A Very Zombie Valentine's Day

Acceptance, it's a hard thing to find in this world. Our friendship worked. I needed a confidant, a non judgmental companion. You needed sociopath who could rip the heart out of a zombies chest in two seconds flat. The natural attraction between male and female lingered. Yet, neither of us wanted mess up the core of our friendship despite the worlds apocalyptic state. We took up with religious nuts, new pilgrims amidst death. Not because we agreed with their cloying theology. They were simply human and that was rare. They didn't like us. But, it was hard to ignore a bitch with a Hello Kitty Ak-47 and her male sidekick. I provided protection, you came with the package. Thus, we were allowed to stay. I had hoped you could find someone to drag down into the cesspool of your desires. I hated that you were lonely, in need. I knew a killing machine could never provide the things you wanted. The pious were not so easily swayed. Machiavellian wheels turned. You teased me when I started the book club. I let you believe I had taken in interest in Oprah Winfrey's taste in literature. The fact that I had torched the zombie cunt with a flame thrower for attempting to eat Liam Neeson was somehow lost on you. I found a house with electricity and that pleased you. You knew you were receiving a gift. You were puzzled to find out the bag of Orville Redenbacher I had popped was not your intended present. This now archaic delight was mine alone. With a smirk, I revealed my book club, naked, gagged and bound. A flogger and a set of knives, was the only explanation you needed. Ak-47 in hand, I settled by the window. This Valentines was to be a special day not to be sullied by any shambling corpse. You had watched me behead, torch and obliterate hearts in a shower of bullets with quiet awe. I found your sexuality just as fascinating. I ate my popcorn and watched absorbed. When betrayed eyes met mine and a trembling ungagged voice begged to know "Why?" I felt no need to divulge the truth to these so called literates. How could I explain the importance of true friendship? Instead, I coldly backhanded her and replied "Because you made me read Tuesdays with Morrie you fucking bitch!" Sociopaths hate that touchy feely shit!

The Messenger

The moment she breathed, black birds of every kind filled the sky. Her every step was haunted by rook, raven and crow. The wizard seduced her like a dream, beheading her the moment his flesh parted hers. In that act he trapped her in torture. She became pain immortal, never to know pleasure. She lived as his slave, his messenger, carrying her severed head in her arms. Until one day their inky forms blotted out the sun. She closed her blue eyes and thanked them for their mercy. Carried by feathered wing they froze her soul in the wastelands. As their claws released she shattered. Her body transformed into glistening particles of ice drifting towards the glowing sunlight of oblivion.

Surviving the Apocalypse

A tumble weed drifts past. I'm chasing motes of dust that dance in the light.

I'm waiting for you.

All of you.

I'm watching you say you're busy. I hope it's true.

I do believe you.

Although, sometimes I don't.

I just can't fathom such a life.

I'm sitting in an empty living room.

I'm watching the clock tick. Trying to stay busy. Trying not to go mad.

I'm drifting in this apocalyptic dream in a bed of holly.

And I'm waiting for you.

There's some secret world out there I'm not apart of.

I suspect it can only be true. Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving.

It's out there waiting for you.

But, not for me. I just can't make it happen. Even though I try.

All I have is time. It does not pass quickly.

I can only wait.

And I'm waiting for you.

My email box becomes mostly empty. An occasional short note flows in.

Other forms of contact dwindle.

I try to tell myself I haven't lost what little I had.

I try not to run. Fuck, I want to run. I want to run from the waiting, the wondering and fear.

I want my thoughts to shut off. Let silent music flow in.

Then you all come back and I forget why I ever thought running was a good idea.

I wait with a painted smile.

Sometimes, I believe it, even feel it.

I'm even happy sometimes.

Then, I want to go to sleep. Shut my eyes on this empty life.

Simply not wake up.

I ache for nonexistence.

But, I'd never do anything.

I'm a coward.

I'm trying to find my way out. Trying to find what ever it is you have.

It drains me. I almost can't take it.

What comes so easily to you. Makes me so tired.

I hurt inside trying, but I am trying.

And I know it's almost over. One more holiday to go.

Then the still life painting will shift and glitter again.

Until then I'm wrecked upon the shore.

And with a smile. I make the best of it.

And I wait for you.

50 Things That Would Look Interesting Flying Through The Air

1) The Borg Queen

2) Various Borgs (Makes perfect sense after number 1)

3) Basket full of assorted lotions

4) A Bus, with passengers

5) A tank

6) Donkeys

7) Show Cat Breeders

8) 1 million unused silicone breast implants

9) Naked men with backs turned so you just see them from behind

10) 43 Yoplait Yogurts, full with lids open

11) Wilford Brimley and Jamie Lee Curtis having a deep conversation about Nerf products

12) Bean bag chairs of assorted colors

13) Scissors, lots and lots of sharp, pointy, dangerous scissors

14) A burning tire yard

15) Fiberglass insulation cut into Lucky Charms Marshmallow Shapes

16) A solitary jalapeño pepper topped with melted cheddar cheese.

17) Lit scented candles

18) Rush Limbaugh fans riding Dolphins

19) Feathered masks

20) Locusts wearing tiny hats

21) Al Gore meditating on top of a spinning globe

22) Sandcastles in a perfect V formation

23) Darth Vader in a Tutu

24) 14 Tiny ponies with waffles on their heads

25) Lions feverishly using their claws to make lemon zest (it's raining lemon zest bitches!)

26) Riding lawnmower

27) Prince, shakin it with bags of cheetos in both hands

28) Assorted terriers and a man who is enjoying their company far too much

29) Clear heels!

30) Potpourri sachets

31) Toast

32) A woman covered in buttered toast (like the borg a natural conclusion after the last)

33) A carved pumpkin filled with white ferrets

34) Chainsaws and linoleum floor squares

35) Pumice stones with signs of the zodiac printed on their surface

36) Wolverines and they are pissed!

37) Leather work gloves

38) A unicorn that poops ice cream and also eats nothing but ice cream, but hopefully not the ice cream it poops out. That would be mercilessly redundant

39) Satanists that only listen to the music of Morrisey.

40) Corn in all it's many forms

41) Dollops of crème fraiche adorning the works of Leo Tolstoy

42) Scaffolding

43) Minivans recklessly driven by border collies

45) Lilac washcloths folded neatly with little mints on top

46) AT-AT walkers

47) A clothes line with clothes and undergarments pinned on

48) A bathtub full of vegeteble soup (Sade music plays)

49) Infinite tubes of lube and 1 pizza

50) Alex Trebec cooking bacon in heart bedecked underwear while Klingons watch hungrily

Offensive Christmas Crap- 100 word flash

I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit, so I tried to amend that. Watching you turn blue, choking on your own severed cock, I can't help but feel I went wrong somewhere. Your struggles, the changing hue of your face, all very festive. Merry even. I know your eventual pallor will remind me of fallen snow. I drink the smoothie I made from our unborn child. The tender hollow that is my stomach helps me think. Bored of your thrashing my eyes shift to our tree. Then, it hits me. I put way too much tinsel on.

Scared Shitless, Will Travel.

At work, I lock myself in the bathroom. Again. My chest is tight as a vice as I struggle to breathe. It's only a panic attack but it feels like I'm dying, like my heart will stop. In that moment, part of me wants it to. Just so the fear will end. I slump to the floor and feel it all let go. I begin to shake and sob. Tears stream down my face. I fight the feeling of sick self loathing as the fear wells up to the forefront inside me. One question echos in my mind. Why aren't I excited? This, my reaction to being asked if "I'm counting down the days." until my vacation. Why am I so scared? I've saved and sacrificed over a year for this trip. I always thought I'd be over the moon with happiness. Now that it's near, I'm terrified and afraid I will fail. What's wrong with me?

My mind is like a hurricane right now, all chaos and blowing. I sit helpless watching Jim's trailer tumble end over end down the war torn streets of my mind. I have reasons to be afraid. I am doing a lot of very new things all at once. I am traveling alone with no idea how that works. I keep wishing some sort of step by step travel agenda will simply fall in my lap. All the steps mapped out from printing out forms, to bring this, stand here etc neatly listed for me. I like to know what to expect and what is expected of me. Instead, I only have a vague idea that I go to the airport with my confirmation code and somehow travel happens. I worry about what can I bring? How it all works. I wish it were all clear. The unknown frightens me deeply. I'm going to a big city with all the noise, buildings and things that make my heart race just thinking of it. It's possible after 10-11 years of no intimate touch that's going to change very quickly and I'm very confused as to how I feel about that, or if I even want that to happen. I will be separated from my routine and my dog. Two very difficult things to separate an Aspie from. I think about sitting in my hotel room and I wonder what will I do? Will I be brave enough to step outside? Or will I sit inside and be afraid? I think about this and my chest gets tight. I ask myself why am I doing this? Sometimes, I find the answer and the winds settle for a moment. My inner world is peaceful as I think back to when I was a little girl.

I can remember the feeling of the sun coming through the glass even still. It was one of my favorite feelings, like a warm puppy hug. The home I grew up in had a very large window that spanned the front of the house. I would sneak under the heavy drapes and watch the world that lay beyond. It was filled with life. Children played, cars passed, and adults tended their lawns. This was my dreaming spot as a child. The thin pane of glass seemed so much thicker trapped in my families fortress. I wasn't allowed to be in that world. I wasn't even supposed to be seen. I was taught what lay beyond that pane was all the devils making, that the people out there would hurt me in ways my grandmother seemed to relish describing to me. It all seemed so harmless sitting there. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to know what was out there. I would dream of traveling and of having a friend. I wanted that most of all. I had such a clear picture of that in my mind of someone running up to me, locking their arms around me, lifting me and giving me the biggest of bear hugs. They would sit me down, kiss me on top of my head and tell me they were so happy to see me. I would see it in their eyes, the joy, how they cared for me, that they meant the wonderful things they said to me in my daydream. It was a look I had never seen in my families eyes, but I could see it so vividly in my mind. It made me happy to think of it. I decided that was what having a friend would look like. I dreamed in the warm sunlight until my grandmother would catch me, and drag me out by my hair crying.

I never imagined I could actually have this dream. I've always held it gently, hoping but never thinking it could happen. Not to me, anyways. Somewhere in the midst of chasing another dream I found it. I have a person in my life that is my greatest champion, that never judges me, and that only builds me up. He is my family, my rock, a gift from the universe to make up for all the shit I had to put up with before finding him. I hand him the jumbled pieces of a world that makes no sense and he locks the pieces together and explains how it all works. He is the reason I don't run. Yes, I'm fucking terrified but I'm doing this anyways. Oh god, I want to run.

My mind urges me to quit. It whispers every mean thing it can think of. Brings up every bad experience and reminds me of times I've met online friends only to have them fall out of my life immediately after. My heart falls at these memories. The awkwardness and the stark disappointment written across their features as they met the pale shadow of who I was online. I think about how my clothes don't fit, my shoes are held together by glue, how my hair is a little uneven because I cut it myself and the gap between my front teeth. I wonder if he'll still like me? Will he even show up or will I be waiting in my hotel room for 3 days hoping? He's very busy. I could see it happening. Not out of meanness, but only because he has so much on his plate. I've barely heard much from him in the last month and I miss him. At the same time I'm happy for him because he is off doing things I can only imagine. It's a very weird feeling to be going so far and through so much and missing the person you are going to see. Even though I understand why he's not here and know I still have a friend, that he hasn't disappeared.... Part of me whispers that I've lost my friend because he's not here to hold my hand through this, like I want him to. It's what fear wants me to think, it's selfish and I know it's only because I am so afraid. I'm scared I might lose the closest thing to family I have. I would lose my person to lean on and to squeee to when things are good. I'd have to go back to holding everything inside with no one to talk to. I'd almost rather not take the gamble. I almost would rather continue to dream of that bear hug. To dream of having someone to do things with, rather than have my day in the sun. The dream gives me something to look forward to. I don't want things to change. I like having a friend. Finally, having a friend! I'm afraid I'll disappoint him. I'm afraid I'll fail. My fear tells me I'm failing already.

But, I know if I don't try then I never will. If I let my every neurosis hold me back then I'll never achieve anything. I would continue to only dream of travel, letting the fear of the unknown keep me at home. I'll never know what that hug feels like. I'd never know so many things. What is the point of such a life? To let fear hold me back is allowing a possibly fun, wonderful experience to slip through my fingers. My worries are not real. They are only what could be and what will be if I don't try. So, yes, I'm scared shitless. My chest hurts. My hands are shaking already. I'm losing sleep and often bursting into tears. I feel lost, alone and terrified. But, I'm going. Try to stop me.

Wyvern

"Most men would be happy. Why must you ruin perfectly good sex with this need for love?"

"I'm sorry. I want more." His voice cracked as he paused. Dejected, in a quiet voice he pleaded. "Is there anyway I can ever have that with you? I'll do anything."

Lydia's ice blue eyes regarded Nathaniel with calm reserve from her place in the window seat. She pulled his grandmothers quilt tighter around her naked body. Etched in sunlight, his heart longed for the angelic vision before him. Naked and vulnerable, Lydia could only think of him as "Tasty". He wasn't what she desired. At least, not yet.

She returned her gaze to the window. Thoughtful, she pushed a tendril of long white hair away from her youthful features. "Perhaps there is a way." A slim finger traced a line down the sun warmed glass. "Look to the fields, Nathaniel. The sun lights a path for you. Do you see it?"

Nathaniel practically lept to her side, mindless of the naked display he was giving his neighbors. His eyes narrowed as minutes ticked by. Lydia sat in patient silence watching him struggle. His heart sank as he sought to see what she described. Inklings of tears welled in his eyes. He knew his fate hung on something seemingly imperceptible. The world blurred and sharpened to a fine edge. He sucked in a breath wiping away despair. "I see it, Lydia. Oh my! It's really there!"

Lydia's mouth twitched in a faint smirk, briefly amused by his awe. "To have what you seek you must follow the path. Everything you need shall be provided as long as you remain true to it's course. If you stray I shall take it as a sign you have moved on. My life, in turn, will take a different path. Travel from morning light, until dusk. Stop only for what is absolutely necessary. Never lose the light. Accept no help. Travel on foot, until you reach the shadow of a mountain. I'll meet you there."

Nathaniel reached out to Lydia. Gratitude and longing shone in his eyes. He needed to touch her, to say goodbye, to thank her. Complacent, Lydia met his hazel eyes and shook her head. "The light is fading."

It was all she needed to say. Scrambling, Nathaniel dressed and quickly finger combed his hair. He paused in the doorway, taking her in one last time. He raced out the door smiling. His heart flooded with hope. Hope for the love of a beautiful woman, with hair, he thought of as prematurely white.

Days, then years passed. He heeded her instructions to the letter. His every need was attended. Anything he wanted, needed, craved could be found in just the right places, at just the right times. All except the one thing he ached for each night as he waited for the sun. Yet, every nourishing plate of food, each sturdy tent murmured unspoken rumors that the woman he cared for was beginning to love him. In surrender, he hoped and loved her even more. Hope spun dreams. Dreams embers fueled obsession. He shunned every temptation. Through sun dappled fields, icy riverbeds, windy desert; both he and time moved in a steady pace forgotten by the world. His hair begun to match the object of desire. A devout follower of the light, the slip of years went unnoticed. His mission and the sun were his only focus. Until one day he found himself an elderly man taking pained steps towards the shadow of a mountain.

Overwhelmed by emotion, his trembling legs gave way. Giving up now was not an option. He dug determined fingers into the cold earth and crawled to the shadows edge. Catching his breath, he rolled on his back and waited. The sight that met his eyes tugged at the unraveling thread of all his hopes.

"I've died. Haven't I?"

Lydia crouched beside him. Her hands moved in a sweeping appraisal of the old man's body. "Time has made you..." she searched for the right words as she poked his ribs a little. "Tender." she finished.

A trembling, wrinkled hand touched Lydias cheek in gentle wonder. "You haven't aged. You're the same. I've either died or I'm dreaming."

Lydia pinched him and giggled. "Tis no dream, Nathaniel."

"And now? Will you love me now" The question hung in the air before he could stop it. His need demanded her answer.

Lydia, ran her hand across the corner of her mouth catching an escaped line of drool.

"Oh yes." She stood. "I will love you in the only way I know how." Nathaniel looked at her blissful, eager, and expectant, even as her skin turned to ice blue scales. The woman he knew faded as she transformed into her true shape. He did not flinch as she changed. He simply reached out to the large winged beast that loomed over him, stretching it's wings. Sharp white claws lifted him. The larger version of her ice blue eyes swept over his dangling body. Her hot breath warmed him as he looked upon her with perfect trust. The realization that this was anything other than the culminating moment of his dreams, never had time to gestate in his thoughts. Sharp teeth separated head from neck in one merciful bite. Nathaniel's last moment had been an intensely happy one.

Lydia stretched out on her back, catching the blood of her former lover on her tongue. She drank his essence by the mouthful, until the pouring of his lifeblood slowed. Greedy, she shook the last drops out of the ragged wound like a child with a pixie stick, then bit him cleanly in two. The crunchy mouth feel of his bones and his tender flesh was something to be savored. She grinned a terrifying dragons smile finding she truly did love him. Who doesn't love a good meal?