thing with
The New Year's Way,
Is that it takes away all of yesterday
And instead gives you today.

So just hold on love,
You are destined for greatness.
Your life is only getting better,
Even without your awareness.

So light a candle tonight,
Let it blaze and let it burn.
When it dies out, let everything go,
For after all this Hell, it's finally your turn.

Say goodnight, say goodbye
To all the pain and all the sorrow.
Only take love and happiness
With you into Tomorrow,

Just know that everthing will be okay,

For that is the New Year Way.

-December 31, 2017.