Years later the fathers son found a photo in his memory box of the day they spent together on the beach. He smiled and closed his eyes to take himself back to the days when the weather was warm, he felt safe and when he was close with his father. The son felt terrible, he couldn't remember the last time he spent a day with his own father. He had become so busy with work and his new family. Later he called his father and planned to go to brunch.

A few years later his father passed away and he realized how much he would have regretted not making that phone call and how devastated he would've been if he hadn't seen his father before passing. The son went to the funeral and as they were covering the casket with the warm sand it took him back to the day he and his father were at the beach playing in the warm sand and all he could do was smile.

For about 3 years, Leah had stuck to the same routine no matter the circumstances. Rain or shine, she was running 3 miles around her street. She had never felt unsafe or threatened, so by now she was able to easily let her guard down when leaving the house. She lived in one of the safest areas in town, with their province's crime rate going down yearly. It was early into her run when she felt a bit of unease. This was quite unusual, because she had practically memorized this path and knew that she was fine. At first, she assumed the occasional crunching of leaves or sigh was just an animal, but as they grew more frequent, she began to sense that something was amiss. Feeling really put off by this whole situation, Leah decided to turn around and end her run early. But as she turned around, she caught a glimpse of a large, decrepit looking man who seemed to loom over her.

She felt so close to safety that she almost didn’t look behind her. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to spot the large bat that was coming right for her head. She also wouldn’t have been able to duck when the man that she identified as the head janitor at her school, started maniacally wielding his weapon at her. She, thankfully, was able to duck right at the knick of time, too, because he swung the bat with such force that he accidentally knocked himself to the ground. Leah took that opportunity to sprint inside and call the police. He was soon after arrested for stalking and attempted assault, along with a restraining order being placed on him by Leah and her family. After surveying his belongings along with security footage from Leah’s road, it had been revealed that not only had he been following her on every run for the past few months, he had much darker things planned for her if she hadn’t been able to outrun him.
A day before the incident Leah vividly remembered seeing a tall janitor almost everywhere throughout the school. She recognized his face from passing, and didn’t think much of it as there was so much going on at school that she didn’t really have time to consider it. One thing she does recall is the strange look on his face, as if he had something planned for her, almost grimacing at her. She had felt a little more on edge than usual during her runs for the past week, but just attributed it to the fall season and scary movies being shoved down her throat.

It took almost a year for Leah to be able to run alone again. Because of what had happened before, she had forced her father to run alongside her, in order to ensure her safety. Even after her culprit was jailed and put away, she was still paranoid about it happening to her again. That thought, that there were others out there like him, scared the living crap out of her. Even when she decided to go run alone again, it was for a much shorter distance and her father had to be watching from the front porch. She was now constantly armed with a taser, a small knife, and a rape whistle if need be. Although these circumstances were not ideal, it was a small price to pay, given what could’ve happened to her, had she not turned around on that fateful evening.

She was like a beautiful ripe apple

Glossy smooth skin

Red once you touched it

When bitten into,

The apple would still be as sweet as ever

And would only rot

If discarded of

And when she was thrown away,

The decay would start at the heart of the apple

Where it would spread through the veins,

Eventually affecting her shiny red skin,

Now discolored and fragile from the rot

And although rotten apples cannot be ripe once again,

After some time, she would learn to accept the bite marks

The soft, decaying flesh

The fact she couldn’t return 

To the same ripe apple she was once before

And she would start to ripen yet again

Almost as ripe as she was on the apple tree she grew on,

Where she was plucked by the very hands 

That later bit into her

And threw her core into the trash

Making sure to keep the seeds, so he could grow more apple trees

And produce more ripe apples

That would one day end up like her

And she would do everything in her power

To keep those other apples ripe

I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the groups you came in with, and the groups that left - the shifts in your life, the fallouts, the new faces that replaced the old ones. You came in with one crowd, laughing at your jokes, rushing to grab the best seats or to the vending machine.

The next year, half those faces were gone, and new ones trickled in, bringing new energy. I remember how you all seemed to change from one year to the next, your jokes getting a little sharper, your laughs a little quieter. You were evolving into something different, something older, and I was here for it.

The highs were great - those days when you and your friends piled in, full of stories about school, the newest drama, the new trends you were obsessed with. But I remember the lows too. I saw the fights, the sudden silences between you guys, the awkward days when no one knew who to sit next to. I watched you and your groups go through the motions of growing up. You started as kids who didn’t care for much but each other, just wanting to hang out. But suddenly, one by one, those carefree attitudes started dimming. You started getting more serious, the pressure to grow up dawning on you guys quicker than you were able to grasp.

And the friendships… they didn’t last forever. I watched you and your friends drift apart, sometimes with harsh words, sometimes with just a quiet distance that no one really spoke about. The group that once shared everything - secrets, dreams, ambitions - that slowly shrank, and eventually, I’d see you show up with just one or two people, the familiar faces that stuck around. But even that, even the ones closest to you, started to fade as well.

You don’t come in as often now. I still see you, sometimes - you might stop by to see if there’s anyone else hanging around, but still it’s different now, isn’t it? You’ve outgrown me. You’ve outgrown the games, the laughter, the carefree afternoons. You’ve become someone new, someone who doesn’t need me anymore. Life’s become too busy for this place, I can feel it in the air when you walk in now, a kind of unwillingness. A disconnection.

The others, the ones I used to see every day, haven’t been here in awhile. I remember when they stopped showing up. One by one they just drifted away too. And now the halls are quieter, the echo of your laughter is just a memory.

I’ve seen you change. I’ve seen you grow. And it’s time for me to let go too. People grow and they move on. You found new places to be, new ways to escape. And I’m still here waiting, as I’ve always been. I’m just a little quieter now, just a little more distant.

for god does not see the sinister or malicious acts made by his children, 

he sees the good in each and everyone of us.

He does not punish those for their acts.

instead, he forgives and provides a guiding light.

Heaven is like a mothers embrace.

 a warm, soft touch.

Nothing is heard but a slight, sweet breeze,

the sounds of violins played by the angels floats through the clouds,

a symphony of grace.

The echoes of loved ones silent whispers linger, 

along with occasional bird song.

A permanent sunset is displayed above the clouds,

shedding light on everything in its path.

Heaven’s golden gates stand firmly at its entrance,

all of those who have passed on enter at a leisurely pace.

Sonder remains.

For we are not just the main characters in our own lives,

but a background character in someone else's.

Though we all have separate stories, 

we all end up together in the end.

In heaven.

In and out of blackouts and in and out of my mind, cigarette always in hand and smudged dark eyeliner that just made me look pathetic. Wake up, still in my swivel bar seat or at some sad man’s studio apartment. I lived in hangovers, never sober. Recovery was for pansies who quit, who wouldn’t know what fun was if it smacked them across the face. The liquor on my lips, the hands on my hips. It was all so much but oh-so perfect. Perfectly overstimulating, in just the right way.