The Pyramid

       I have traveled far for this.  Ebjan is clear across the galaxy from my home world.  But I need answers.  My people have been decimated and my culture is in tatters.  I tried to stop this from happening.  The Galactic War had grown too destructive.  I should know since I bore responsibility for much of the destruction.  My acts of heroism or villainy mean nothing now.  For it is over.  Now there lays before me only a void.  I’m hoping the legendary temple on the planet Ebjan will hold some answers for me on where to go from here.  It is said to be as old as the galactic center itself but that is just nonsense.  All came from the galactic center so clearly whoever built it must in turn have been born from there first before the task of construction commenced.  Still I have heard tales of it’s miracles and at this point am willing to try anything.

       As I enter the atmosphere of Ebjan it does not take me long to spot the temple.  I see no ports but the land around it is flat and clear so I simply bring my craft down there.  I walk the dry gray cracked soil until I can almost touch the structure.  Something makes me stop suddenly.  I gaze at the columns of colors.  Each color has a row that ascends all the way to the point.  I can’t make out what color the pinnacle stone is though from my vantage point.  

        I stand there and wonder if my voyage was an act of foolishness.  What does a pyramid however ornate have to aid me?  Just as I am about to turn back a figure appears beside me.  I instinctively reach for my weapon.  

        “No need”, says the feathered being.  Her shades of blue almost matching one of the shades of the pyramid blocks.  “You come seeking the wisdom of the pyramid?”

        “If it have any wisdom to bestow to me”, I answer.

        “Then let us see.”  The figure walks to the nearest row of colored stones which are a reddish hue.  I follow with trepidation.  “Touch the stone”, she entreats me.

         The red stone reveals itself to be even more massive against my hand.  I don’t know what I expected to happen but can’t hide my disappointment when nothing does.  It is not lost on the stranger with me.

        “The red stones call forth physical safety.  You feel very safe.”

        I can’t help but smirk at the ignorance of this odd entity.  “You don’t know who I am?  I am the great Tholomew who has laid entire planets to rubble.  I have commanded armies as vast as the seas of this world.  What could I possibly have to fear?”

        The figure’s eyes stay steady on me for a moment.  She then turns and walks to the next row.  I follow.  She gestures once more for me to place my hand on the orange stone.  I humor her.  

        “The orange stone indicates pleasures of the body.  You know of such things well I take it.”

        I chuckle.  “That’s one way of putting it.”  My guide through this very unimpressive temple simply nods and walks to the next row of yellow stones.  “Let me guess”, I sneer, “Put my hand on the yellow part.”  I do just that.

        “The yellow indicates mastery of thyself.”

        “I’m a warrior.  A warrior must have full mastery of the body and mind.”  The feathers of my companion gently shift as she turns to move to the next green row of stones.  

        Catching on I move to place my hand on the temple once more but to my disbelief I cannot.  I push with all my might but my hand stays just above the stone.  Some force prevents me from making contact with the green.  Suddenly a star like design etches itself on the green blocks.  All the way up the pyramid this circular pattern appears in repetition.  I can even make it out on the point, although I cannot say for certain if it was always there or not.  “What happened?”, I ask.

        “The green is for compassion.  You do not know this so that is where you must now concentrate your energies on.”

        “I do not have time for this”, I bellow.  “I need to find a way to save my people.”

        My guide touches her beak for a moment as she looks me up and down.  “You are a powerful entity.  You have mastered all the physical world.  You fear nothing that it can offer.  But you have shut yourself off to the intangible and that is where you and your people’s salivation will lie.”

        “This is nonsense.”

        “You sought the wisdom of the temple and it has given it to you.  Master love for that is where all things lead and where all things come.”

        “You do not think I have wept for my people?”
        “You only wept for what you have loss not what you have gained.”

        “I have gained nothing.”

        “Have you?”  With that she spins her body around and begins to walk away.  

        “What about the other colors”, I cry out.

        She halts and turns back to me.  “They make all things possible but you cannot know them without knowing the heart.”  

        I watch her disappear over the horizon.  I whirl back to the pyramid and pound my first against the green brick with the golden symbol.  Once more I am thwarted from making contact.  I turn away in disgust and head back to my ship.  

Buddy

        “This is the spot right?”, I muttered as I looked around trying to make out the numbers.  

        “Yeah, the dog ran out of a green house.  I’m sure of it.”  

        Mike and I ran over a dog last weekend.  Or I suppose more accurately I ran over a dog and Mike was sitting in the front seat next to me distracting me with some stupid meme.  The dog died instantly which I guess is the one silver lining.  He didn’t suffer.  His owner sure seemed to though.  The old man let out a wail unlike anything I heard before.  The dog shot out of the house.  Even if Mike wasn’t trying to get me to look at his phone I’m not sure I would have been able to stop in time.  Maybe I would just feel less guilty.  

        Mike and I have both been wracked all week.  I’ve barely been able to sleep.  I just keep seeing the dog lying there, blood on the asphalt.  Playing the guy sobbing and us meekly trying to say how sorry we felt over in my head.  The weirdo didn’t even say anything.  He just picked up the body and carried it back in the house.  He didn’t acknowledge our apologies or nothing.  

        A friend suggested we get him a new dog to replace the one we took away.  I searched shelter and dog rescue websites till I found one that resembled what I remembered his dog looking like.  I convinced Mike to come with me to pick up the replacement pet.  

        The pup panted and looked out the window in the backseat during the whole somber.  He seemed friendly and high spirited so I was hopeful this might just do the trick.  

        “There it is 307”, Mike blurted out.

        I parked along the curb and took a deep breath.  “You ready for this?”

        Mike sighed.  “I guess.  Let’s just get it over with.”

        We got out of the car.  I opened the back door and the canine leaped out.  He was like a kid in a toy store, looking around and sniffing everything.  I couldn’t help but smile.

        I gripped the leash tightly in my hands as Mike and I stared at the home nestled amongst woods.  We looked at each other and nodded.  The walk to the front door seemed like it took forever.  I tried telling myself what’s the worse that could happen.  He slams the door in our faces?  Not like he is going to shoot us over a dog.  Would he?

        With a slight tremble I pushed the door bell.  What seemed like an eternity passed before the door opened.  A lump the size of a cantaloupe formed in my throat at the sight of the man.  He looked at us and then at the dog.  Finally he spoke.  “What do you want?”

        I stumbled over my words.  “I don’t know if you remember us but…”

        “How could I forget”, the man cut me off.

        I was taken aback and stood there in silence and shame.  Mike came to the rescue.  “We feel really bad so we brought you another dog.”

        “Come in for a minute”, was the man’s only reply.

        ‘Oh no!  He is going to kill us.’  I thought for a moment.  But the dog was already pulling me in and before I knew it Mike and I were standing in the man’s living room.  

        The man said nothing but walked over to a book shelf.  I noticed pictures of him and the dog we had killed at various parks displayed throughout his home.  The man came back carrying a scrap book.  He handed it to Mike without saying a word.  We looked at it and then at the man.  He nodded toward the leather bound album.  Mike and I opened the book and began to leaf through the pages.  It had pictures of the dog.  Next to each one was a little paragraph.  Apparently the man was divorced and found the dog while going for a walk eight years ago.  He had been his companion as he rebuilt his life.  They shared a Tastykake every night before bed.  They went on camping and fishing trips together.  He was his only companion over the holidays that first year after the divorce.  They shared turkey on thanksgiving and sat by a fire outback.  

        “You two did a lot together”, I meekly said unsure what other response was appropriate.

        “He was my best friend.  Still is.  The experiences we shared made him that.  I don’t need a replacement because you can’t replace memories.  I still sit with him every night out back on that stump.”  The old man closed his eyes for a moment and continued.  “I’m sure that dog there is a very nice dog but he isn’t Buddy.  That’s who you ran over.  Not just a something but a someone.”

        “So you're not going to take the dog?”, Mike asked.  

        The old man looked at the canine and sighed.  “What will happen to him if I don’t?”

        “I…I don’t know.”

        The old man looked directly into my eyes.  “You feel guilty?  Wish you could undo that day?”

        All I could do was nod.  

       “Then take that pooch into your home.  Love him and let him into your heart and we’ll call it even.  You don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”  The old man then patted the dog’s head and took the scrapbook back from Mike.  “You know the way out.”  The old man then disappeared up the stairs.  

        Mike and I looked at each other.  Mike shrugged.  “Come on”, he said.  “It was a good try.”  We walked glumly back to my car.  When I opened the door the dog hopped into the back seat.  Mike I climbed in up front.  As I went to turn the key in the ignition Mike asked, “You actually going to keep the pup?”  I looked at the house.  I noticed a fire pit in the backyard.  A stump was near it and right next to the stump was a mound of dirt.  

        “Yea”, I answered. “I think I’ll name him Buddy.”

A Conversation

       Harriet stretched her arms high over her head as the first faint flickers of the sun just barely touched the last leaves that clung to the branches of trees.  What a wonderful night it had been, she thought to herself.  She decided before returning home to stop off at the nearby park.  She followed the vacant trails till they led her to a dead end at the edge of a bog.  She looked into the water and saw her faded reflection.  She instinctively ran her fingers through her hair as she had done since her first memories as a little girl long ago.  

       Harriet was startled from her reminiscing when she heard the crunch of leaves.  She turned and saw an older man who made his way slowly toward her.  He was bundled up in a jacket, scarf and cap to protect him from the brisk morning air.  The white whiskers around his mouth had the faint stain of coffee on them.  Harriet watched in silence as he approached her.  He stopped right next to her and rested his walking stick against a tree.  He looked over the water as the sun was just about to fully reveal itself.  

        “Lovely morning isn’t it?”, came the man’s soft but firm voice.  Harriet did not respond.  “Not one for talking?”, came the man’s question.

        “I beg your pardon, are you talking to me?’, Harriet inquired.

        “Well, I’m not talking to the frogs.”

        Harriet startled asked, “You can see me?”

        “No.  But I know you're here.  After all it is Samhain.  I can hear your whispers in the air.”

        “Most people miss me.”

        “Most people miss a lot”, replied the man.  “Did you have a nice visit?”

        “Lovely.  I saw family members and delighted children playing. I heard laughter and birds singing.”

        “You do not get that back home?”

        “You do it’s just different here.”

        The man let out a heavy sigh.  “That’s why I come out here, I suppose.  Afraid I’m going to miss it all.  I know I don’t have much more time.”

        Harriet smiled.  “There is no need to worry.”

        “You just said you come back for visits to experience the very things I love most about life.  I’m afraid of letting it go.”

        “But that’s just it.  You never let it go.  Ones such as myself come back on Samhain so we can be reminded about what made us who we are.  We gain perspective about what’s real and what’s not.  What you lose upon death is what isn’t real.”

        “Did you transition to your current state recently?”

        “Yes.  That’s why I come back.  To remind myself how little I lost.”

        “But you still miss life?”

        Harriet pondered for a moment.  “Not in the way you think.  I miss the chance to not know and discover it all again.  That’s the greatest loss when you die.”

        Harriet and the old man stood in silence looking out upon the water for a few more minutes.  Finally Harriet broke the stillness in the air.  “It’s time I should be getting back.”

        “Thank you for our conversation”, said the old man.  

        Harriet could tell he was hesitating to ask something else.  “Speak”, she urged.

        “Did I live a full life?”

        Harriet chuckled.  “I can’t answer that.  No one can but you.”

        The old man nodded softly. “So?”, Harriet asked.

        “So what?”, replied the man.

        “Do you think you lived a full life?”

        The old man stared at his reflection in the water.  His weary eyes and wrinkled skin met his gaze.  “Yes”, he finally replied.

        “Then there is your answer”, said Harriet.  As her translucent form passed through the old man’s he felt a wave of peace wash over him.

Invisible

        I am an invisible man.  I mean figuratively of course.  It’s not like I have magical powers, although at times I wish I did.  Then maybe I would actually get recognition.  Instead I’m a pile of flesh and bones that stares at an LED lit crystal display.  The same boring tedious chores day in and day out come across my screen.  They make computers seem so sleek and powerful in the movies.  IT people like myself in the thrillers can accomplish anything just dancing our fingers across a keyboard for a few seconds  In those flicks everybody looks towards us to save the day and make the impossible happen.  However, in real life they just come to someone like me because they don’t feel like waiting an extra minute for some meme of a cat and duck to load.  

        Nobody takes notice of the joker here in the closet with all the humming machines.  Instead a relentless parade of pop up alerts from my supervisor, who by the way can’t even pronounce my name right, are the only companions I know.  I would have a better shot of a fairy or leprechaun popping into my office then someone actually stopping by to say thank you or ask me about my day.  

        I know everybody says work is just something you do to pay the bills.  Grin and bear it, right?  I might be able to get behind that if my home life were a little more thrilling.  But it’s not.  It’s a musty apartment with old pizza boxes and Chinese take out containers.  It’s where I play my online games.  My only chance to pretend that I have something worthwhile going on in my life.  My avatars get to have fun at least.

        So as I said I’m an invisible man.  I walk through life unnoticed.  If I were actually invisible I doubt much would change.  In fact, I’m certain nothing would. 

        Guess that’s enough about me for one morning.  Mine as well leave my cell to get my second cup of coffee in the break room.  Every time I go this new woman that started last month shows up.  She always tries to ask me how to use the Keurig machine.  Like she lived under a rock her whole life.  How does anyone in this day and age not known how a Keurig machine works?  Then she tries asking me about my coffee or some stupid IT question.  Man, I wish she would just leave me alone.  Eh, better go get it over with.

Silence

       It was day three and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.  The sleep deprivation was definitely taking its toll.  The nights were fitful as I woke up startled every hour and rushed to my phone but nothing.  My food rations were also concerning me as they were getting dangerously low.  I paced back and forth in my living room, my computers bland desktop mocking me.  

        I jumped when I heard my phone ring.  It was Kyle.  “Hello”, I mumbled.

        “Mike!  I heard it was back on the East coast?  Is it true?”

        “No, I just tried a minute ago.  I don’t know what to do.  I’m getting hungry and all I have is a can of spaghetti-O’s and some packs of ramen noodles.  I can’t keep eating that crap, man.”

        “I hear ya.”

        “How am I supposed to go out to get food.  I have no idea what’s going on in the world.  What if killer frogs have invaded and no one’s been able to put it on reddit it or tweet it.”

        “I haven’t seen any frogs out my window.”

        “That doesn’t mean anything.”

        “Alright, well let me know how you make out, bro.  I’m going to give it another try over here.”

        I hung up the phone.  Kyle is so useless.  But I guess we are all in the same boat.  We are all stranded.  No information, no help from the outside world.  I don’t even have anything to distract myself from this torment except for some dusty old blue rays I’ve watched a dozen times already.

        But there was no more fighting it.  I just had to venture out and take my chances.  I grabbed my mask and kicked the blowup doll in frustration as I left my pad.  

        I walked down the street.  There were others who were out as well.  Our eyes connecting as we passed each other.  We had nowhere else to look.  As more and more people passed me I had this strange feeling.  I had felt so isolated and so alone for so long.  I mean first the pandemic and now this latest crisis.  But as I walked passed more and more people their eyes seemed to say something.  I don’t know it sounds silly, maybe I’m losing my mind but I felt like there was a whole conversation in that instance our eyes met even though I couldn’t remember the words.

        I walked into the cafe and up to the order taker.  I noticed the name tag said Brad.  I looked Brad in the eyes and said, “Hello.”

        “Hey there.  How you doing?”

        “I’ve been better.”

        “Yea, I think everyone’s feeling that way.”

        “How are you doing?”, I found myself asking for some strange reason.

        “Still breathing”, Brad said.

        I smirked and placed my order.  

        “Sorry we only accept cash since the internet’s gone down.”

        I had instinctively handed him my debit card forgetting the crisis we were in.  “Oh crap right”, I exclaimed as I dug through my pockets for cash.  I handed the wad to Brad.  Our hands touched as he took the money from me.   I felt a tingle.  It wasn’t anything romantic or sexual or anything.  I didn’t pine for Brad over here.  It was just I hadn’t had human contact in so long.  Seeing someone’s face again and touching their skin it somehow stirred something inside of me.  I worked in IT so I had been out of work since the internet completely shut down worldwide with no explanation and worked pretty much remote since the pandemic started.  This was a new experience.  

        As Brad handed me my order and I exited the cafe a sudden thought struck me.  I decided rather than taking my food home to eat I would walk to the park a few blocks down.  

        When I got there I saw an older man sitting at one of the tables.  He was just looking at the trees.  He seemed to smile through his mask at me and gave a little nod.  I gave a nod in return.  I sat at another table and began to unpack my bag but then I stopped.  I looked at the man.  He was upwards in years but I wouldn’t have called him elderly.  He seemed like he had seen a lot all the same.  But he seemed alone not because he wanted to be but because it was just how things were.  Like the world was just beyond reach because it was only safe from a distance.  I didn’t feel comfortable doing this and it was certainly something I had never done before but I packed up my bag and slowly walked up to his table.

        “You mind if I sit here?”

        “Please.”  The man turned around square with me and said, “Name’s Bill.”

        “Mike”, I replied.  

        “Beautiful day today isn’t it?”  I looked around the park and I had to agree.  “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Mike?”

        “What’s there to say?”

        I could tell Bill was smiling beneath his mask again.  “Plenty.”  

Poker Night

        It was a humid summer night.  The kind that makes you feel like you just accidentally walked into a steam room at the local health club.  Under the faint glow of street lights the trash pile stood impressive by the dumpster.  It was always like that on Sunday nights since trash day was Monday.  The humans had all retired to their homes to rest up for the coming work week.  Their fun and games completed for another cycle.  Now it was the turn of others to come out and play.

        “I see your half-eaten chicken wing and raise you a mango rind.”

        “You’re bluffing!  You always bluff.”

        “Ah but one who always says nothing but one thing is bound to be on the mark every now and again.”

        “Well, I guess one of these days you will actually be dead.”

        “Won’t we all be eventually?  Just because I am astute at pretending to be in a different state than I am does not make me a phony.  Besides who are you to complain always going around with that mask on.”

        “Whatever.  I call with a garlic bread crust.  It’s to you now, stinky.”

        “Do you grow tired of calling me that?”

        “Haven’t yet.  Does it bother you?”

        “Why would I be bothered by what I am?”

        “You think because of my mask I’m ashamed of who I am.  I just don’t choose to share myself with everyone like some individuals here.  Behind masks we can become whoever we wish to be without worrying about the scrutiny of others. I wager I know myself better than anyone here because I know what I hide and what I don’t.”

        “I feel as though I know myself quite well.”

        “Yea, we all know your scent a mile away.  Just get on with the betting already.”

        “Half eaten cheese burger.  You’re up.”

        “Finally.  I had enough time to give myself a bath while waiting for you all to stop your bickering.”

        “Sorry to bore you.”

        “Don’t play your false fronts with me.  And I was not bored but frustrated at your lack of comprehension.  You argue over who hides or knows themselves when we are all individuals with strong senses of self.  For one who yields must know how not to be trampled.  One who compromises ones self need be sure where the line is that separates them and others.  And one whose will has such lasting repercussions must have the discernment to know when there is no choice but to act.”

        “Thank you for acknowledging the fact that I always give ample warning before inflicting myself on others.  But I must ask what that makes you then?”

        “The one who balances all three.  My claws are not always out nor are they sheathed all the time.”

        “Then how about telling us which of us is the strongest if you know us so well.”

        “You have to ask?  Are you able to play dead with your nose too or has it been that long since you caught a whiff of our friend here.”

        “I disagree with that assessment.  Also I call with a nub of a cheesesteak.  I feel we are all the strongest for we are the masters of our own individual talents.  Strength comes not from potency but by mastery of thy self.”

        “So you argue that even though I have the ability to clear this area of humans if they were around I am not the strongest?”

        “Precisely.  For you also draw the most ire from those same humans compared to the rest of us.”

        “That’s why a mask works best so you can do what you need to do without someone sticking their nose in.”

        “ACK!!  Excuse me, hairball.  And you still miss my point.  You state you avoid scrutiny but you also stand out because of that very mask.  It does not bother you because you have learned to flourish in that mystery and use it for misdirection whereas others may shrink under it.  We all use what is most suited to us and by that very variety we have all thrived.”

        “Alright, enough philosophy for one night.  Let’ show our hands before my children are ready to leave the pouch.”

        “Mmmmm, you won’t hear any purring from me tonight.  This hand belongs to you, friend.”

        “See sometimes the one who just lies down comes out on top.”

Stop And Smell The Flowers

       The floral is so beautiful this time of year.  The reds, blacks, and teals look vibrant.  It’s so easy to get an up close look at the intricate textures and patterns when the flower buds are at eye level.  I can think of nothing more soothing than sticking my face right in them and letting the gentle aromas waft into my nostrils.  When the flowers are so tall that they are overhead and you can only see the underside you lose the full affect.  They are still pretty of course.  You notice how the petals all overlap in different patterns making each one unique.  Even though the species are less numerous than they used to be nature still found a way to give us variety.  In my humble opinion the floral is nature’s true artistic masterpiece.  That is where the heart and soul of the Earth lies.  

       That’s not to say there aren’t other wonders of course.  I know after the anti-matter incident everyone thought the world would just be a downtrodden wasteland.  The anti-matter rupture was reported to be worse than a hundred nuclear bombs going off when it first happened.  It was supposed to end everything.  Seems so silly now when you look around.  Although in fairness I understand how one could think that in the moment.  From what I’m told the Earth shook violently when it happened and there were storms like no one had ever imagined.  The coasts bent down and sunk into the sea all over the globe.  Shortly after people and animals seemed to get really sick.  But it all calmed down after about a year.

        The Earth adapted and so did we humans.  Sure changes had to be made.  Buildings had to be kept smaller because of the fierce winds that can come out of nowhere.  It would have been silly to keep those tall hallow mountains anyway.  The insects would be flying into them all day creating huge holes as they made their rounds with the flowers.  

        We used to travel in ships that flew through the air to get from one place to another based on what I’m told.  That had to go but we still get around just fine.  My understanding is that we humans became stronger and have more stamina so no harm done.  Trees used to grow up instead of out so we had to change the planning of our towns.  You used to be able to dig trees up and get rid of them but now, even if you could get through all the big thorns, you’d be at it for entire day getting nowhere.  They are all interconnected and go on and on.  

         The sky is a wonderful shade of lavender this evening.  I see the lizards circling overhead.  The plumage on their wings so colorful reminds me of the flowers.  They soar so majestically.  It’s amazing something so large can glide so effortlessly in the air.  A tree rat is sitting next to me as I write this.  The feathery cotton of his tail dances as he gnaws on a berry casing.  It seems like it is guided by some magical force unseen.  

         Well, I think that’s enough journal writing for today.  I need to be getting home.  I just got so caught up in the beauty of the blooms I had to write it down before I forgot.  But it is almost dinner time so I better get my four feet a moving.

A Festivus Unlike The Rest Of Us

        Stacy and Mark were walking together through the first snow of the season.  They dragged their sleds behind them to the park a few blocks from their homes.  It had the best hills in the neighborhood.  They were sure it would be crowded with kids like it always was.  Sometimes it would get so bad they would have to form lines.  Still they got up early to try to get in as much time as they could before the sunset so they were confident they would get good use of their sleds.  The shortest day of the year was only two days ago so they had to make sure every minute counted.  

        Once they arrived they went to the biggest hill and laughed and screamed as they went down.  They then trudged back up to do it all over again.  Each trip down the slope seemed as thrilling as the first.  As it got more and more crowded they would sometimes bump into other kids or have to steer their sleds out of the way of someone trudging back up the hill but it was still a great time.  

        As the sun started to get low in the sky Mark suddenly told Stacy that he needed to get home.  “What?  Why now?  We still have at least another hour of daylight”, Stacy pleaded.

        “I just have something to do with my family tonight.”

        “What some kind of holiday thing?  I thought you always said your family wasn’t big on Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or any of that stuff.”  Actually as Stacy thought back she always remembered Mark getting weird right before Christmas arrived.  In fact, ever since they met on the first day of kindergarten she couldn’t think of a time when she saw much of him the day before Christmas Eve.  Even if they had school he was always pulled out of the holiday party early.  She never really thought much of it and Mark would always say he just had something he needed to do.  But now it was different.  This was cutting into their sledding time.  It was the perfect snow for sledding too.  It was still early in the season but who knew how many more snow storms they would get.  

        “It’s just something I have to do with them tonight.  No big deal.” Mark shot back.

        “I’m your best friend.  I can tell when you're keeping something from me.  Don’t make me hold your face in the snow until you tell me.”

         “I have Festivus tonight, alright!”, Mark blurted out.  He immediately then looked around to make sure all the other kids were too busy sledding to hear him.  

        Stacy gave a quizzical look. “What’s Festivus?”

        “It’s just this made up holiday from some old TV show that my parents used to watch.”

        “That sounds….weird.”

        “It is that’s why I never mentioned it.  You can keep sledding if you want but I gotta go home.”

        “Na, I’ll call my parents and tell them I’m having dinner at your house tonight.  If you gotta go through this then I’m sticking with you.”

        “You really don’t know what you're getting yourself into here.”

        “I can handle it.”

        So Stacy and Mark packed up their snow gear and headed to Mark’s house.  Mark’s parents were delighted to introduce Stacy to Festivus.  Mark’s Dad showed Stacy the big aluminum pole he propped up in a flower pot full of rocks.  They then had Stacy write any grievances she had on pieces of paper and then helped her stuff them into a cardboard tube that was painted silver.  After they ate a delicious take out meal they broke open the tube and read everyone’s grievances out-loud anonymously.  Stacy was laughing at many of them but Mark just sat there with a sour expression.  Mark’s Mom then sat at the piano and they sang “O Festivus” together.  Then Mark’s Dad fired up an old gaming system and they each took turns fighting each other.  Mark made apologies for the poor graphics of the video game.  His parents had beat Mark’s older siblings as well as Mark and Stacy so it was down to just them.  Mark buried his face as his parents started to try and wrestle the controllers from one another.  When his Mom won and started doing a victory dance Mark ran up to his room.  

        “What’s with him?”, Mark’s Mom asked.  

        “I’ll talk to him”, said Stacy.

        Stacy knocked on Mark’s door.  “Go away!”, Mark growled from the other side.

        “It’s me Stacy.”

        “You too!  I’m too ashamed to face you.”

        “Ashamed over what?”

        “You saw what’s been going on all night.”

        “Yea, the best holiday ever.”

        Mark swung the door open.  “What are you talking about?  My parents are a joke.  They didn’t even cook a meal and there are no presents.”

        “True but they had fun together.  That’s what holidays should be about.  You know what the holidays are like at my house?  My Mom stresses over making sure ever inch of the house is neat and spotless before my grandparents come over.  They sit around talking about boring stuff while my Dad fixates on making sure we have enough chairs and how many cars are in the driveway. My parents then argue with each other about who sits where and how to prepare all the food.  My aunt and uncle then get drunk and start acting all weird.”

        Mark arched an eyebrow.  “And this wasn’t weird?”

        “Not really.  Your Dad explained that the aluminum pole symbolized that things are what they are and you yourself make them out to be what you want them to be.  And it was great to finally air out what has been bothering me all year.  Maybe I won’t loose it on my own folks over winter break for once.  It actually made me feel more heard than I think I have ever felt.  And the wrestling was just fun.”

        Mark shrugged.  “I guess.  I just wish I was like everyone else.”

        Stacy put her arm around Mark’s shoulders and smiled.  “You don’t want that.  What fun is being like everyone else.  So let’s go have a good time.”

        “Thanks, Stacy.”  Mark and Stacy went back down stairs to have a rematch with Mark’s parents and they all enjoyed their Festivus.

 The End

Touch of Loneliness

       When you write it is best to be alone with your thoughts.  That’s why years ago I decided to move into the mountains.  Solitude was my greatest ally.  Free from the distractions of others I was able to hone my craft exclusively.  Technology had gifted me the ability to still send my manuscripts to my editor and go over her notes without having to endure the comings and goings of so many random people.  It was easier for everyone this way.  Nobody ever got me or felt all that comfortable around me anyway.  Likewise I never got anyone else or felt all that comfortable around them.

        I had just finished my morning routine of a bowl of oatmeal and two cups of coffee.  I walked to my computer to begin my writing.  I always felt more creative in the morning.  I saved the editing for later parts of the day.  I had just laid my fingers on the keyboard when I heard a knock on the door.  No one ever knocked on my door so at first I ignored it as just my imaginative mind playing tricks on me.  But it came again.  

        I walked to the door and called out.  “Who is there?”

        From the other side came a deep gravely voice. “Just a man in need of a favor.”

        I hesitantly opened the door a crack and saw a well dressed but very elderly man.  He looked as though he was easily in his nineties.  “What is the favor?”

        “My car broke down about a mile from here and I need to call AAA.”

        “Don’t you have a cell phone to place that call?”

        “Never owned one.”

        “Well you should look into them.  They are quite handy for situations like this.”

        “Noted but can I use your phone in the meantime.”

        “Very well”, I grumbled.  I opened the door and let the man in.  He thanked me as I showed him the phone.  I noticed he walked slowly and wondered how a man at his age could make a mile trek.

        “You said your car broke down a mile from here?”

        “Do you think me a liar?”

        “You must be in very good shape then.”

        “I suppose you could say I get around alright.”

        I overheard his call and then silence.  I walked into the kitchen where he stood there staring at me.  I felt all of a sudden very awkward.

       “They said they won’t be able to get to the car for at least an hour.  Do you mind if I wait here?  My legs are quite tired.”

        I fumbled in my mind for an excuse as to why he couldn’t stay.  But couldn’t find one that didn’t make me seem like a complete jerk so I simply gestured my hand to the single kitchen chair I kept.  

        “Thank you”, the elderly man said between grunts as he seated himself.  

        “Would you like a glass of water or anything?”

        “Please.”

        I filled a glass and placed it in front of him on the small table I used to eat my meals.  I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I had seen someone in the flesh.  I even get my groceries dropped on my door step.  

        “Well, if you will excuse me I must get back to my work.”

        “And what is it you do for work?”

        I sighed heavily.  I wasn’t going to let this guy drag me into a meaningless conversation.  “I’m a writer and I have a deadline so if you will excuse me.”

       “How do you write about life when you are so far removed from it out here?”

       The nerve of this guy judging my abilities.  I quickly became quite perturbed with him and regretted even letting him enter my home.  “I get by just fine.  Thank you.”

        “Do you now?”

        “Look here you, I don’t know you and you don’t know me.  I’m gracious enough to allow you to take rest in my home but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some stranger criticize my talents.”

        The old man seemed unfazed.  “I was an artist you know.  Back before my hands became too weak to hold brush or pen steady enough.”

        “Would I have heard of your name?”

        “No.  I had someone else claim my art as their own because I didn’t wish to have to deal with people.  I just wanted to create.”

        Suddenly I found myself feeling somewhat empathetic toward the man.  Like maybe we were cut from more similar cloth than I initially felt.  “Then we are alike.  We both just wish to create without the interference of others.”

        “Oh I spent much time walking silently among crowds or sitting on benches observing others.  They were my inspiration for my art.  I just never knew how to make myself known to them.  They passed me by without notice but they always made a deep impression on me.  That’s the only way I knew how to communicate with them through my art.  Does that sound familiar?”

        I said nothing in response and the old man continued.  “Now look at me no one knows I even existed.”

        “They know you through your art”, I offered.

        “I suppose that will have to be enough but still it would have been nice to know more.”

        “What more is there to know?  I talk to people on the phone and the computer.  I touch others with my words.”

        “You will understand the meaning of touch when it is nearing the time of no longer being an option.”  I looked in his eyes and saw a deep sadness and longing.  It stirred something inside me that I couldn’t quite put a finger on.  “Thank you for your assistance today.  I think it’s best I get going.”  

         As he slowly made his way to the door I opened it for him.  A pang of consciousness started to boil up in my gut.  Perhaps this man was right.  Perhaps I had pushed people away and would regret it when I looked back on my life like he was doing now.  I didn’t own a car.  Nowhere to really go but I felt at least I could walk with him.  Ensure he got back to his vehicle safely.  I reached out my hand for his arm as he walked through the door frame but to my utter disbelief it simply passed right through him.  My jaw dropped and my eyes widened.  The old man turned to me and smiled.  

       “Thanks for the conversation.”  He then walked down the dirt path and faded into the air.

       I stood there for who knows how long trying to process what had just happened.  Was I going insane?  Had I imagined the whole thing?  My stupor was interrupted by the ring of my phone.  

        “Uh hello?”  It was my editor calling to ask me if I would be willing to set up a video conference with some other writers who wished to collaborate with me.  I took a long time to respond.

        “You still there or did I lose you?”, my editor's voice came over the phone.

        “No.  You didn’t lose me.  But let’s do it in person.”  There was silence on the other end for a moment.  My editor surely stunned.

        “You serious?”

        I looked at the untouched glass of water sitting on the table and replied.  “Deadly serious.”