Out Of The Light Appeared The Darkness

The following is a piece of fiction and was not intended for any particular person.

“Child’s Play”

He whispered her name twice softy, waiting for a response
“Gabrielle, Gabrielle my love are you awake?” No reply.
He complicated his decision to get out of bed for breakfast, when he realised his hand was still around Gabrielle. He waited another several minutes before finally making the assumption she would wake up.

After a few minutes of birds singing in tune with one another, Gabrielle finally rose from the bed, gave Jacques a peck on the cheek, then proceeded to enquire about his concerning and distressing facial expression.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long, last night was fantastic we should do it again sometime although this time without the formalities…You looked stressed, what’s wrong?”
Her curiosity started running her mouth.
“I mean, what happened last night? We enjoyed ourselves, had a few glasses of their finest wine…I don’t underst-…oh, was it that tall man in the pinstripe suit? Don’t worry about him honey, he was a jerk”
Jacques anticipation over-powered his conscious.
“No, No, No! We’ll talked about it later I’m hungry for breakfast, Matthews is making pancakes with salad and yes, it was that man that annoyed me but I’m not going to let it affect me”

At the breakfast table Matthews prepared the meals and promptly left the room to continue his house cleaning duties.
“Is it nice dear?”
“Yes, isn’t it always?” replied Gabrielle.
After a mouthful of salad Jacques explained the current status of his employment.
“You know that merger that my boss wanted me to push? I said to him I need more time for family, you can’t keep me locked in my office like a lab-rat. So he agreed and now I have a month off. Isn’t that great?”
Gabrielle looked directly into his eyes and simply opened her mouth gently. “Yes”
Jacques finished his breakfast and took the plates from the table and then started washing them. “I guess this means I’ll have more time for the kids”

Midway through the evening Jacques went upstairs to the children’s bedroom.
“Edward, make sure you clean up after you play with your toys. You don’t want them to get dirty because you can’t play with them later.”
Edward began protesting.
“But dad, Violet said she would play with me and she didn’t. I wanted her to play with me, it’s not fair and I always play with her when she wants me too.” He said almost in a whisper. Jacques lifted Edward onto the top bunk-bed. Violet by this time was asleep on the bottom bunk.
“Edward my boy, that’s life, sometimes you don’t get what you want…Maybe Violet and you could go to the park and play there together?”


Edward pulled up the doona and rested his head on the pillow. “No”
“What do you mean no?” Jacques was surprised now; he had never seen Edward act like this before.
“I don’t want too”
“She’s your sister and you only have one”
“No… I like it here better, it’s safer… None of that dirty stuff you find in the park” Edward spoke with triumph.
“Ok but what will happen when your sister wants you to join in her games?”
Jacques was now trying to pierce his argument.
“I’ll think about it, and then say ‘maybe’ if she plays a game I like then I’ll join her”
Jacques conceded.
“We’ll talk about it more in the morning; you have a big day tomorrow, your back at school”

Jacques headed out of the bedroom, paused at the doorway looked back at Edward and thought. *You know, when you’re a bit older you’ll learn to love your sister very much* He paced himself down and up the stairs to collect his paperwork and brought it to his office next door to the children’s room, he wasn’t getting any younger.

He logged on to his computer and brought up the search engine. He typed in ‘puberty.’ To his amazement, he sat quietly flicking and scanning over pages of FAQ’s over this topic. Jacques always enjoyed the quiet time he got, ever since he got his new job at the firm he rarely had time for his wife, kids and more importantly himself. After an hour or so, he logged off and crawled into bed beside Gabrielle . He whispered to Gabrielle;
“The kids… the kids grow up so quickly…it wont be long before the kids have kids of there own and we’ll be much older”
Gabrielle agreed. “And forgotten…”

To the girl I never knew.

I was sitting on a bus. My old school bus, but nothing changes. The same driver, the engine makes the same the sound, the same roads are taken and even some of the same people are taking their usual spots. I don't usually imagine another driver, different seating arrangements, alternate sounds or different paths. I took all these things for granted. To go further, I relied on my hearing to hear the engine, my eyes to see the passengers and my touch to feel the vibrations of the locomotive. All of those things I took for granted. The fact that I was breathing on that bus, sharing the air with those people and experiencing the same thing, I took it for granted. It seemed like something that's there forever. It was a simple bus ride.

What if it crashed? What if someone died? What if something really insignificant changed? Like the sound of the engine…would I notice or even miss the old sound? Would the experience be any different? One small thing can literally change our world.

So I was on the bus and my friends regurgitated some news for me. It was about a guy I was fond of. I knew him, a lot of people did. He was in a band and I had seen him at so many places and I could only pluck up the courage to speak to him once in my life. I didn't know him well, I always wanted to though, he had the trait of a mysterious figure that made me long to know more about him crossed with the look of typical teenage apathy that gave me the impression that he was just like everyone else in the room; even me. But he still sparked an interest deep down no matter what I've heard about him.

Before I dive into the deep end with this story, remember that this is gratifying information and a lot of it could be twisted, nevertheless, I'm sure that the conclusion is so surreal that you have to question if these events can actually happen to you.

He had a girlfriend, from what I heard they were happy. They were the teenage couple who were going to be together forever. And there is nothing wrong with that. There is a feeling about a teenage love that makes you feel like you have found exactly what you were looking for at that moment in time. It's grace. It's as if it is too good for you to have but you are lucky enough to have it. Maybe it was for putting up with everything at home, the fights at school and the fact that no one understood you. Solace and sanctuary could be found in a soul. And for him that soul was awaiting his arrival miles away.

He traveled, quite literally, from the bottom of the country to the top waiting so long to see her. He assumed everything, he imagined everything they would and could get away with. They were both waiting for this moment. A meeting between two vacant souls to stifle each other so they could never feel alone and unknown again.

He got off the plane trying to collect his excitement and put them into the words he rehearsed days before. He was ready, until a phone rang. Phone calls, like bus rides are something we just assume have little to no importance in our lives whatsoever. But phones, like bus rides can change our lives in a matter of seconds. News was delivered to him that the soul he had traveled so far to see had lost its light.

A car accident. An unfortunate car accident. Another statistic. A lover. A death. To me the worst thing about death is what it can do to the living. It was never about where I was going but what I was leaving behind. And to this day I want to take it with me, I want to take it all with me.

He was cold. He was alone. He was unknown. He felt as if he fell short of something that everybody else around seemed to have, yet too senseless to know what it was. He was breathing just because he was alive. But he didn't feel like living. Not today. It's like a limb torn from his body. A whole limb. How can you function without a limb…did you even want to function? He was still here, but where was she? What was she thinking about right now?

(This is a true story, I had written this blog a long time ago and I have asked for permission to post it. So thank you to those people for taking the time to read it and allowing me to post it.)

When The Balloon Can No Longer Take Any More Air.

Ever wondered why we get sick and tired of each other's nonsense?

It came to my recent attention that necessary fixation to hold and analyse onto what people say now becomes a time-consuming exercise. Apart from the occasional lament day-dream moment, people would be foolish not to believe a day goes passed without pondering a person comments and what they meant by it.

A typical mindset might be to shrug away those off-the-cut remarks. But what happens when it all gets too much? When the person you love, your friend, your family member just pushes you until you explode and then, in an instant, you become the troublemaker. The person accused of dealing out punishment and unjustified speech about a person who, in the first instance, struck the balloon in our minds that pops after unequivocally destroying the void of peace.

How would you move on? Blow-up another balloon and start over with the person? Or condemn them until satisfied they have redeemed worthy respect?

Once Again,

The Mind Wobbles...


A good life lasts for a generation,
A good name lasts forever...

- Japanese Proverb

Don't Let Go

No one can have their cake and eat it, too. We are not just having our cake, my love. We are sitting here in the candle light, hiding here in the dark, digging our arms up to our elbows in lucious chocolate syrup and smearing jam and cream over our faces.
One day, one fine day, my delicous friend, someone is going to notice the crumbs on your chin. Someone is going to comment on the wildberry sauce on your sleeve.
The difference we can make now is to chose, and to chose now to stop. Or if not stop, then limit our appetite to the occasional brandy snap. Or if not stop then...

Does the word 'marriage' frighten you?

This is not a wise choice, but an essential one. Because those living on dry bread and tepid water will protest, loudly, if they found out what we are supping on in here in the dark.

Go now, my deluctable love, licking your fingers and wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist, and do not return unless you plan to give me that shiny band of gold that would make our feasting so much less abhorrent to our associates.

When the world crumbles like a cookie

A monstrous wall of ice in the arctic circle.
Etched with the years of the tides and the world's history.
Similar enough to that of a persons life.
Although short lived, knowledge comes flooding in with every event in your life.
If you have a bad accident, you are careful next time you're in a similar situation, so as not to get hurt.
If you get lost on your way to a party, you learn your way next time you travel to the same location.
The ice shelf in the arctic has no choice to how it collapses like a paraplegic in therapy.
Crashing into the freezing pure water below it. Erupting waves and destroying life as we know it slowly.
We have choices as to how our life comes crashing down. Crumbles to pieces like a dry cookie in your clenched fist. The same fist that curls whenever you think of your anger. Your nails digging into your palm, ripping up the skin like it's a block of cheese.
Unfortunately, the mistakes that we make can be catastrophic. Some part of our life might seem blissful. The happiest era you've had in your personal cocoon. And other parts seem to diminish or alter drastically. Just like the world we live in.
Who's to say that everyone is happy? Who's to say that no one has any problems? Who's to say that one heart shouldn't hurt, one mind shouldn't sting and two eyes shouldn't bleed tears onto the shirt of someone who gives a damn?
Answer my riddle, and feel free to have my trust back. Rebuild my wall of ice and preserve the entity of friendship within my arctic circle.

“Failure - When your best just isn't good enough.” -Larry Kersten

i have never felt so petty to somebody in my life. i stood before someone so high above me that i felt like i actually might be better off below the ground. there is less heart strain involved in giving up right there at that moment. am i that frivolous?

i walked into this mans office and he had an entire wall dedicated to his books on life and anything relevant to life. what shocked me more is that he possessed the bragging right to some of these books (a whole shelf) because they belonged to him. he was the author.

with him was this opulent-looking lady who wore that critical, yet artistic frown that anyone proud and narcissistic would have. she too, was an author. now probably everyone of you on here know that what i want more than anything in my life is to see a book with my name on it on a shelf at a bookstore at some point in my life.

theres a lot of words to describe how i felt in that office. like 'naive', in the ways i thought i could be seen at eye-level with the caustic man before me, or unworldly, the inexperience of living a life, but the one that stood out for me most was 'stupid'. I felt so stupid to allow myself to believe i could get to something so easily.

but it made me wonder. did that man or even the woman begin as me and with my thoughts? we're they born genius? was i born anything less than that? i just want to share to people what i have to say, and by meeting these people it felt like all my questions to my life were trivial. that maybe i should just stand down and realize im not as great or capable as i originally thought i was.

walking out there, i felt a defined numbness and an apathy towards my future ambitions. what i dont understand is how can someones presence pirece through all of my dreams so easily? a persona that can make others feel far more inferior and unimportant. he was a prideful, egocentric man and i was just a boy who wished there was something he could give to the world.

this realization has a lot to do with growing up. nothing is easy. but can something truly be too hard, too far or too unrealistic? is this what separates the logical from the dreamers?