Nightmares and Dreamscapes...

I was running as fast as I possibly could. Each stride burned more than the last, every breath seared pain into my failing lungs... If there was one thing I knew, I knew I wasn't going to make it.

The faster I ran the more narrow the gap between us became. I was beginning to realize that there was no way I could keep this pace up, and that even if I did, there was ABSOLUTELY no doubt I would soon be caught. And when that happened, well, I would definitely be too worn out from all the stupid running to do anything worth a damn.

So, that was it then... The decision was practically already made for me, I had to turn and fight.

I felt like I was ready, kinda. Once upon a time a very wise man said to me, "running from it will not save you." Why the fuck not? WHY?!! Jeez...

... Stupid wise man, stupid wisdom, stupid ellipses...

FUCK!

And so then, distracted by the wise man's ridiculous proverb and the world-deafening terror slowly closing in on me, I tripped. And not one of those... "Foot-gets-caught-while-walking-look-back-like-there-was-something-crazy-on-the-ground-and-find-out-your-clumsy-ass-tripped-over-nothing" kind of trips. I'm talking a "full-on-chin-and-right-arm-skin-peeling-home-plate-stealing-slide-across-bare-cold-flesh-ripping-concrete" kind of trip.

My exciting counter-attack strategy was crushed in a mere half-moment's clumsiness. I was doomed.

As I laid there, awaiting my tragic fate under the diminishing half-moon light, my executioner sauntered into view. The weapon in her left hand now seemed more like a jagged sword than the switchblade I thought I saw earlier. And, as I watched its reflection glimmer toward me through the darkness, with nothing left inside me but fear and bad judgement, I closed my eyes.

I felt her kneel down beside me, heard her hot misty breath tumbling toward me through the cold night air. I opened my eyes.

She was beautiful.

Her hair bounced around her head in wild coiling ebony ribbons. Her smooth bronze skin shimmered invincibly under the evening stars. And her eyes... her eyes were like two glistening pools of infinity, echoing her lusty intensity at me through the soul-consuming darkness. 

She leaned even closer. Then, looked deep into my eyes... and stabbed me. And stabbed me. And stabbed me.

I tried to move, but the stabbing... It’s just really hard to move when you’re getting stabbed, trust me on that. It's the worst.

My beautiful murderer looked down at me laying there, leaking vital life essence all over the disgusting city sidewalk, parted her lips coyly and said, “Stocking up and saving more on the things my family needs. That works for me!”

*sigh*

I hate falling asleep with the TV on.

For me, it was a Tuesday.

I step onto the train and surprisingly enough, there's barely anyone in the car. Surprised at the unlikely chance that I won't be fighting for elbow room the entire commute, I swiftly head to an open seat.

Then something happens, something awesome, something perfect. Something awesomely perfect.

A woman steps into the train. I spotted her from the other side of the car. She literally froze me in my tracks (Yes, literally, I definitely felt goosebumps.) A sun-kissed temptress with whose presence I simply couldn't deny myself. There was something about her that I wanted to know. Something about her I needed to know, and I needed to know it... now.

I noticed she was reading a book about the life and times of Nat Turner. How amazing is that? I just so happened to read the same book a couple years ago. Maybe we could talk about it together. I was overcome with curiosity. Like, how did she find out about the book? Where did she pick it up at? Does she read anything else from Kyle Baker? Hmm, maybe not that last one...

I know it's a stock photo, but she was too fine to pass up.

As she gracefully flipped pages, I couldn't help but notice her hair. A beautiful shade of the darkest brown, it was pulled back into an impressive puff with curls that spiraled out to the sun, shining out onto the rest of us like some kind of beautiful afrocentric corona.

I moved closer. She licks her lips, a pouty perfected blend of soft and supple, right before she turns each page. "What a neat little tick", I thought to myself. I wonder, does she read often, does she only do it on the train? She looks like she's smart, but then maybe that's just because she's holding a book right now. Well... probably.

Then suddenly, something else happens. The bell rings, the train door opens and she begins to look around. I feel her watchful gaze creeping slowly around the car. I look up and our eyes meet, and the connection is felt instantaneously.

She doesn't turn away. So, I close the gap. 


I conjure up the smoothest, coolest Et Cetera I've ever been able to manifest in my life, and break the silence. 


"Hi, I noticed your book. How long have you had it?"

She turns around flashing those beautiful pearly whites at me and unrepentently plunges a knife deep into my heart, deftly twisting it, and ripping it from my chest. She then proceeds to do some kind of river/Lion King-musical dance all over it in front of everyone on the train.  And, as the life slowly bleeds away from me onto the sticky subway floor, I somehow manage to sputter out, "Well... a-a-at least... it was a quick death." 


And then I died.

*sigh*

Only I didn't. I only wished I did. You see, I may have embellished a little on that last part of the story. But seriously, only a little. What actually happened mostly involved her looking at me and giving THEE most uninspired exhale I've ever heard in the history of my life, and exclaiming to the unlistening air around her, "I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIIIIIIT!!!" She then put on her headphones and promptly pivoted a complete 180 degrees away from me.

See? 


If you ask me, that's basically the same story.