Long Overdue

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Hey guys! It’s been a little while since the last time I posted in here. Months on months, if I remember right. It’s taken some time to get settled in the new city and the new state and all that, but I’m here and surviving! Florida has had an entirely new set of circumstances and challenges, as well as blessings. Taking it day by day works wonders for any nerves or fears.

And here you go! My latest, humblest creation. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

He yawned, longing for the warmth and comfort of his sheets as he reached for bed. Pajamas on and bed beckoning, he checked his alarm for the morning as he plugged his phone in to charge. He rechecked his Facebook, and, after a few scrolls through the same timeline material that was always there, he took another look at his text messages, just on the sheer chance that his phone kept hidden one of his many fan mail messages. He smirked at this last notion, for the reality was that he would have to murder someone or win the lottery to be bombarded by his “fans.” Maybe that’s what he should do, murder someone. Or run off and get married to a woman he doesn’t know. Yeah, that’ll show them! What exactly it would show them besides his foolishness, he had no clue.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his phone’s clock. Sucking in a yawn and pushing it out with disgust at the realization of just how truly late it was, he yanked on the cord attached to the top of the blinds, sending them in a clattering sprint to the top of the window frame. Undoing the latch at its midpoint, he reached down and opened the window. He closed his eyes as he greeted the explosion of cool air into the room. Smiling, he kept his head close to the window a moment longer, savoring this late night treat. The cold, crisp air silently entered the room, stealing into his apartment like a ghost, unseen, unheard, but whose presence was as sure and as felt as the shirt on his back, of the bed pressed against his leg. The air, coming in and ventilating the overly stifling room, gently caressed his cheeks as it made its way in further. Tenderly, softly, and deftly, like a lover, the cold air stole his warmth. With this exchange of comfort and cold, the unseen welcome guest brought with it gifts, ones which he had been unprepared to take, but accepted all the more warmly once he realized what they were. In he breathed, slowly, deeply, like a person trying to immerse themselves in all the sights, sounds and smells of his home after not having visited for years.

Smoke, from a neighbors fire, was the strongest scent to him, and the favorite of those present by a wide margin. He smiled, remembering the multitude of times his senses had registered that smell, the numerous times he had been draped in its scent like an old, moth-eaten blanket. The memories flooded his thoughts, of all the camping trips he had been on, all the fun times at the lake, the bonding time with friends.

It is remarkable, the sheer power possessed in the tongues of vivacity called fire. It has the ability to shed light, with some fires being able to be seen from hundreds of miles away. It has the ability to be used to build, to create and to mold items, making an argument for its usefulness. However, we surely cannot mention its creating power without also mentioning its powers of destruction. Cities, houses, monuments, all laid to waste by that which helped to forge them. There is reason why the Christian God is referred to as “an all-consuming fire.” Take a look at the Judeo-Christian history for more proof and examples at how destructive fire can be. It can unite people around its warmth, unite them around the morsels using its energy to cook and become edible. It can unite them in a symbol of power, or divide them in a memory of the war and destruction brought to a group or another. Thus it is with no doubt or question as to the power of the memories evoked in that one captured moment, brought to life by that which helped him understand its gentle fragrance.

He walked over quietly to turn off the light, and then jumped into bed, curling up in his layers of blankets. As he leaned into his pillow, senses growing wary, thoughts becoming drunk with the euphoria of sleep, he smiled one last time. No, it was not in the anticipation of the next day’s busy schedule, or the blissful rest quickly approaching. No, he smiled because in that last moment as he pilled the blankets tighter, he was given one last parting gift before rushing off on his sleepy travels. He smiled, because, in that one moment, that which had entered and filled his room, silently unseen, softly pressed against him like sheets layering over him, like an ethereal blanket. In that moment, before his thoughts left him, the cold reached down and, like a lover, gently bent forward and kissed his head.

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