The Prosecution Rests

The last night before my life ends seems to be a good time for my final confession. The jury thinks I am guilty; they may be right in the light of the facts put in front of them. But what about all the facts that they don’t know, what about the one thing that I have kept telling myself all of these years. With these thoughts in my head I picked up the pen and cramped on the lower bunk of my prison cell I began to write, “I am Alan Dickson and did what I did for love…”

It was the year 1864. Times were hard in Johnsonville, a small town outside of Kentucky. The town was rich and the population mostly snobbish. Even after two years of the Emancipation Proclamation they were biased against the black population and they were still slaves to them, still cheap labor but the blacks had had enough, they were now stirring, peaceful protests were starting, they wanted their rights and they wanted them immediately. The whites hated being contested but more than that the whites hated to lose; they were starting to rise too. Hate speeches were becoming common, black killings too. For me it meant more cases and more cases meant more fun, for I was Alan Dickson, THE Alan Dickson, defense attorney for the filthy rich, at the peak of my career.

They said I was the best, I naturally agreed. I’ve won cases that no one else could. The cream of the elite circle said that I was a modern day Jesus, they said I look the part with my fair complexion and my manicured brown beard but most of all, they said it because I swooped in and saved their asses and I did a damn good job, while I was at it.

The first time I set eyes on Shirley, I knew I had to have her and that there were no two ways about it. I saw her in the bar across the road from my office, she wore a red suit. A creature more beautiful I had never ever seen before. Her hair was black as the dark night and her eyes as bright as the sun and if I had to give her a name I would have called her Aphrodite. The goddess of love. One look and I was her slave for life. Only that she would not know that, because be it business or pleasure Alan Dickson is hard to get. You have to work on it.

So I sat there and stared for long enough and then when she was sure it was her I was looking at, I looked away and looked busy. It worked like a charm, like I knew it will. She made her way towards me and said “You’re Alan Dickson”, “Thank you for the confirmation” I replied, with a smile. She looked flustered and I knew it had worked. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked “Tequila would do me good, I’m Shirley by the way, Shirley Hutchinson.” she said sitting down on the stool beside me. I ordered her drink and we got into talking. She had a charm that I had never seen before, a finesse that lacked in the others. She was a bio technician, and a winner like me. She had me mesmerized from the get go. We exchanged numbers before we said goodbye. I knew she would be the one to call first.

As time passed we got into a routine she would call me up on Thursday night and ask me if I was available the next day, I would say I wasn’t sure and wouldn’t be till the next day, she would say she would be at the bar and if I wanted to I could go meet her there. I always did. And every time I walked into the bar towards he she would say, “A Hutchinson never loses.”

Time passed and we became more than just friends. Then one Thursday night she didn’t call and I got worried. I knew she wouldn’t break pattern. She was a woman devoted to science, they love patterns and routines. I called her number on Friday morning and I didn’t get an answer, I tried her work number, they said she didn’t show up. I walked into the bar hopeful that I would find her there that evening, but she wasn’t there. As I sat on my usual stool the, Joey, the bartender came to me, “The usual” I said to him and as he poured my drink he gave me a card. It said “15, North Avenue, South Park. Come ASAP.” “She gave it to me this morning.” Joey said. I knew who she was. I paid for my untouched drink and ran to my car. I drove to the address given; I got there in an hour. Praying all the way, to a God I didn’t believe in, I prayed for the worst to not happen.

The place looked like an abandoned warehouse. I took my licensed revolver out of the glove compartment and walked to the entrance. The door was opened just a crack. I entered very slowly. Dreading the worst now. As I entered the warehouse I heard her voice call my name. I rushed towards the direction the sound had come from. I entered a smaller room and I saw her there sitting in a chair, unhurt, by the looks of it. “What’s Happening, What are you doing here?” I asked. “I need your help” she replied. “Al, would you do anything for me?” “Anything.” I replied, too relieved at the fact that she was unhurt to give much thought to it. “Kill him for me then!” She was pointing at the dark corner behind her, when I looked closely I saw a black man tied up to a chair, he looked unconscious. “Wait! What?” I said, baffled. “You said you would do anything for me Al, this is what I want you to do.” “This is a man Shirley, an actual human being, and you are asking me to take away his life, what has he done to you?” “He killed my father Al, murdered him, 3 years ago during the war.” “Let’s take him to court then, build a case, I can win it for you, you know I can, why kill him?” “I have already BEEN to court and LOST, lost because we have no evidence.” “If there is no evidence, how can you be sure that it was him who did it?” “I DON’T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN” She shouted, “Please Shirley, try and rationalize, this is not the right thing to do, it can’t be.” “DO IT! Or I’ll kill myself, right here, right in front of you!” she said as she took out a knife from her bag and placed it on her wrist. “No Shirley, this isn’t right.” and as I took a step towards her, she slit her own wrist, with one fluid movement. “NOOOOOO” I cried, and as I ran to her I saw her slump to the floor.

I don’t know what got into me; I don’t know why I did it. In frenzy I took out my revolver and shot the man tied to the chair. Maybe I did it because she had asked me to or maybe because I didn’t know what else to do. it may be that I thought that if I shot that man she would come back to me.

I sat there on the floor, cradling her head in my lap, the police came along with an ambulance, and they took her from me. I went with the police admitted to the crime I had obviously committed.
They put me to trial, it was just a formality, the modern day Jesus had fallen and no one could save him.

“I know what I did is punishable by death and I am ready for it, as ready as any man could ever be. And yet I am not ashamed to have done it. Men have done things of far greater magnitude and things far worse than this for love. If there is a regret I have it is that I lost Shirley. I didn’t get to spend more time with her. The court forbade her to visit me. They deemed me dangerous. She was the person I wanted to see. They didn’t let me. I chose to see no one else. I talked to no one. Ever. But now you know. That I am Alan Dickson and I did what I did for love.”

As I wrote that last line, a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. And at that moment the guard shouted “Open on 57” and my door slid open. The guard walked me to the chamber beside the execution room and all the procedures
were carried out, my hair were shaved and I was given a white suit to wear and rubber shoes. They escorted me to the execution room and I was strapped in the chair, they sent in the priest and he read to me from the Holy Book. I just sat there and smiled the thought of seeing Shirley again, one last time. I didn’t care about what The Book said, it didn’t comfort me all my years of silence, the thought that one day, eventually, I would see her, even if for a moment, that’s what saved me.

And then they drew the curtains and there she was, her hair as black as ever, her eyes still sparkling, like the sun, our eyes met, she was crying, but a tiny smile played at her lips. She knew it was true, she knew she had won, She knew Alan Dickson was in love with her. They covered my face then, the last thing I saw was her and then someone in the darkness asked, “Any last words?” and I said “A Hutchinson always wins!” And then it happened.

Love by the sea shore - 3: The eternal longing

Hated by all creatures of land, sea and air for their cruelty in keeping the young lovers apart, the King of the Night and the Mighty Sea sat ions apart in conversation as the world fell deep in the lull of peaceful slumber.
The conversation ran long, they had waited a decade for this rare chance to talk in private, away from the eyes of the world, worried to let their secret slip.
Once the unnecessary banter was out of the way, they came to the reason of this rendezvous, the little ones and their young love.
Oh how they reminded the Moon and the Sea of their own tragic love, spread over a gazillion centuries, their own epic struggle, the continuous pull of the Moon, the harsh struggle of the Sea as she tried and failed over and over again to reach her beloved, just this once.
The little grain of sand was no older than one century, the wave maybe two and they had spent all that time loving each other and hating the crowned ones for their demise.
If only they knew, how the mortals had no say in the matters of love and fate, how if they did, would they not have united, once and for all, instead of keeping their emotions a well guarded secret, just so the world doesn't lose hope in the magic of love.

Love by the sea shore- 2: Longing on the other side

He swept over the barren sand, constant in his motions,
At the command of the Mighty Sea by day, answering to the King of the Night at night.

Each thrust, each push was nothing more than an Amen to the command thrust upon him,
And yet each time he wished he could break free,
Even if freedom came with a terrible price.
If only he pushes hard enough to reach her,
If only he could get to her this time,
Losing himself would be a small price to pay if it meant he could be a part of her forever.
Absorbed by his love for her, consumed in his longing, would it be ever so bad, if his end came in her embrace?

Unable to break the terrible curse set, he did what he could do best, he plotted and waited and plotted some more, until it was time for full moon's tide.

That one moment, that second of fulfillment, when he could caress her sweet body. Be hers truly hers, even if just for a moment.  
Committing to memory that shiver she felt, right before he left her, longing for more, always for more.

His sorrow unknown to her, she must think, surely she must, that he doesn't love her enough,
For surely if he did, he would not rush back so fast, leaving her with nothing but his frothy reminder, until next time.

Love by the sea shore - 1: Longing to belong

She waited calmly, even as she longed
For that one moment in that one night, when the full moon shined and shined ever so bright,
On her glittering, shimmering, shivering body.

At the command of the King of the Night, he came roaring, soaring, bright.
One moment each night, one night each month and twelve nights a year, when he was hers and she his own.

A moment's touch that left her moist and longing,
Leaving a bit of himself on her each time, like a kiss, a promise, for another moment, in another night.

The price she paid, was ever so great, for being the farthest grain of sand, so deeply in love with the frothy wave, in servitude of the Mighty Sea.

Frayed

Like a piece of fabric well-worn,
My soul seems frayed, threadbare.
Darned one time too many, patched up and sown, the seams distressed.
Its barely held together with a few steadfast threads,
Adamant at making it to the very end.
There was once a time, it was new and intact,
It hadn't seen winter or the harsh winds of the west, it was shiny, safe, secure, ready to save the day.
But now its lost, weary and weak, like a setting sun...
Ready to give up, knowing deep down that it couldn't,
For tomorrow is another day,
Another battle to be fought,
Not won nor lost...
Like a piece of fabric well-worn,
My soul seems frayed, threadbare.

Letters to My Inner Demons III

Dear Apprehensions and Misgivings,
                                                                It’s nice how you keep forgetting to stay away, annoyingly adorable almost. The first signs of trouble and there you are, making sure I question every breath I take. It would have been fun, watching you watch me destroy myself like this, but here I am, destroying myself like this so no it is not fun, it is not easy, it is hard. Very, very hard to overthink all the time. To ponder over things I am supposed to be sure of, day in and day out every second of every day. It is not okay, it is not right to invade someone’s privacy like that, to come and lodge yourself in a crack in someone’s brain just because you felt like it, you annoying little pair of parasites. Actually no, there is nothing little about you, you are huge, large and terrifying but I still have to stand up to you, I still have to find a way, because once upon a time I was sure of what I wanted and that has not changed. I still want the same things and I am going to get them, I am going to find a way to believe again. I can and I will and you two buggers would not be able to stop me. How’s that for a misgiving, huh? 
    Look I know you want to exist too and that I’m the perfect host but the thing is life is difficult as it is, it is downright excruciating. It’s hard enough to put one foot in front of another and then there is you. So you have to take a break, take a vacation, leave find someone else because I can’t have you any more, I hope you understand.

Sincerely,
Me

She way like a page from the devil's handbook...

 

 

She was like a page from a devil's handbook, all painted red and gold. Her hair dark as the starless sky, her eyes deeper than the ocean. Her step assured, her brow set, she glided over the land with the airs of an elven queen. No throne worthy of her, no treasure grand enough and yet she conquers all, no mortal could stand in her way. Tales of her fierce beauty were told in the seven kingdoms.
No matter where she trotted the world was at her feet, bowing to its uncrowned queen. Her glance stole hearts and her touch was like the spring, too wild and beautiful to be explained and yet everywhere she went, doom followed, like a bride's maid carrying her trail. Make no mistake, it was a doom unintentionally inflicted and yet it was gratefully accepted. For what would be better to have your heart stolen by the fearsome vision in red that glided over the lands, even if it meant eternal heartache.
She lived at the town edge, by the forest. It was misty, dark and deep but she feared it not. She wandered often on the trails forgotten, finding solace in the eerie silence. Often she treaded on the path that led to the cliff edge, wondering what it would be like to go all the way, to take that final step and be free from it all, the piercing stares, the unasked questions and the hubbub of the town. And so she walked one dark night, she walked to the edge, standing at the tip she stared up at the clear sky and then at the wild gleaming sea below. The ravens flew over her head, forming a dark halo, almost like a crown. With her hair flying, a wild gleam in her eye and a smile playing upon her lip, she took that extra step.  Her arms spread wide and her eyes closed with a peaceful look upon her face and her dress flailing around her like a lotus at bloom. She fell slowly and the world held its breath watching the enchanting sight. Not a leaf moved, the ravens suspended in mid flight, the sea in mid roar, the wind in mid howl. And then it came, the all mighty crash, lifting the enchantment that had held them all in place...

And all at once there was chaos all around.