1, 2, 3… go.

10Apr08

The static on the screen replaced itself with a picture. On it a man talked, he promised riches, wisdom, achievement, and many things that seemed great. He looked right at the camera, right at me! He said he wanted ME to vote for me. I told him he wouldn’t have to worry about that, I would.

Off the screen there was a commotion. The man looked to the side, still talking about what he would do for me.
A young man, lean and strong with his hair cut short, walked on the stage. He shook the man’s hand,
smiling. I envied that boy. They talked shortly about something nobody could hear.

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a switchblade! I screamed at him through
the TV to stop, to not do it. He thrust the knife into that man’s chest. Now, we would never get anything he
promised us. I told myself that it was going to be okay, the established officers would take care of that wretch.

To the side, there was gunfire. That will show him, I told myself. But, when the cameras turned, it was not the
officers who were shooting. The room was surrounded by men who looked just like the murderer, all of their fingers holding down a trigger on a fully automatic weapon.

Officers will take care of them, the government won’t let this happen. Someone knocked on my door, then.
That must be an officer, he’s probably coming to tell me I’m safe. They’ll be alright, I’ll be safe. I opened the door and a man was standing there. I asked is he was just on the TV. He told me that he wasn’t worthy to lick the boot of that man and that I needed to get outside.

Outside, stood thousands of people, the streets filled. The goernment is doing a census, I say. Names are being
called over a loudspeaker. Was that my name? I can’t tell, they’re muddling all the names together! There it was! My name! I heard it! I walked toward the loudspeaker.

A man on a podium was at the head of the line. People were called into a booth one by one. Some left after a few
minutes, but they looked down at the ground as they left.

I got to the front of the line. A man ushered me into the booth. It was about five feet wide in both directions, tall enough to stand in. A light flickered. A voice in the dimness asked me, his voice raspy, if I loved my government. I started to answer, but he interrupted me. He told me that if I said yes, he would kill me. Then there was a click and a low hum.

This is not an officer, the government is weak, rebels have overthrown them, I put my faith in them and now
what? Now they roll over and play dead! All this came in a rush, overcrowding my head. I wan to yell that I don’t, that I hate them. But then I realize, this must be a test! Yes! Yes! I love my government and I will gladly die for them! I screamed it, a smile on my face. Then there was a click and a bullet tore through my teeth, my tongue, my neck. It’s a test, I knew it, I say as the ground rushes up to meet me.

It’s only a test.

Filed under: Socio-fiction   |  6 Comments

The Boy with a Boy

31Mar08

Today, I aged ten years. I started the day by being woken up by my parents and sluggishly getting ready, it was normal,
you know, that thing that most people take for granted. I went to school, I did my work, I talked to friends, etc. etc.
Then I hit a hole. An embryo-sized hole. I found out that my girlfriend is pregnant. I wasn’t really all that surprised,
though. I’ve seen this coming for a long time, just like I saw it coming that I was going to leave her. Just like I saw it
coming that I was going to break her heart.

What I didn’t see coming was that she was going to keep it.
What I didn’t see coming was that I actually loved her.

Fast forward four months. Fast forward to people talking, people accusing, and me denying. Fast forward to me saying ”No
way, she’s pregnant?” Fast forward to me losing any shreds of pride I had left. I’m a deadbeat dad, I’m one of those stories
you read in the newspaper.

That’s about the time I started talking to her, asking her about it. How’s it going? Are you still going through with it?
Do you need me?
Do you need me?
Do you need me?
Can I get you anything?

Because I sure need you, and I need this kid.

Fast forward five more months, to me knocking on her door and telling her that I told everyone the truth. To me crying
on her front porch and apologizing. To me wishingthat I had a home to sleep in. Then to her in the hospital, and me
sleeping in the chair next to her bed, because this is the most comfortable place I’ve slept in a long time.

To her telling me that this wasn’t a mistake. To her kissing me and telling me it’s going to be alright.
To me holding my son.
To me seeing a beautiful life brought into this world.
To my son, Andrew, in my arms.

This is what love is like.

Filed under: Socio-fiction   |  15 Comments

Love in another time zone

17Mar08

It’s become apparent that the reason I’m always messing things up and running away is because I know that they’ll always be there. They’ll always be in my city, my neighborhood, my state. But then I venture outside of my timezone, and all of a sudden… I’m in love.

I’m in love. I’m in love. I’m in love.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m a self-centered, egotistical, boy whose mind races with all his longings, but can’t keep up with what he’s got.

Here’s where the fiction becomes nonfiction. Here’s where my life mixes with my writing and I start to become so invested that I can’t finish the story, because that would mean writing an ending, and I don’t want to do that. I wish this could go on forever and ever, so I’ll write a story and put her in it, so we can live in the same town, and I can be with her always. Then when she has to leave me or I have to leave her I can say goodbye properly.

This isn’t how this was supposed to end.

(I use the term nonfiction as a joke. I can’t bear to be too serious for five seconds. Take this post as it was meant to be, a light, whimsical, fun piece of fiction.)

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Dear Kyler,

16Mar08

By the time you read this, you will probably have already been playing barefoot outside in the grass outside, and you will already be so tired, so excited, so completely fulfilled that you won’t even mind the fact that you’re acting half your age. You’ll laugh and laugh and be completely content, while your brother is half a world away teaching haitians about Jesus. You won’t think about the fact that on the other side of the world, there is a mass genocide going on. All you can care about at that moment in time, during that frame of the movie, at that exact second when quarks form atoms form mass form you, is that the house at the top of the street, the one that burned down, looks lonely.

Tell the house about your day, and let it do the same. But the trees, the trees are falling.
Drop your pillows in the forest! The trees, the trees are following. Raise your eyes and salute! The trees stand on each other’s shoulders, waiting to fall. Yet, I stand on the shoulders of giants and I can see everything that’s ever existed and ever thought about existing. Their lives are like badly colored children’s books, out of order and drooled on and misshappen from getting stuck under the carseat.

But this… this life, this house, this family. This will pass. You… your mind, your soul, your body.
This will pass. That house will live forever, its roots digging deeper than yours ever could. And what’s become of yours? Your roots, where are they? Passed on down to your children their children and so on? Where are they now?Where are you now?

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