Don’t Do Anything you don’t want to explain to the paramedics!
"Simon Archer" overheard on 106.5 The Arch
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| From Cute Pics |
“For centuries I have watched over as humanity crawled from the muck and began its descent into darkness.”With a groan the man tapped the delete key on the laptop sitting on his knees. “Why is it so hard to write my own cursed story” he thought to himself then looked around at the scene around him.
Sitting in the center of a busy train station lobby none of these mortals could tell the difference in this cursed being and themselves.This was his favorite place to go and write, watching the humans disappear through the portal to the trains, listening to the random thoughts that would occasionally catch his attention. At his side sat a large Doberman pincer, his beloved Cerberus hiding like he to take a reprieve from the eternal grind of their existence.
For a moment his thoughts wandered, wondering how these small people would react to know that his ancient self was sitting there amongst them.With a smile he looked up to see a beautiful young woman standing before him.
“Good afternoon Aris dear.” The man addressed the roman goddess as he would any other immortal – as an equal. With a wink the woman plopped down next to him and reaches over to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.
“Still working on the book I see.I tell you D it is unnatural for you to spend so much time here with all these hoomans.” Aris wrinkled her nose slightly as she spoke.
D chuckled and nodded to her “I like watching them, and besides once in a while you catch a glimpse of a new and developing evil. Like that kid over there.” The man pointed to a quiet little boy with dark eyes standing next to his mother. “In a few years that one is going to turn out a real boon to our numbers down in hell.”
Aris gave the child a glance then waved her hand; “he is not my type, I will let you stick with the evil ones D. I will stick with my good old fun Chaos.”
Just as suddenly as she appeared she placed a kiss on his cheek and walked away.
D looked down at Cerberus and chuckled “And they say I am an unnatural being..” The dog nodded his head then lay down at his companions feet.
Turning his attention back to the laptop the man resumed his writing. “ The spirit of humanity is ever descending into darkness and death. When it reaches its final destination I will be there waiting with open arms.” D stopped and read over the line then looked up as the large clock in the lobby began to chime the midnight hour.
“Well boy it is time to get back to work. I imagine Cheron is pretty frazzled dealing with everyone without us.” D closed the laptop, slipped it into the case and stood, taking one more moment to look around the train station and smile to himself.
He then stepped into one of the alcoves and disappeared back to the River Styx to return to the underworld and his day to day grind of dealing with the dead.
A faint chuckle flows through the air like a summer breeze after the man disappears and a sheet of paper appears on the seat where he was sitting.
"I am how time looks to eternity. Each thing contains the seeds of its destruction. Its failure is ever compensated by the moment of rebirth. The road to paradise is through the gates of hell." Is all that is written upon the page.
Aris giggles again knowing D will find the same quote on his laptop when he opens it next and slips back to her duties of spreading chaos.
For the first months I was with this man and his family I spent learning their language.His sister and the old woman, who I came to find out was his mother, were eager to teach me and to show me the way things were done in their household. I learned that the traditions of his people were similar to mine in that they were simple but they were drastically different in execution. His language as well was similar enough tat it was easy for me to learn but different enough that i had to learn new words for everything around me.
During this time of learning I saw little of him. He would hunt with the other men of the village, and go off for weeks at a time to do I never knew what, but when he returned he always sat and watched me smiling gently. His mother noticed this one day and leaned close to whisper to me that her son was quite in love with me, more so than she had ever seen him before. I shook my head and went back to grinding the corn for that nights meal.
Sister and I went out for our evening walk in the forest before it was time to eat. During these walks she schooled me in the names and uses of the different plants that grew near the village. I was fascinated by this and eager to learn the medicinal and spiritual uses of the “little cousins” around us. In my village it was only the men who learned such things. Few women knew anything more than how to assist the other women with childbirth.
So each day I learned more and became more attached to my new family. But there were still nights when I would sob to sleep wondering and worrying about my lost husband, children and family.
By the passing of a year I was speaking fluently and for the most part running the household of my mother and sister. The villagers came to me as often as them for medicine and I was feeling comfortable, even loved in this community. This is when he returned and informed me that it was time we made our own home together.To be honest I had spent so little time with him over the last year that I had forgotten his desire to make me his wife, so this announcement was quite shocking to me.
Mother and sister each took a moment to speak to me that night and reassure me that he was a good man and that he loved me. Most importantly I was to make them proud by creating my own home as they had taught me and by giving the clan many children to carry on the traditions.
With a great sorrow in my heart I went with him the following day to find a place for our new home. He chattered excitedly as we made our way through the forest and he showed me three clearings he had found that he thought I would like.Of the three I resigned myself to the one closest to the river and nearest to mother’s house, should I wish to go visit her. With a whoop of happiness he scooped me up and gave me a quick kiss then we went back to mothers home and he set about gathering other men of the village to help him fell the trees for our home.
The next months were spent with myself, mother, sister and the other women of the village preparing the logs and building the house. When it was all finished mother explained to me that this was my home, by tradition, and I was to run it as I saw fit. With a grin she added that should her son get out of hand I was free to kick him out on his rump and there was nothing he could do about it. I took those words to heart and smiled inwardly knowing that this was my home and no one could drive me from it.
One night, just as the house was almost complete, I was sitting at the fire resting with the other women when he stepped out of the shadows of the forest with something in his arms. The other women started to giggle knowingly and scooted away from me as he dropped to his knees and held a large bundle out to me. In hushed tones he asked me if I would accept his gift and become his bride. He then sat the bundle down and moved back into the forest. I looked at Mother in surprise and she motioned for me to open the bundle.
Untying the cord and opening the leather wrapping I found the most beautiful white doeskin dress. I stood and held up the dress, it started at my neck and fell to my feet and every inch of it was woven with intricate patterns of beadwork.I had seen other women receive wedding dresses in my time with the village but I never expected to be given one myself. Knowing the time and effort that went into such delicate beading I could only smile to myself and sit down nodding to Mother in acknowledgement of the proposal. I was still angry at him for taking me from my family but I could not turn him away if he truly loved me as much as the gown suggested.
At the next full moon we were wed. The entire village was there to celebrate with us. Mother and sister dressed me and weeping kissed my cheeks. The village elder preformed the simple ceremony that bonded me to this man.
This is a striking comment but one that needs to be seen:
You decided that you wanted to move to an apartment that didn't allow
pets (and by the way, landlords are forbidden to do this in
I don't know what lured you. Maybe it was a boyfriend or a
girlfriend. Maybe it was a great view. Maybe you liked the woodwork.
At any rate, it was more important to you than she was. So you took
her down to the shelter, still wearing her cute little pink leopard
collar with a bow, and you cheerfully wrote on the card that she was
very healthy for her age and friendly and just likes to sleep in the
sun! I guess you knew her pretty well - you put her birthday down on
the card, too, making me believe you've probably had her for her
entire life.
Then you left, secure in your rationalization that somehow, in the
midst of kitten season, your seventeen year old cat would find a
home. The shelter took a picture of her scared face and big eyes and
put it on the web.
For two weeks, I looked at that picture. I hoped someone else would
see her fear and feel compelled to help her, but the public wasn't
seeing her. She was back in isolation, getting vitamin B shots and
subcutaneous fluids. The tech wrote "depressed" on her card. I'm not
surprised. I'd be depressed too if I went from "sleeping in the sun"
to a metal cage with a thin layer of newspaper.
Finally today, I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt too guilty
thinking about her sitting in that cage at her age. So I went down
and I got her, and now she's curled up on a fleece baby blanket in a
cat tree in my bathroom. When I go in there, she rubs her head on my
hand.
Today, I cleaned up your mess. I felt worse for your cat than you
did. And all over the city, other rescuers did the same. They rescued
your abandoned cats and dogs and bunnies and exotics. And we all
wondered the same thing as we did it: How could you create this
situation? How is it that you feel no remorse? How is it that you
were you able to walk away from an animal you shared your home with
for a year, ten years, fifteen years, knowing that they might die
because of your actions?
I'll never meet you to ask you those questions. I just hope I meet
the person who will be good enough to give your baby that sunny spot
to sleep for the rest of her life (however long that is). She
deserves it, and it's a crying shame you didn't have the decency to
give it to her.
This was originally posted in 2006. I am emailing this because the
message hasn't sunk in! I am hoping that just a a few people, well at
least one person, passes this on.
Author Unknown
I was married then. Married with two beautiful children the first time we met. He had come to our village to trade and to speak with the elders. I knew the first time I looked into his eyes that there would be some kind of trouble while he was there.
I met him briefly when my father and husband introduced him to the village. There were stories about him, stories of his battles, his magic, his conquests. He was a warrior from a medicine clan and he kept looking at me. Later that night, after the elders of the village had met with him, we all enjoyed the feast of venison that the hunters had brought back that day. I had just come back from putting my children to sleep when I heard the argument.
My husband and this stranger were arguing. The stranger wanted to take me as his but my husband, who I loved greatly, was fighting him. I stood at the edge of the firelight and watched the two men struggle. No one interfered, I think they all feared the stranger too much to step in. As the stranger plunged his knife into my husband’s chest he looked up and smiled, staring right into my eyes.
The stranger then stood, walked to me and tossed me over his shoulder and strode into the night. I was so shocked that I could not even resist at first. Shocked that my husband was dead, that no one had intervened, and mostly shocked at my own body’s reaction to the feral look in the stranger’s eyes when he looked at me earlier.
We were well into the forest when I came to my senses and started to struggle against him. With a chuckle he set me down and shook his head then proceeded to explain to me that I was his now, my old life was dead and that I would give him strong sons. That is when I decided enough was enough and kicked him square in the shin. Then I ran as fast as I could back toward the village.
Behind me I heard a howl, not a howl of pain but the howl of a wolf, and even more frightened I ran faster crying out my fathers name, hoping someone would come out to help me. I was so focused on getting back to my village and my children that I did not hear or see anything around me, that is until I ran smack into a naked chest… I looked up with a slight whimper realizing who I would see and caught a glimpse of golden eyes like a wolf for a split second then his eyes returned to normal.
He grabbed my hands, bound them with rope then ties the other end of the rope to his own wrist, then without another word he started walking away from the only home I had ever known.
I hated him then. I hated him for killing the man I loved, I hated him for taking me from my children, I hated him for taking me from my home. At every chance I shower him how much I hated him. I spat at him when he stopped to give me water, I bit him when he tried to feed me, I kicked and clawed at him whenever he came near, always shouting how much I hated him, how he was a devil to have taken me from my family and my home.
Even with my temper flaring, feet kicking, and teeth biting he was gentle and patient with me. Never did he raise his voice to me, nor did he treat me unkindly, other than my hands being always bound, through the entire journey.
His home was well outside of the village; an ancient woman looked up and nodded as we approached. She said something I did not understand and he chuckled and lead me into the house. Inside, there was a young woman tending a fire that smiled warmly as we entered. She frowned and smacked the man on the arm as she untied my hands explaining to me that I was safe and that she would help me get used to being around her brute of a brother. For some reason I felt at ease around this woman and it was not long before I came to see her as a friend and a sister. Her brother on the other hand, well it took me much longer to get to any point of being able to even speak to him.
--------------------------
I remember the first time I saw him. He was sitting at a table in a local café having a cup of coffee. His jeans were torn, the t-shirt that clung to his chest had seen better days and it looked like he had not been near a razor in at least a week. While I waited in line for my drink I overheard him chatting with one of his buddies. Snatches of conversation; “tropical paradise” and “lousy protesters” rang in my ears.
That was the year the war would end. So many of the men coming back from overseas had been treated like dirt. Spit on, called baby killers and monsters. To me it looked like this guy had been facing the brunt of that kind of abuse.
As I turned and made my way out of the café I glanced his way and our eyes met. His beautiful green eyes ringed in gold looked sad and tired. I smiled to him and made my way out. It wasn’t time yet.
A week or so later I was running an errand to one of the alphabet soup buildings there in town when I saw him again. This time he was all spit and polish. The lines of his green dress uniform crisp and clean, his face now clean of whiskers was even more striking as he stood at ease in the hallway. I smiles to him again as I walked past and chuckled to myself as recognition and confusion showed for just a fraction of a second on his well schooled features. After my meeting with the director I slipped out hoping to see him again but he was gone.
Off and on during the next few months I would happen across him during my various trips to the agency. Each time it seemed that thought he was all spit and polish that the shadows in his eyes seemed to deepen. There seemed to be an air around him of pain and sorrow. I could never put my finger on it but it was there like a taste in the back of my mouth that I could not ever fully identify.
He also haunted my dreams..
At first it was just dreams about a dark stranger. Dark as in I could not identify him. We would sit and talk and whenever I asked his name he just chuckled and I woke up. Then as time moved on I began to piece together his story. He was born in
It was after one of these dreams that I woke in the middle of the night and realized that I had to see him. I quickly dressed and hailed a cab. I knew where I was going even thought I had never looked up his address, I didn’t even know his full name. I just knew where I had to go and what I had to do.
The cab driver must have thought I was insane when I told him to stop before the apartment building. It was not the best part of town and the cabby could tell by my clothing that I was not your usual fare. But I insisted and he finally relented making sure to press his card into my hand as I paid him. “Just in case” he smiled. I nodded and made my way into the apartment building. Guided by an unseen hand I made my way to the door I knew to be his.
I closed my eyes and raised my hand to knock but before I was able to he door opened and he stood before me. For just a moment there was a flash of surprise in his eyes then that disappeared into the depths of sorrow that seemed to cry out to me from those oddly colored eyes. Without a word he motioned me to enter and walked to the small kitchen to grab a bottle of scotch and two glasses. I took off my coat and took a seat at the table. It was odd but it was almost as if he was expecting me. I watched him move through the kitchen his bare torso speckled with scars yet muscular and darkly tanned. His jeans still looking a bit worn were tight and admittedly looked nice on his strong legs.
When he sat down at the table and filled both glasses then slid one over to me we just sat there for a while looking at each other.
“I didn’t think you would really come..” His voice was so soft that it startled me. His sorrow filled eyes never leaving mine as he spoke.
With that one soft comment we began to talk. Well he did most of the talking. I listened and offered comments and support when I thought he needed it. Through the course of the next few hours we laughed and talked and cried and talked some more. I learned more about him in that one night than I think anyone else ever had.
It was soon apparent that he was tired and without missing a beat he asked me if I would lay down with him until he fell asleep. I said yes and we moved from the kitchen into the bedroom. Without an ounce of bashfulness he slipped off his jeans and climbed into the worn bed. I curled up next to him. We talked for a while longer then the words turned to kisses. The kisses developed into caresses and before long we were deep in each others embrace. We shared such passion that night, a passion that I would never forget, even a lifetime later.
One of the things that struck me was the way he let me hold him as he wept. When his tears were dry and the sun had began to rise in the sky I kissed him goodbye and left, with the thought that it would be another life before I saw those eyes again.
…………….
It was thirty years and another life when I saw those eyes again. My fiancée at the time had met this “really cool guy” at work and for weeks insisted that I come meet this fellow. I finally relented and let him drag me up to the shop to meet this guy that my fiancée had put on such a pedestal. I stepped into the shop and stopped cold in my tracks. I could feel him. I knew who it was even before I walked across the shop to the table in the back. I tried to turn around and leave but my fiancée was holding my hand and pulled me toward what I knew was the moment when everything changed. I finally shuffled my way back and moved around the last case and my eyes fell into his. Hazel eyes with a gold ring around the iris, I knew those eyes. The face was older but I knew it was him, even before he spoke.
I knew him but I didn’t think he knew me. I was a different person, a different face a different voice. I figured it was safe enough to sit and talk with him. I knew he would not remember that night, nor would he remember me in the shape I had. That was the beginning of it all. Or I should say the restart of an old love affair…
But of course that is a story for another time, one when I am able to tell or our present and our future. This is the time for remembrance. And that is the memory of when I first met the man who had been and would be my greatest love.
So lets see if this email thing works…..
Moonlight shimmers across the open waters of life as we all seek our path. And sometimes we are luck enough to cross paths with those who we will share a deep portion of our lifes with. Dear friends are a blessing and we should guard each one as a precious gift from the Creator. Always watch out for those you love and help them along the path as well as you can. May your path be one of love and happiness and may you never slip into the depths of the waters and loose your trail.
