Buffer

… Is someone following me?

I think I can see them in the corner of my eye, they stalk me like a jackal.

The sound of my pounding heart overrides me, making me move into the alleyway.

I can’t stand it anymore, “Leave me alone!” I cry out.

As I back up to the wall; the streetlight over me begins to screech, covering me in ever-brightening fluorescence before it finally buffers into a ghostlight.

It’s dark now, and I am paralyzed with fear.

I can see a shadow on the wall, I begin to make out its face.

It’s me.

I feel my hand touch mine.

Silence.

Depart

Most of Austin’s memory had/had/had just started to depart.

Natasha has been beginning to fade,

Austin wanted them back -- A love now lost. 

Austin dared of resurrection. 

The thing is; 

Growing hope can’t be impartial.

The revival shattered, 

The art from the protest lies tragically sorrow in the dark.

Austin getting silent. 

Weeping scattering ashes. 

Hurting overnight. 

And the witchcraft witnessed.

Love wasn’t enough.

The Four Horsemen traveling en route to Austin’s house.

The Black Angels appeared and cut, crushed, scarred, divided, wired and carried Austin into The Forge of Blackstar.

Repose

Szymon walks her pilgrimage among the silver desert. Her follower, Alun, following her in her footsteps.

She stops for a moment to rest on a boulder, dark shadows sink deep below her eyes and her face has only gotten older. She sits in silence.

Alun enquires to Szymon; “We’ve been walking for so long now, Szymon. What lies ahead for us? For you?” Szymon, unmoving, replies “Pain, Torment, Misery, and then finally, Death.”  She rests her temple on her hands. "That's what's waiting for us in the end of our jouney."

Alun pauses to reflect on this response. “... So why?” he musters, “What’s the point?” Szymon then finally turns to Alun, looking at him directly; their eyes meeting, she speaks firm yet humbly: “Because it is my faith, it is my virtue, and it is my destiny. I must follow this path, for I know it to be good and true.”

The two sit in silence.

Couple

I had finally returned home. I stepped up to the door and I already got hit with

the waft of Penny’s cooking. I think it's a stew? Certainly smells savory. I open the door into our condo and step in.

“I got your papers, Penny.” I brought home a magazine she wanted.

She was over in the kitchen, standing over the oven and stirring something in the pot. I’m sure it’s this meat and potato stew she tried to make a while back, I hope she gets it right this time.

“Hm? Oh, just put them on the table!” and I did just that.

“You’re making that stew again?” I walked up and hugged her, “Y’know, I

would’ve preferred a wife that was a little bit better at cooking...”

She smiles, “We can always go back to *your* cooking if you don’t like mine, Joe.”

“Uh huh, yeah, like we’re doing that.” The both of us chuckle a little.

“...Are you doing anything different this time?” I ask. It definitely looked better, I felt a little bad for saying she wasn’t a good cook.

“I’m actually trying to stick to the recipe this time, I’m hoping it turns out better.”

I look over into the pot; a boiling brown broth with chunks of meat and potatoes floating around. Already looks much better than the weird beige it was last time.

“Oooh. Looks better already!” She seemed to glow a little more when I said that, I’m glad that she’s in my life.

Slip Born

I drive in my old town; my home, the lake I used to live by.
It’s comforting to me — nauseating, it’s pulling me apart. The view is sereine.
I drive around in circles for hours, watching as daylight coasts into the orange night as I circle the crystal lake.
I, numbed and mindful, time the moment I let off the pedal, and allow for my car to decide for itself as it coasts into cyan sea.
In the moment of truth, I slip into subspace.