Silver fox but with done up hair.

From The View of a Shrub

If you could fly would you? Away from everything terrible in this reality, going faster and faster until you tire out and sleep amongst the stars? Would that even be far enough away? Do you think you would keep pushing farther away until you are surrounded by things unseen by eyes of yore. I ask myself what it would be like to just leave this place all the time, I don’t have a terrible life, an innately painful or difficult life. I live mostly alone; I like talking to the grass, trees are good conversationalists, but, I’m told that every fall they get this mood swing, then they get depressed as winter goes on. I haven’t been here long, my shruby self is two weeks old tomorrow. Not that it’s a big deal or anything. Just a little milestone. I think I will learn to like it here.

It’s now very cold out I had to tear away my leaves so I could survive…. I thought I was beautiful with my leaves and flowers, now I’m spindly and bare. I feel so naked without them. The trees stopped talking today. Said this was all going to be over soon and faded away. The grass is long  but is telling me that as soon as snow comes they won’t be around to talk. Grass is always so considerate, so courageous. The way they told me they would live on in the seeds they’ve been working so hard on. It gives me hope seeing others be strong, makes me feel like I can survive too.

Some oyster mushrooms grew on a fallen log next to me, if you come to where I am you’ll see ‘em. I guess they have flowing earthy voices, made a racket when they started growing though. Oyster mushrooms are a bit narcissistic when you try to get to know them. Feeding off the dead doesn’t add any charm either. I just hope they stay away from my living tree friends.

Snow feels… Crisp, and calming, everything slows where it touches me. It is a bizarre experience, I’m not sure if I should be afraid or jubilant at the beauty of these water crystals floating down from the sky! Oh, a furry thing took my dead twigs away chirping something about children being too rough while playing; I hope they are able to fix whatever it is that’s broken with what I don’t need anymore… It is still unsettling that someone took my dead body parts though. I saw reindeer today! They were pulling a sled with a man dressed in red driving and children in the back laughing, playing and shrieking at the sights around them. I heard a few things about Christmas and presents. I wonder what that is about?  

I know you probably don’t realize I talk to you. You never answer my questions, you never tell me about yourself. You come here often and usually by yourself, you have an ability to morph your skin to suit the weather, is it called coat when in winter?  You used to be very happy but now your aura is filled with something else.. I think it’s loneliness, I’m lonely sometimes too. But then you come to sit and I get to tell you about what I’ve seen. You are wonderful to speak with, I wish you would sing more, like you did with the other taller person. All I want is for you to be happy and see me.

(been dealing with some trauma and anxiety from a few things that happened over the summer. ((Seeing someone about it don’t worry)) First thing I have been able to sit down and write in way too long)

A Heartbroken Blogger

Sherlock left. Slammed the door in Joan’s face and walked out into the afternoon, she needed to clear her head. Joan always made it harder to think fluidly about anything other then the way Joan’s undershirt was getting see through from soaking in rain from just eight minutes ago, her sweater peeled off and tossed aside before they had their row. Why couldn’t she keep her eyes from drifting down at the outline of her bra? She had been trying not to let herself feel romantically or even sexually attracted to anyone, especially the woman she works/lives with. Willow Sherlock Scarlet Holmes has no time for human error such as what would undoubtedly –and has already– clouded her judgement. It’s been more or less easy with other people.. It’s all Joan’s bloody fault. Sherlock doesn’t know how quite yet but she’s determined to pin it all on her blogger… Or have her blogger pinned against her body…

Damn it. Sherlock rubs her face and nearly goes down the alley her last dealer works out of.. No, Joan will – Enough! Enough you decided it was useless! But… Joan hadn’t seen anyone since Mary got pregnant with the child of some sexist lawyer. She starts pacing wishing she had thought to bring her scarf and coat as water hits her face and soaks through the fabric of her clothes. Is this the opportunity I hadn’t realized I have been waiting for? No, she must still be getting over it.. If she is she’s taking her damn time.Maybe she needs a little help.. And that help Sherlock is willing to give. She sighs it’ll just have to be put off for now. Time to head home to her heartbroken blogger.

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The Pale Boy-A weird dream

“You understand what you have to do?” said my commander, a pale blond 45-50 year old woman.

“Yes.” I say even though she had actually said nothing, I knew exactly what she wants me to do. Sigh. That’s just how it is, not knowing but knowing at the same time. It makes you feel dizzy, and light headed.

“You realize you will probably end up Ghosted?” Ghosted, that was just an accepted risk of being with the organization. Ghosting is just how agents get out of an enemy’s reach, their soul leaves their body and goes into another. After an agent does that they gain new memories, thoughts and over all emotions. Until, of course a Controller picks you up, takes you back to headquarters and reverses it. Well, if they can find your body. That’s a 50-50 chance.

All of the sudden I’m running, I have to get---something--- to a couple agents gone bad. I look behind myself, and see him. Behind a tree there is a tall, thin, pale boy about the age of 17, with a single tear on his cheek, his eyes were dark and so very sad, yet menacing at the same time.

Now I’m at an airport, running across the landing lot. I see the boy again, he has been following me ever sense I left headquarters. I have to get away, this going through my head over and over. I have to get away, I must get away, I need to get away.

The world shifts and I’m standing between two bunk bed looking holding areas. With their wrists handcuffed to the rods on the side of their cells, the two inmates look up at me. One had gross looking facial hair and the other was a mix of nerd and sweat.

“If you want freedom you are going to help me,” I say trying not to choke on the vomit coming up my throat. They say nothing, yet we somehow come up with a plan to capture the pale boy. I’m outside again.  I set myself for the plan, but, it’s too late, he has found me I run back inside. I know too much, I cannot let this boy get his hands on my memories. I have to Ghost, as I reach the inmate with ugly facial hair, I drop unconscious……..

I wake up breathing hard, in a dark bedroom, where was the pale boy? Did it work? Was that a dream? Or was it real…. Hearing my dad get up for work I decide that my mind is playing with me and go back to sleep.

 This is a dream I had and the thoughts I had afterwards. Yes it still make me a little anxious to think about it.