Tag Archives: drabble

[A Story & A Song] House of Seasons

Song and a story-house of seasons

Dedicated to all of you who keep pushing forward.

There’s a house I like to visit. It sits at the end of the road. There’s nothing fancy about the place, itself.  It’s a standard ranch home, one floor, a garage, two doors – front and back – but it’s still my favorite place to be. I like to call it the “House of Seasons” because it constantly changes. Everyone else on the block, their lawn is evergreen. The bushes never bloom, but they never wilt, either. The trees never lose their leaves, no matter how cold it gets or how hard the wind blows. The porch lights are never on when kids are trick or treating, and the Christmas decorations are there one day and gone the next.

The House of Seasons though…sometimes the yard is the brightest green you’ve ever seen. Sometimes it has dead spots. Sometimes the bushes are abloom with bright red and yellow flowers, sometimes they’re nothing but twigs. I’ve seen the trees go from tall and strong, branches reaching for the sky, to almost rotted completely through in the space of a single hour. Sometimes the entire house looks like it’s been attacked by spiders, cobwebs wrapped around it so tight, there’s no way of telling if the bushes decided to bloom that day or not. Sometimes the entire yard is dead, and there are holes in the sides of the house. The wind makes an eerie sound when it blows through the neighborhood on those days.

But there is something interesting about that house. No matter how many dead spots in the lawn, or holes in the walls; no matter how dangerously those dying trees creak and sway in the wind, the front door? Is always open. On Halloween, the porch light is on. Christmas lights go up the day after Thanksgiving, and don’t go down until after the New Year has come and gone. Every year, the owner throws out all the stops. Sometimes the cobwebs hide the decorations, sometimes only half of the lights work, but anyone passing by can still see that a lot of care has gone into the work.

I think that’s why no one else in the block likes to talk about the house. Because they can tell that work does go into the house. You see, everyone else is so concerned with keeping up appearances, and go to such great lengths to hide any imperfections, they don’t stop to think about the people who are able to peek over fences.

I’ve seen the backyards of my neighbors. Festering cesspools fill half of them. The other half are either overgrown with weeds, empty, or so full of dead spots, no amount of fresh grass seed will ever fix it.

I’ve seen the backyard of the House of Seasons. I have seen a garden that would put Paradise to shame.

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With Friends Like That…

Random bit of brain-droppings (as a friend called it)


“This is all your fault!”

My best friend slid into the booth next to me and signaled for the waitress blithely. “My, don’t you look cheery today. What’s wrong? A little too much urine in your breakfast cereal of choice?”

“My dog is dead; my wife has left me; my family is two heartbeats from disowning my ass; the family preacher won’t return my phone calls; and it is All. Your. Fault.”

“You don’t know he’s dead…he probably just ran away.” My friend didn’t even bother looking at me. “Your wife has, literally, slept with just about every man in town, and half the women; your family are a bunch of hypocrites, and your preacher is a sanctimonious prick.” He shrugged. “So even if it were somehow my fault, and I don’t see how it possibly could be, you should be thanking me, not glaring at me like you’re measuring me for a coffin.”


In other news, ETLAN is coming along great. Finally got the rewrite done for chapter 4, and the editing is done for up to chapter 9. Yay for progress!


Sometimes, you just need someone to be there. Someone to hold you close, take your face between their hands, gently kiss your cheeks to hide your tears from the few who care enough to look ((but not enough to just be there)).

When your mind is broken, and your heart is screaming; someone to shake you out of it, to still your hands on the blade, to let you shout out your anger while clinging, helpless and sobbing, raging against the flesh and blood cage they’ve wrapped around you.

Someone to whisper, soft and urgent, “It’s alright, you’re going to be ok, so please…don’t cry anymore, ok? it’s not over yet, the world hasn’t ended..you can make it, if you just hold on.

Someone to give you that needed extra bit of reassurance that you just can’t give yourself, and understanding that when you snarl in reply, violently pushing away the helping hand, it’s not because you hate them; but because you hate yourself for needing someone so badly.

sometimes you need to be weak.
You need to let yourself need someone.
just like that “someone” needs you to be weak for them.


I took a walk last night. And I felt it again. the overwhelming feeling that I was being watched. Stalked almost. Like I’m the victim in a blind and ignorant game of ‘cat-and-mouse’. I don’t know what it is that tracks me, but I know it’s there. And it knows I feel it.

In fact..it seems to me that it wants me to know it’s there. It wants me to feel its overwhelming presence and wants me to know that there’s nothing I can do. You can’t fight what you can’t see, just like you can’t hide from the all-seeing.

Why does it follow me? What have I done to catch the attention of this force? and most importantly…How do I escape it? What can I do to avoid the fate it has planned for me?

I can’t think, I can’t see, I can’t dream anymore. It keeps pace with my every move. It forces me to hide behind walls again..and then laughs as it steps through them like they were nothing.

I’ve hidden from this world and the worlds beyond for so long, that I’ve forgotten how to live. I’ve forgotten how to fight to live. And now I’ve forgotten why I chose to live again.

And now..the darkness is still there. Lurking inside me. I feel it shift restlessly within my chest..freezing me from the inside, hiding just behind my breastbone. I used to think it was my imagination. But now I think I get it.

The darkness within…the force that haunts me…the blinding fear that threatens to overcome me. It’s all the same to me..it’s all the same…

And now that I’ve put this into words..I suddenly feel so cold. A frost is burning inside. The restless stirring from before seems to be gaining strength. I feel that I should be shivering from this internal freezing..but I’m not. Not even a goosebump to mark the path these icy fingers trace.

What’s happening to me? this internal ever-winter piles layers of snow onto the seeds of hope I had foolishly allowed planting of, choking the life out of them…and me.

who can live without hope? who can live without dreams? who can live with the knowledge that no matter how much effort you put into something, no matter how much of your heart and soul you put into words, to be immortalized forever…eventually everything must die. no one lives forever, and one day all languages will be obsolete.

say goodbye to living forever.


What do you do when your world has collapsed around? Do you cry? Scream? Lash out at the walls around you?

What do you do when you realize that the walls around you are the arms and the prayers of the ones who love you? The pillars to the ceiling of the universe beyond your world? Do you let them dry your tears? Do you hold onto them while they let you scream out your pain? Or do you lash out at them again?

What will you do when you are left with no walls? Nobody who cares? No arms wrapped around you at night? No kisses to soothe the hurt?

What will you do when I can’t take the blame anymore, and leave you to your suffering?


She wondered.

His body was warm and firm behind her back, the arm slung over her waist held her just close enough to keep her with him, but loose enough that she could leave if she wanted.

But that would ever happen. she loved him, adored him, needed him too much to ever go.

She was thinking of the late nights, the missed calls, the cold spot against her back when ‘I’m sorry baby, I know we had reservations, but what can I do? It’s a really important case.’ happened again.

She entwined one hand with his. Saw the shining band of gold on her finger and his and wondered when their vows came to mean so little to him.

She splayed her other hand against her still flat tummy and wondered if the new life she carried would bring him back home…or drive him further away.

She watched the night turn to dawn and wondered what he saw in her. Was it the same thing that had drawn them together? But no, it couldn’t be. ‘It was love at first sight.’ he told her. Surely one didn’t fall in love like that more than once in a lifetime.

She wanted to ask him.
She never would.
It didn’t really matter, after all.
The child probably wasn’t his anyway.