Skip to main content

New Year's Resolution

"I resolve to be the best man I can be."

Happy New Year!

M

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Trembling Hand

He had a deep-rooted fear of the sky. Wind scared him. Trees terrified him. A thunderstorm could practically paralyze him. He wasn't always like this.  Age often brings with it odd phobias. As the years pass, one witnesses many things, and makes a quiet mental note of all of them.  In time, those horrors from the past take root and blossom into full-fledged anxiety and panic.  Wind, storms, and even the trees - these made sense. One good storm could bring a tree down on his house. Or his neighbor's. He no longer had the strength to remove the trees, and didn't have the funds to pay a professional to do the job.  But the sky?  Even on a clear, sunny day - looking up at the sky caused dread. He noticed the deepening blue knowing that just beyond was the void of space.  Nothing was coming from there - was it? He wasn't concerned with aliens or meteors. He doubted a species advanced enough to reach us would want anything to do with us. A meteor large enough to ...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Bluesy Melody and a Scratchy Photograph

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't born in the mountains. Nor had he been raised in a cave. His appearance, though, often led people to think otherwise. A barber's chair was as likely a place for him to visit as the moon. I don't believe he had ever shaved. His hair, long and unkempt, looked even longer thanks to his seemingly endless beard, which was braided and knotted at the bottom. If unfurled, it probably would have dipped well below his waist.  His mannerisms and manner, while peculiar, were so only in that he was almost religiously polite. What at first glance might appear stand-offish was nothing more than his attempts at being inobtrusive. He was almost like some Appalachian monk, raised by a society trapped in the past, who occasionally ventured into town. He was extremely well-read and more tech savvy than most teenagers. Utmost, he maintained his privacy. No one knew just where he lived. He came and went at his own leisure, unnoticed by the world until he mad...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Blank Page

He'd been trapped in his house for five years.  Not imprisoned exactly. No court had ordered it. No chains held him there. His own body had simply staged a quiet rebellion and won. A series of health problems had reduced his world to a few safe pathways through a three-bedroom house in a respectable neighborhood with a respectable yard. He had once traveled the world. He had stood on foreign streets where he could not read the signs or understand the language, and somehow had felt less lost there than he did now standing at the bottom of his own staircase. The stairs terrified him. They waited every morning like a dare. Go ahead, old man. Climb. One wrong step and they would finish what time had started. So his life became measured in reachable things. The bathroom. The kitchen. The chair beside the window. The distance from the couch to the front door on bad days. The slow geography of decline. His wife still worked. Still moved through the world with purpose. They loved each othe...
Post a Comment
Read more