To Fall: To be born: Two lambs have fallen today....

Today….was such a day let me tell you.  Do you ever wonder about timing and connections?  Circumstance and Karma?  Whether one can dodge that bullet meant for them, or someone/thing unconsciously, as on an esoteric level, agreeing to take it for you?

I've always thought my mother and I had a connection via our ethereal bodies.  My health so often mirrors hers, especially when it comes to life-altering and major issues.  Almost simultaneously, or at least within days or at the outside a few weeks, I will 'inherit', for lack of a better term. her dis-ease.  What is this connection?  Mother-daughter?  Past life debt?  Or just dumb luck?  And if not, then why doesn't this occur with my other siblings, or father for that matter?  Why just we two….

To Fall:  To descend:  To move downward in response to gravity.
So back to today, the alarm goes off at 3:30 AM just like it does the other five mind numbing days in my week.  I stumble out of the bedroom, pushing the screen door outward into the huddle of pups.  I keep this door closed at night because two of the dogs are always trying to get into bed with me, which is a major no-no.  So they get relegated to couch for the night.

Now little Ott, well not so little haha.  Now Ott here, he feels he has to grovel for either Tuuli or myself constantly, him being the lower doggie.  If one is not available then the other can share his perfect devotional obeisance with the other.  I am always hearing the Tuuli growling off in the corner, and sure enough there's Ott's orange tail wagging a rut in the carpet.

Well this morning I was first to hand, lucky me.  Like I said, I stumbled out of the bedroom, on my way through the kitchen to the back door to let the puppies out.  Then HUH?  Ott wraps his entire body around my leg, slides down to lay completely supine on my foot, the momentum of which causes me to stop at floor level but continue on at stratospheric full throttle.  When what would arise before my blurry eyes?  But the corner of the kitchen island, wood and splinters, glass and chrome.  I was able to stop myself by throwing out my arm with the bad shoulder, wrenching it ever so slightly out of socket…..but the mess, the blood and skin I envisioned on the way to that gory destination did not manifest….thank somebody.

I look down at this most miserable of supplicants with a withered eye.  Not awake enough to shout, I nevertheless rally enough to balance his entire 70 pounds of dead weight on said foot and hoisted him one foot up and two feet out….fear can manifest such lovely adrenaline….Bam.

I take some live-saving ibuprofen (I buy the economy sized bottle haha) and head off to work.

To Fall:  To Topple:  To come to the ground suddenly and involuntarily.
My morning routine when I first arrive at the slave farm is to power up the equipment, unload all my daily supplies, then head off with coffee in hand to the patio for the early morning smoker's chatfest.  I used to puff away with these folk, not being able to go long without my nicotine.  And yes, I have quit for good, no worries there.  But these are friends, and since the urge is no longer present the communion will continue, 5:45 AM sharp.

The night crew has cleaned the patio this night, as they are want to do quarterly.  Hosed it down from the roof of the second story to the very slats in the drains embedded in the cement.  Nothing misses this deluge.  The windows are streaked with muddy rivulets, the furniture left dripping.  I'm disgusted and head off to the restroom to accumulate towelettes and plastic to sit on.  I walk thru the glass doors, turn left after crossing the large especially-for inclement-weather rug, and…..

I can't say I fell, that would be an inaccurate accounting.  It was more like a misplacement.  Normally you know when you are going to fall.  You do everything in your power to stop it, it's human nature.  In some cases it even appears that all things slow down to a second-by-millisecond crawl, and you seemingly have that extra few moments to look for any avenue to alleviate the rush of pavement, which of course you never find.  But no, this was ~one minute I'm walking~  to ~the next I'm looking up at all the dark glass glistening in the hallway, the parking lot high security beams bright and strident through the grey streaks.

And not a soul witnessed my downfall.  This is so incredulous when you consider that I work in a huge facility with at any one time an excess of 4,000 people.  This place humms 24/7.  And this took place in one of the busiest intersections in the building complex, one of THE busiest….so where was my choir?

I took stock of all my body parts, no broken bones or skin thank you thank you.  Slipped and slid my way over to the door jam and carefully crawled over to the rug to gain traction.  All things considered I have faired very well.  My first thought after regaining mobility was "Damn, I guess I was SUPPOSED to fall today!"

To Fall:  To come by lot or chance.
9:30 AM I get a call.  Oh god I dread these calls…my Mother…..damn she can scare the bejesus out of me sometimes….headfirst into a brick wall.  Tripped over one of those parking lot curbs.  Broken nose.  She is so fucking lucky the bone didn't come through it was that severe.  Broken kneecap.  Sprained wrist.  She looked like a truck had hit her then backed up and did it again.  And all I could say was something to the effect of

"To Fall:  To be directed, as light, sight, etc., on something"

The circumstances of all three…..so SO similar.  To be played out regardless of our efforts.  Was the attack intended for me and I diverted it?  Or did she call it to her stead?  For I fully believe it was a psychic attack.  To have all three be directed to our foundations?  Oh yes, a most determined assault.  Or was it to our family?  The matriarch and heir?  A perverted request for silence?  Oh you can be assured the shields went up round me and mine this day….

An afternoon

One afternoon………

My mother came over one day for a visit. She asked me to come outside to the truck, she had something for me. She took me around the back and pointed into the bed - there. She would not touch this object, would not even look at it. The truck bed was full of objects - what ever could she be talking about? I rooted around and came across an old license plate I had given her for her birthday - it was from the state she was born in and issued for the year she was born. This, I asked? YES, take it! Get it out of my life. It has brought me nothing but misery. My health has gone down hill since you gave it to me. She said she wanted me to clean it or whatever, but to never give it back. So I took the plate out of the truck and started into the house. NO, she yelled, I will not have it in the same space I'm in. So, I leaned it up against the stairs and we continued our visit, no other mention made of the license plate.

I completely forgot about the license plate for about a week. Then the next Friday afternoon I literally stumbled into it - what? Oh this thing, I need to clean it. I brought it up on the porch and went about my chores. The next afternoon I stumbled across it again - damn! OK, this time I will do it. I went in and got my smudge stick and sat down outside on the porch. I followed all the procedures and lit the stick. I tried enveloping the license plate in the smoke - the smoke shied away - what? I tried again - no smoke would touch the plate! It would flow naturally, and when it got within an inch of the plate, divert in a completely unnatural direction - what?

Now I was getting a bit angry. I started stabbing the plate with the smudge stick, yet no smoke ash or fibers would adhere - what? I tried from every angle, every side, every direction - still no luck. I started chanting - this was serious!

Suddenly the wind died down, the air grew still. The atmosphere got a little brighter. Balls of white light began to dance in the air before me. The very air sparkled.

Around the back of the house, a sound. What was it…. foot steps? I looked over the railing, the activity at hand forgotten. The sounds grew louder, closer. Something, god knows what, moved through the yard. I could see the leaves crunching, but no body, no shape. I could actually see large boot prints stepping down on the leaves - crunch! Its path ran right past the porch and off into the woods. I was frozen in the tableau. Minutes passed and I finally shook myself. The smoke was enveloping the plate! Every surface was touched, even those that were not in the smokes path. This is strange in itself, I thought. But no stranger than what had just happened.

The next week I spoke with my mom, and I told her a reader's digest version of what happened.

Oh, she said, I could have told you it was haunted.

????

I think it was an old farmer who died while driving and crashed his truck.

????

Only my mother……….

the twinkle in a moth’s eye

It began at 3 am-ish. A knock on the door. Now, most of you may not think this odd, but I live in the middle of 2 1/2 wooded acres, in a community of like properties, out in a bumpkinfied sketch frequented by deer, cow and coyote. My property is wrapped in wire, fence locked, animals on the alert 24/7 (well, except when they're asleep, but that's another story, hehe). Yet a knocking awoke. Not a loud banging, but one that ended with a shuddering scratch. It took a minute to remember that one of my adopted dogs, one that spent his time haphazardly faithful between me and his previous home, had failed to come in last night. I have tried in vain to plug up every available hole in the fencing with chicken wire (he is a Houdini, able to squeeze through the standard 4x6 ranch fence square, and he's not a small dog….gawd!!), but I look away for a flash, or come home from a trip, and he is outside the property….again.

Well, he decided 3 am-ish was time for bed I guess, and was demanding entrance to his nightly cookie and soft bed. Cheeky devil. Ordinarily I would be in a foul mood after having been woken in such a demanding fashion, but this morning the disconnection I spoke of made itself known from this first crack of the mindlid.

Routines were met, coffee was drunk, departure was planned and executed. I walked outside, high intensity flashlight trained on the driveway I had to walk up each morning. I'm not too worried about being ravished and what-not on this dark jaunt up the gauntlet (shadowy recesses flickering and writhing with the wind, disembodied sounds, spider webs) five days out of the week, not with the pack on the prowl and alert. So when something the size of an orange is seemingly tossed across the light's arc, to travel just outside its boundary, I was taken aback and slowly pondered to a stop.

I crept up, swinging the light's beam from left to right. There, on the ground up ahead about 3 feet. What the heck? It appeared to be moths in coitus, ha. Never seen that one, and here I thought I was a nature lover. Hehe. I started to walk around, when something caught my eye. A small light, in the vicinity of said moths. Oh good lord, I need to investigate. I edged closer, closer still, till I was standing right above them, a hazy apparition behind a light from up on high, like some mythical being. And there it was again. A twinkle. Perhaps from one of the moth's eye? Then they both swung their hairy little heads forward, and I spied two sets of feral beams……odd. Had I taken a step into Don Juan's nonordinary reality? I can remember another episode with the moths, a dance to the parabola, but that I'll leave for another eve's review. In any event, the remainder of the day would be the telling.

I continued on to work, the rest of the journey uneventful. I felt odd (there's that word again, but I know no other adjective that comes close) throughout the morning. I would be in the company of co-workers and friends, standing or sitting in usual proximity, camaraderie and connection disjointed. And all through-out the morning, I would get these little orgasmic rushes, the duration but of 15 to 20 seconds. I don't know how else to describe them. It was a heightened hyper sense, euphoric and at times embarrassing. Did they, my fellow bees, guess the guilty secret behind my blanked façade? God, I hope not, haha.

At any rate, I attempted many remedies to alleviate the sensations – a lap around the building, a trip to the outdoors, a meeting with friends that should have been animated, but which fell flat due to my non-participation and other-where-ness. The ever deadening routine of numbers and e-mails. I even tried a soda, thinking it was some type of ordinary-like gaseous episode. I finally admitted defeat and let the boss know I was out for the day. Maybe a trip around the city to run errands would succeed where nothing else could.

Now, I spend a fair amount of time riding the concrete ribbons around my corner of 'paradise'. Monotonous times, broken up by the seasonal flora, squashed and prayed at critters, wrecks and the ever present rape of the landscape by construction crews. In my part of the tri-county a new highway is being lain across the mural, snaking its way through the by-ways and forgotten lanes of which I roam, with the anticipatory compounds of useless enterprise that popup when there is a glee in the imaginary consumer's eye encroaching on my corner. But most times my eyes are drawn to the grasses fluttering in the breeze of passing vehicles by the sides of the rode. It can be hypnotic, and many a time choreographed by whatever music I happen to be listening to.

But today, something odd….yes, there, I said it again…..Odd. In most cases, when you are flying down the road at ungodly speeds, the real estate rushes TOWARDS you. In other words, you are traveling THROUGH it. A matter of perspective I know, but one which we humans cherish, if only for the semblance of normality. But today, the landscape traveled along WITH me. I thought perhaps I was sleep driving. I'm on the roads so often as I've said, I've seen some strange things through my numbed eyes. But no, this happened numerous times throughout the circuit. The ground, grasses, the ever present advertising billboards and rottage on the side of the road were traveling in the same direction as I. Is it only a matter of perspective? Or had I slipped beneath, around, behind the view held by the general populace?

I decided to look closely at this screen door held open for my perusal instead of flinching aside in shock. I would be brave and SEE that which I would normally flee from in fear, that fear of the unknown we as a species have grown old with. So I attended. I saw the terrain, hard and focused. Every blade of grass, its warpage and weft, the rise and fall of each stone. The contour of a setting that was unorthodoxically stationary. The feeling was of being escorted, path smoothed, the ride but a sit for an instant. But escorted to where? I went with the flow, let myself twist with the distortion. A lapse then occurred, one of miles, across arenas often viewed, through vistas wearily traversed. A lapse of a seeming wink….but of when did I go? The truck on auto-pilot, I tripped the light of the moth's eye, arriving home in one whole, albeit stuttered piece.
That little trip bares repeating.....

Good Morning

Morning, or what passes for such by my standards. 4:45 am, the long drive to work ahead. I walk through the first gate like I do every morning. Two gates to buffer, keeping my dogs safe from these insane drivers. Into the car, me and my stuff. I’ve started turning on my headlights as I drive up to the road and the outside gate so I can see all. Not a long drive, but on foggy mornings with no moon I can barely see the gate ahead. And the neighbors across the street have moved so I no longer have anyone to annoy.

I start up to the last gate, keys in hand, reaching for the lock, when off to the right….
The neighbors catty-corner from me had a country street lamp installed, city folk afraid of their own shadows. But the ring of light gave a view of…..what the heck?

Someone, thin and thinly dressed for this cool morning. A vest, leather leggings that only come mid calf.

What is that person doing in the middle of the road? Yoga? At 4:45 am? They are bent over from the waist, legs spread wide, hands flat on the road on each side of their right leg. Did I say hands….?

But wait….what are those? Nails? Whoa! Those are some long-ass nails, bejesus.
Then time stretches to a stuttering halt. A head lifts, turns. We are frozen in our mutual discovery, my companion and I. This does not look good….inner warning systems go on high alert. No, not good at all….Oh fucking god RUN! I dash back to the truck, slamming the door and locking it in one motion. Make sure the other door is locked! hurry! Hurry!

The image leaps across the road. Stops at the gate, confused as to this obstruction. It looks full at me, into the blazing headlights.

What is that on its face? It seems to be a mask? This visage that seems in perpetual stance of surprise. Then scant eyebrows lower in determination….and it leaps! Over the flimsy barrier. Jumping onto the hood of the truck in one bound, to squat and reconnoiter.

Then off the hood to the driver’s side, to me….to get at me….

And the screeching starts. A high pitched, burst-your-eardrum-if-it-were-to-go-on kinda noise, infinite and irrational. But there are pauses and fumbling between those notes. It does not understand the concept of doors. It becomes even more agitated, beating on the window, pressing its face to the glass, an eye searing me with intensity….

Enraged, it starts to shake the truck, shrieking madly. I finally stumble out of the stupor that is a prey’s first reaction. The phone! Call someone! I dig around and find the phone, grasping this tremulous lifeline to humanity. 911 !! answer! ANSWER!!

Then a voice – “911 What is your emergency?”

Help me! There is something…fuck what is this? The truck…claws…beak.
The shrieking reaches almost sub-sonic tones. Snarling and snorts, roars that denote engorged irritation ensue. The dispatcher, startled, asks what kind of animal is attacking me. I say it’s a MAN! Arms and legs. No wait….but those are not hands….and I did not mention feet.

CRACK! The truck starts to rock, the window threatening to break. I start the horn blaring. I yell out my address – PLEASE SEND SOMEONE! HURRY!

I throw the phone down without disconnecting. Oh why? Why don’t I own a gun?? I search through my bags. WAIT! I have a high beam flashlight I can plug into the lighter socket. As I fumble and drop the light, the chaos outside my window is becoming deafening. The dogs have become frenzied. Oh fuck! My dogs! I forgot about my babies! Be safe boys.…please be safe. But the thing is focused on me, it‘s elusive prey, not those that are more easily attainable. Thank you god whoever you are!

The light is finally plugged in and I aim that blinding ray towards the window – oh shit, I did not need to see that! Like a snapshot of a nightmare….

Then silence….I see it dart around to the back. Oh please leave the dogs alone! Then the truck dips and a THUD. It begins throwing itself on the back window. Scratching the glass in its narrow minded pursuit of me.

This goes on for I don’t know how long, me aiming the light blindly at any movement, it leaping and howling, scratching and trying to gouge the very fabric of my life. I’m surprised I haven’t woken the entire neighborhood by now. But as most houses around me have been vacated recently due to the economy, there aren’t many souls around to bear witness. And we are all set so far back off the road.

Someone….please….help me….

After an indeterminate amount of time the noise begins to dwindle. I hear heavy breathing, a rustling to settle, then an ominous silence falls.

Ok, we shall wait this one out Bubba. I have a full tank of gas, dawn is only 2 hours away. I can outlast you fucker.

Then headlights. I just realized that I hadn’t seen anyone drive by on their way to work. Holiday…everyone off to cook I suppose. I don’t know whether to be relieved that no one else will be the target of this maniac or upset that there is no one present to witness my demise.

Anyway, headlights slowly approach. Stop in front of my driveway. A man, tall and thin, opens door and steps out. Walking up to the gate, hand on holster. I crack the window, oh so small this crack. Don’t want those talons to gain purchase now. “I think it’s in the bed of the truck!” I yell. “Please be careful!”

As usual, humans, silly, puny, god-complexed because-I-have-a-gun humans, who just don’t grasp the horrors that co-exist in our world…this silly man, he does not believe. He tries the gate, a rattling that awakens my nemesis. A squawk. Screech of anger. Then it launches itself high over the cab of my truck towards fresh game. Shots are fired but even if they are hitting him/her/it my hunter is not slowed. No, not one bit. Screaming by all present, blood spraying the car. Whining and a tail thumping on the door frame….huh?

My eyes open to the worried look of 4 pairs of eyes, peering through the mesh on the screen door that separates my room from the rest of the house (hey! it’s the only place in the house I don’t have to share with hair!). I was asleep?? That was a dream?? Oh fuck…..thank you again whoever!

Even though it’s a few hours before my alarm is set to go off I know I won’t be sleeping anymore this night. I sit up, swing the legs over the side of the day and begin this morning.

All through-out the chores and coffee I have these images burnt into my mind. The creature frozen in some type of strange tableau in the middle of the road. Was it inspecting a bug, or some type of road debris? Then the talons, like those of a bird of prey. But the form was most definitely human, what wasn’t taken up by talon and beak. And the hair, if that was indeed what it was. It was swept up to the top of the head, all going against the grain, like some super hair gel gone concrete. But what most chilled my veins was the attack to my truck. The frantic beating and rocking…the screech. What the fuck was that thing? A mutant? A mad person set loose in the country like an unwanted dog? Or some type of elemental figure…a god perhaps? Come to explore and destroy? Conquer by carnage?

As I’m walking out the door I impulsively grab a high powered flash light, the kind used by emergency personnel. This light can be seen a quarter mile away. Yea baby! I so rarely use lights to make it out the house/gates anymore. My night vision is excellent, especially if there is a moon out and the sky is clear. And with the dogs prowling the property as soon as they hit the door I feel somewhat safe. But all I could remember was the fumbling for the light in the truck. How it seemed to drain the creature’s strength.

Ok, I’m through the first gate. So far so good. Headlights on I drive up to the main gate. I get out slowly, looking everywhere at once. Where are the dogs? Do they spot or smell anything out of the ordinary? No, no, everyone is calm and roaming. A sigh of relief and I open the second gate. Back into the truck to drive out. Now comes the tricky part – I have to get out of the truck again, out on the road, and walk up to the gate to shut and lock it. I have the light in hand trying to look everywhere at once. Done!

As I say goodbye to the dogs something moves swiftly out of the corner of my eye, off in the shadows between the side of the road and my fence. What was that?! I aim the light and….nothing. Gawd I’m on pins and needles hehe.

I walk back to the truck…what was that!!? On the other side of the road, in the ditch, I swear I saw…..oh fuck this I’m getting in the truck!

I dive in and lock the door in record time.

….thump