2:53pm

My mind is a weather vane, going in which and every direction the wind blows. I can’t do anything to stop it, it’s too high for me to reach. My thoughts are unstable. My confidence is flimsy. What was once built with bricks is now held up by sticks tied with sneaker-laced knots.  A simple decision like which pair of boxer briefs to wear, takes minutes when it should only take a second. I change my shirt five times before I even leave the house. Don’t ask me why since I have no one to impress. I don’t because I ceased to exist three years ago. Three years ago from this very day.

It was a warm and sunny Sunday. Though it sounds like the opening to happy story, it couldn’t be darker. There was nothing different about that afternoon, but before the short-hand struck III on the clock everything would change. I wasn’t there, but I might have well been.  Seeing it on the news, reading the police report over and over again left a permanent image. A bad movie stuck on replay, no stop button to push, no power plug to pull.
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Still Kickin’

Sorry for the disappearance, people. I’m still kicking, I not buried in a snow bank somewhere. Needed some time to focus on some other projects (still do) so I couldn’t get my mind into blog mode.

Thanks for continuing to check the site (much appreciated) and don’t stop. New posts to come soon.

-Vic

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The Darkness

It’s a moonless night. The room is pitch black, illuminated only by the dim red light from the clock on the nightstand. Quinton lay asleep on his queen size bed. He looks peaceful resting on his back, head slightly turned to right, covered up to his waist by a single sheet. A loud knock at the door awakens him from a deep sleep. He looks at the clock. 3:03 am. He looks puzzled, wondering why someone would be knocking at his bedroom door this time of night. He stares at the door awaiting another knock. “Quinton” the voice behind the door says, sounding more like summon. He recognizes his roommate’s voice and says “Yea, come in.”
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