I have artistic ambitions. I draw, paint, photograph and write. Not as much as I should but it is a way to reconnect with myself. It calms the voices in my head, you know, the voices that doubt. Every time I make time to write, draw, paint, or photograph, I immediately feel better and a little more in control. I feel confident and sometimes I even feel proud of something. For example, I drew a woman lying down based off a picture and I felt pretty good about the outcome. I felt like it was instantly recognizable and pretty similar to the picture. It is by no means perfect. Some lines are too long or too straight and the shading is terrible. The thing is I am self taught. My only class was an online perspectives course. I learned by reading and watching. I learned by constantly trying, erasing and trying again.
I am getting sidetracked. The point is my artistic side sometimes has incredible ego, where I imagine myself showing my work or doing a reading (unfortunately a lot of the time I feel super self conscious about my creations). During these times I imagine my work, whatever it is, up in a museum or on a bookshelf. This is where I start wondering about my very generic name and how it would fit in. Rembrandt, Picasso, Kahlo, Michael Williams..... it doesn't work. Don't get me wrong, I do not think I produce work anywhere on the caliber of these artists but please indulge in this fantasy with me. Can you imagine it?
I can't. I can't imagine my name being attached to something someone else finds extraordinary enough to put in a museum. Maybe this tells you too much about me and my demons. Oh well, the thing I am talking about here is the name (so stop delving below the surface). My name is pretty common here in the US. There are countless numbers of Michael Williams in the world. I know some have been star athletes, entrepreneurs and all sorts of things but the name seems a bit ordinary. A name lacking in the requisite shine to compete in the arts. So, as I was driving one day, I began to entertain the thoughts of changing my name. Something that would really shine. That would be intriguing and captivating. You know, something that would look okay in all those museums I was destined for....
Then I thought about the name again and I remembered a few things. Some things that point to my own duality. Perhaps the astrological sign I fall under is a little accurate after all. You see I love my name at the same time that I find it completely ordinary and a touch boring. Here are some stories about my relationship with my name.
One of my earliest memories of my name being cool is when my family called me "Michael Michael Motorcycle". Maybe that should be my new artist name.... Michael Motorcycle. Or Michael F'N Motorcycle. Sounds pretty good to me.
The first time I ever realized my name was not unique was a shock. I met a kid named Michael one day when I went to my cousin's house to play. I instantly hated him. How dare this kid usurp my name! That devious devil. I kept my eye on him from then on. Never really warming to him and not having any other reason to not like him than he had my name. In reality, he was a nice kid. After all I should have been pissed at his parents. In fact, I am pissed at every parent of a Michael. HOW DARE YOU???? IT IS MY NAME NOT YOUR PRECIOUS POOKIE'S NAME! EVEN IF YOU ARE OLDER THEN ME, YOUR PARENTS WERE WRONG! Maybe I have a few issues to work on.
It was a few years later and a parade of other people named Michael had come through my life. I was getting used to it. I think I was in 4th grade by this time and I had learned how to be friends with name thieves. My teacher was out, thank the lord because I hated my 4th grade teacher. Except that my substitute would almost unseat her as Queen of All Villainy. During roll call she mispronounced my name and asked for a "Michelle Williams". Michelle? It isn't even spelled close. If you think it is, you would be wrong! The other kids teased me until about lunch when they forgot about it but I never have. I probably never will. I hope that sub died in a fiery explosion.... maybe from an over abundance of gas caused by an unhealthy diet.
That mispronunciation prompts me to tell you something else, perhaps we should call it a public service announcement. The only way to spell Michael is M I C H A E L. It is not Micheal, stop screwing my name up! If you are somebody out there who had stupid parents that misspelled my name and gave it to you please alter your spelling or choose another name. In fact, knock it off with the multiple spellings of all names. Can't we choose one and stick with it? I mean aren't they all pronounced the same? That is all, now back to our regular random ravings of a slightly insane individual.
I was horrified when I went to college and found that on the same dorm floor as me another Michael Williams resided. I never met him because I moved out of that dorm shortly after but I am sure he was an upstanding citizen, that I probably should have shoved off a cliff..... name thief...
As I grew up I started to accumulate lazy friends who called me Mike and I allowed it; even embraced it. I also started a pen name in high school that some people know and other college friends know some variation of. I had a nickname that I was largely responsible for. It was not until recently that I have been introducing myself as Michael again. My new friends know me as Michael and probably think I prefer it because they apologize for calling me Mike. Which is unnecessary, I answer to old nicknames and Mike (As long as it isn't Michelle). I just kind of realized one day that I liked the sound of the whole name. Even if it is not exactly a unique name.
Speaking of not being unique... could all the other Michael Williams stop getting tickets and not paying them? Every time I get a new drivers license I have to go through a laundry list of offenses that I have never done. Especially a certain Michael Williams in New Jersey... cut it out man! Speaking of that, why the hell do they show up on my record check with the DMV? Shouldn't they research you by social security number or the driver's license number? What the holy heck do I have personal identification numbers for? PLEASE LEARN HOW TO DO YOUR JOBS PROPERLY!
So as much as I might wish for a more unique and individual name I still really want to keep my name. I also must accept that my name will always be given to other people and I will do so gracefully (ish). In order to cover the bases for my possible canonization after my death, I might be working on a few new pen names and artist monikers.
No matter how you know me feel free to use the name you have always used for me. Hey! That was rude! I do not need you cussing like that. I hope you don't cuss like that in front of your mother!
Friday, February 27, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
do you ever look at the world map and wonder who actually named the different places on it? Some seem like they probably are inspired by the country itself. Think of all the stans. Then there are places like Easter Island, Bikini Island and Christmas Island... Why have the maps not been corrected? What is the islands real name?
Monday, January 19, 2015
New Year Blues
I came crawling back here...
I am about half a year in to not teaching. I am not sure how I feel about it. I am not actively seeking employment at the moment. That is not exactly true. I am currently employed at a seasonal gig that is due to end soon. I can't see it lasting much past this week... if it even makes it that far. I have enjoyed the distraction.
I guess what I meant by not actively seeking employment is I am not looking beyond a temporary gig. I really can't stand the idea of walking back into a classroom and having to jump through the hoops of meeting the expectations.
So why haven't I moved on? Why am I not looking for my next thing?
You could say it is because I am undecided on what that it. There is definite truth to that.
Except it is not the thing that keeps holding me back. I think it is because I miss interacting with the students. I miss trying to figure out how to make a connection. I miss watching them grow and learn. I loved a lot about teaching.
Sadly I think that the stress, the unclear expectations, the non-supportive "Support", teaching to the test, and the constant self doubt makes the job seem like a nightmare. Then there was the sheer time I poured into my job and the lack of acknowledgement or encouragement from the people in charge. The feeling of being a disposable cog.... even though they say the opposite.
I want to learn how to teach students how to learn. I want to be able to teach students how to enjoy learning. I want to teach kids how to be better then I could ever manage.
Except nobody seems to care about this. It isn't measurable, I guess...
I am about half a year in to not teaching. I am not sure how I feel about it. I am not actively seeking employment at the moment. That is not exactly true. I am currently employed at a seasonal gig that is due to end soon. I can't see it lasting much past this week... if it even makes it that far. I have enjoyed the distraction.
I guess what I meant by not actively seeking employment is I am not looking beyond a temporary gig. I really can't stand the idea of walking back into a classroom and having to jump through the hoops of meeting the expectations.
So why haven't I moved on? Why am I not looking for my next thing?
You could say it is because I am undecided on what that it. There is definite truth to that.
Except it is not the thing that keeps holding me back. I think it is because I miss interacting with the students. I miss trying to figure out how to make a connection. I miss watching them grow and learn. I loved a lot about teaching.
Sadly I think that the stress, the unclear expectations, the non-supportive "Support", teaching to the test, and the constant self doubt makes the job seem like a nightmare. Then there was the sheer time I poured into my job and the lack of acknowledgement or encouragement from the people in charge. The feeling of being a disposable cog.... even though they say the opposite.
I want to learn how to teach students how to learn. I want to be able to teach students how to enjoy learning. I want to teach kids how to be better then I could ever manage.
Except nobody seems to care about this. It isn't measurable, I guess...
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Forgettable Lessons
These are the things I no longer wish to understand.
That thought lit up my brain like the Las Vegas strip at night. It went exactly against what my teacher was trying to drill in my head. He tapped the chalkboard next to the words he deemed to be the most important for the lesson. I looked straight at him but was really looking out of the corner of my eyes to see how my classmates reacted. He looked right at me and I bent to copy the words hurriedly.
“Tena, do you think I am talking to everybody but you?” He began as I felt my cheeks redden. “Your classmates have already written this information down and you are just starting. Hmmm…. maybe you think you know better than I. Perhaps I should hand the chalk to you.” He made his way over to my desk with the chalk outstretched. He stopped right in front of the desk with his hand still outstretched, holding the chalk. He towered over me when I was standing but I was currently sitting as he dressed me down; you could say he towered over me. I risked a glance up and saw, behind his large hooked nose, his piercing ice blue eyes boring into me with barely concealed contempt. He reminded me of a scarecrow; unusually tall and oddly proportioned. His face seemed wrong somehow; it was too pale and parts of it seemed like it belonged on another skull.
When our eyes met I knew I made a mistake looking up at him. I tried to compensate for it by hanging my head; allowing my hair to cover my face and my fear. He responded by slamming the chalk down on the desk with such force that part of it was changed to dust. “Teach!” He bellowed. I was rooted to my chair but could hear the snicker of my classmates. They were always laughing at me, I did not belong in this world of power and privilege. They mocked me openly in the hallways and tormented me in the classes. The quiet laughter at my humiliation had always seemed harder to brush off but the quiet laughter bothered me more than normal today. I pushed the tears and fear back inside and snapped my head up in the middle of the teacher’s tyrannical gloating. I met his eyes again with my best steely gaze, grabbed the chalk and headed to the board. I began writing on the board and the snickers died. For a second there was not a sound except the scratching of the chalk as I wrote. “What do you think you are doing!” He demanded. I kept writing and ignored him. He began screaming at me but I kept writing until the words of wisdom had been etched on the board. I read it again; pausing long enough to correct the grammar. Then I turned around, dropped the chalk and stomped on it before moving out of the way.
On the board it read:
The scarecrow made a mistake handing his power over to a teenager.
The room was quiet for several seconds until the unexpected laugh of the principal ripped through the air.
That thought lit up my brain like the Las Vegas strip at night. It went exactly against what my teacher was trying to drill in my head. He tapped the chalkboard next to the words he deemed to be the most important for the lesson. I looked straight at him but was really looking out of the corner of my eyes to see how my classmates reacted. He looked right at me and I bent to copy the words hurriedly.
“Tena, do you think I am talking to everybody but you?” He began as I felt my cheeks redden. “Your classmates have already written this information down and you are just starting. Hmmm…. maybe you think you know better than I. Perhaps I should hand the chalk to you.” He made his way over to my desk with the chalk outstretched. He stopped right in front of the desk with his hand still outstretched, holding the chalk. He towered over me when I was standing but I was currently sitting as he dressed me down; you could say he towered over me. I risked a glance up and saw, behind his large hooked nose, his piercing ice blue eyes boring into me with barely concealed contempt. He reminded me of a scarecrow; unusually tall and oddly proportioned. His face seemed wrong somehow; it was too pale and parts of it seemed like it belonged on another skull.
When our eyes met I knew I made a mistake looking up at him. I tried to compensate for it by hanging my head; allowing my hair to cover my face and my fear. He responded by slamming the chalk down on the desk with such force that part of it was changed to dust. “Teach!” He bellowed. I was rooted to my chair but could hear the snicker of my classmates. They were always laughing at me, I did not belong in this world of power and privilege. They mocked me openly in the hallways and tormented me in the classes. The quiet laughter at my humiliation had always seemed harder to brush off but the quiet laughter bothered me more than normal today. I pushed the tears and fear back inside and snapped my head up in the middle of the teacher’s tyrannical gloating. I met his eyes again with my best steely gaze, grabbed the chalk and headed to the board. I began writing on the board and the snickers died. For a second there was not a sound except the scratching of the chalk as I wrote. “What do you think you are doing!” He demanded. I kept writing and ignored him. He began screaming at me but I kept writing until the words of wisdom had been etched on the board. I read it again; pausing long enough to correct the grammar. Then I turned around, dropped the chalk and stomped on it before moving out of the way.
On the board it read:
The scarecrow made a mistake handing his power over to a teenager.
The room was quiet for several seconds until the unexpected laugh of the principal ripped through the air.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Shadow King; a short story
Shadow King
Do you ever wonder if you have a story to tell? I have never thought of my life as being worth putting in writing. What good would a story about somebody fumbling through life do the world? Isn’t that everybody’s story? What makes my story more compelling then someone else? I am not famous, rich or successful. I am a regular person living day to day, with the same worries that everybody I have ever met has as well. As far as I can tell the stories that were published had a lot more to offer then mine. So what changed? Why are you, hopefully, reading my story? A lot. Nothing. I don’t know.
The day I became interesting.
It started out as an ordinary day. I was at work. The glamorous life of a grocery store employee, an overnight stocker and cashier. I was unloading the weekly shipment when I first noticed something strange. The city was unusually quiet and at first it seemed peaceful but as I listened I soon felt fear creep up the back of my spine. Something was off. The quiet was unnatural. Oppressive. I became suddenly aware that I was alone. My coworkers and the truck driver were gone. I was alone on the unloading dock.
All of my instincts were telling me to run and hide. Unfortunately I was unable to move. I have read about being stuck as if your feet had sprouted roots, trapping you to the earth where you stood. This was not like that at all, it was like my body didn’t belong to me. Like I was merely a visitor inspecting a statue. I simply did not have the strength to pick up my feet and run away. I was stuck; alone and terrified of the silence. I began to wonder, if I could move, would I see hundreds of people stuck like this all around me. Stuck in one spot and terrified. Was this why the world had gone eerily silent?
I realized it wasn’t that the world wasn’t actually quiet. I could hear something, panting. The sound suddenly filled the silence and it seemed to come from all around me. Then I saw the source of the noise, large black dogs were slipping out of the shadows and surrounding my immobile body. The panting continued for some but others emitted a low warning growl. The growl was deep and vibrated my entire being. Warmth spread across my midsection and it took me a second to realize I had managed to pee myself in fear. I was beyond caring because I could tell my number was up anyway. The shadow dogs seemed to find my terror intoxicating because the growls were replaced by what seemed to me to be mocking grins.
“Have we terrified this young man enough boys?” Boomed a voice from the deep shadows. In response the dog tails wagged as they sat down and resumed their panting. The darkest shadow seemed to break away from the other shadows and move toward me. As it did layers of shadows stripped away from the figure and I began to make out a small figure. The figure still was mostly concealed and the voice was still terrifyingly loud when it spoke next. “Human, we have need of your services. Come with me and offer aid.”
If my body had been capable I would have turned to look behind me to see who the shadow spoke to but it became apparent when no answer came forth that the shadow figure could only be talking to me. “I require an answer.”
“An answer? You did not ask a question, Shadow Man. You simply spoke a command. So far, I have no reason to trust you or go anywhere with you. You terrify me with your shadow hounds, root me to this spot and cause me to pee my pants in terror. As far as I am concerned you can go spit.” Once again I felt the urge to look behind me to see who spoke despite knowing full well that the words had come bubbling out of my mouth.
“Shadow hounds? I like that. It sounds more ominous then the name I gave them. ‘The pack’ sounds like a group of annoying teenaged wannabe thugs. I thank you for the name for my ‘shadow hounds’ but I still require that you come and assist me.” The shadow man gestured for me to come and this time I did. I am still not quite sure why.
“You are a perceptive human. You could feel me coming while the rest of the humans froze unaware. I exist in between time and my presence tends to cause low intelligence beings to simply stop until I leave an area. You couldn’t move until I spoke to you but you were fully aware. This means there is hope for you, unlike the rest of humanity.” His words were dripping with venom. I knew this man held no love for humans including those he deemed to have hope.
“Interesting. Since I come with you of my own accord I will ask a few things from you. First, some new clothing that does not reek of urine. Second, tell me your name.”
“Ah, reasonable request, the first one is. The second is problematic. Names are power. I will not tell you my name but I can give you a name to use if you like. Although I can tell you already have one for me and that is fine as well. Although change man to king as I am the king of the world we are entering.”
“You want me to call you Shadow King? Seems odd to me but I’ll go with it. So when can I change clothes?” I asked
“It will happen once we cross the threshold, humans these days have no sense of style. I made sure that the threshold would redress all entrants in an appropriate manner when meeting with me.” And as we crossed the threshold shadows enveloped me and I could feel myself become clean and dressed in light, loose clothing. When the shadows parted I was wearing black slacks and a purple silk shirt and what seemed to be boxers; looser then I was used to but at least they were clean. The Shadow King was no longer covered in shadows. He was a small dark skinned man with angular features. He almost looked human but only just. There was something off, some energy that told your hind brain that he was dangerous. His eyes were a yellow color that I had only seen on television shows about werewolves. He smiled at me and I got the distinct feeling that he had too many teeth. “You look much more appropriate for a meeting with the Shadow King.”
I nodded stupidly at him. My words were caught up in the part of the brain that was in fight or flight mode, meaning they were once again not readily available to me. Luckily for me the Shadow King had no intention of letting me control the conversation, or was that lucky, I’m still not sure. “I need you to do something human.” I bristled at the lack of my name as he spoke to me. He hadn’t even asked for it. The arrogance of that act really got under my skin. I was about to mention it but part of me was reluctant. He handed me a hot drink and I suddenly realized the Shadow King’s realm was bitterly cold. I took a sip and it was awful, I placed it down on the table I was suddenly sitting at.
“It is very nice here if you can get past the cold. You should see it during daylight time, it is beautiful. Of course once you really see in the shadows the view is unsurpassed by anything on Earth.”
The conversation confused me because I could not keep track of it in my mind. I was not sure how we had got here and seated at this table that looked over a vast dark abyss.
“Drink human. It will help keep you warm.” I did as I was told but the lack of my name irked me a great deal. The drink was bitter.
“A Shadow King’s primary job is to manage the shadow realms bloodlust. Some of your history, human history, has been shaped by humans that were infected by shadow. The spillover is expected of course. We occupy some of the same space on this world as you humans.” He smiled at me again and my fear was replaced by loathing that ran deep. “Humans are the worst creature that could be infected by shadow. The murderous rampages are bad but truly astounding is monsters that wrap it in political or religious doctrine. Humans are monsters. They are what keeps the children of the shadow realm up at night. Humans are our bogeymen.” He looked at me without smiling, his eyes sparkled like amber fossils. My loathing went up an octave as we continued to look at each other. I broke eye contact first. I grabbed and took the last drink of my suddenly empty cup. I wanted more. Sensing my sudden desire for more of the drink a shadow servant appeared and poured some in my cup. I greedily snatched it up and guzzled it before demanding more from the servant. The shadow king began to speak again and I found his words confusing and irritating. He talked too much.
“Listen, Shadow King,” I interrupted, my words came out angry and slurred, “I don’t know who you are kidding. You are a horrible ruler, your pestilence overflows in to every place it can. You have no desire to keep it away from humans. You want us to be infected!” I was angry and when I grabbed my cup, some of the drink sloshed on my shirt. I cursed and began trying to suck the drink out of the fabric. If this bothered the Shadow King he drew no attention to it but I still felt his judgment. That rankled and I growled at him to show him my displeasure. His response was to smile at me.
“Perhaps you think you could do a better job?” He asked with that ever present, self-satisfied smirk.
“I think no such thing. You told me you were lousy at the job when you were explaining what you do. I am just tired of your attitude.” I said, at least I am fairly sure I said that, because there is a part of me that only remembers growling. Either way his smile did not falter.
“Let me ask you again human, do you think you are more suited for this job then I?”
“I have a name you know!” I growled.
“I know,” he said with a twinkle in his golden eye, “….human.”
I was out of my seat and had my hands around his throat before I was aware of moving. I was trying to choke the life from his sparkling golden eyes. He did not look concerned, nor did he seem to be fighting me. My grip began to loosen as my rage continued to grow. It didn’t make sense but I soon became aware of a steadily growing pool of dark crimson that enveloped us. My eyes threatened to close and my hands were not working as they should. I looked at him and he merely offered that same smile. This time it no longer seemed to mock me or enrage me. Instead it seemed to pity me, but it was the exact same smile. I felt a deep searing pain in my gut and it pulled my attention away from his smile. I had been stabbed, gutted really and most troubling was that I was not sure when of how it happened. The crimson pool surrounding us was my blood.
“You have fire Jason Moore.” The Shadow King whispered to me. “It is far down in your person but it is there. It took several glasses of the potion to get it to come out but come out it did. I have a question for you. Just one more question and then I will leave you to your fate.”
I looked at him with wide open eyes. It took a second for my brain to concentrate enough to blink. My eyes closed and wanted to stay behind closed lids but my brain forced them back open. When I could see again the Shadow King no longer lying beneath my body. My body that was rapidly draining of life. I had once again lost time in this shadow realm. I should never have come here, I wondered if anyone missed me. I wondered if my body would be left behind somewhere. Would they look for my murderer?
“Before I ask you the question Jason Moore,” He said my name again, when had he learned it? Had he always known it or had I told him during one of my many blackouts this evening? I wanted to ask but my lips would not move. “I must tell you something. Your wound is fatal for a mortal such as yourself. So you will die here tonight and for that I am truly sorry. No matter what you will never be you again, not exactly. It is necessary though, please believe that.” I continued to stare blankly at him. I wanted to curse him but my body was not cooperating. “Now for the question, I require an answer from you but in your current condition I know words are not a possibility. A blink shall suffice. If your answer is yes blink once and if no blink twice. Do you understand?” I blinked once. “Good. Jason Moore, Do you think you would do a better job than I at the job of Shadow King?”
I thought about my body lying here slowly leaking my blood across his floor. I thought about the life I had lived. I thought about all the decisions I had made that led me to this point. I thought about all my lost dreams and then I closed my eyes. Images floated across my eyelids. Moments both joyous and heartbreaking. Memories of all the confusion, indecision and pain. Times were I felt good, smart and on top of the world. And those earlier days when I would often find myself bored and looking for some mischief to get into. I thought about what people had said to me during those early years. I had never really lived up to the potential that others had expected of me. I had not accomplished the things I had meant to. I was a man unfulfilled. I was a lost puzzle piece trying to find the right puzzle. I had always believed that I existed in the wrong time or perhaps the wrong world. I wondered if I had been looking for my spot in the wrong puzzle. I suddenly knew my answer and I opened my eyes.
I made sure that they stayed open while I looked around. The room was empty. I was alone, laying on the floor in dried up blood. The pain was gone and there was no evidence of the wound that had nearly killed me. The knife was by my side but not in my side. I went to stand and that was when a shadow servant appeared and helped me to my feet.
“Where is the Shadow King?”
“You are here sir.” The servant replied.
Do you ever wonder if you have a story to tell? I have never thought of my life as being worth putting in writing. What good would a story about somebody fumbling through life do the world? Isn’t that everybody’s story? What makes my story more compelling then someone else? I am not famous, rich or successful. I am a regular person living day to day, with the same worries that everybody I have ever met has as well. As far as I can tell the stories that were published had a lot more to offer then mine. So what changed? Why are you, hopefully, reading my story? A lot. Nothing. I don’t know.
The day I became interesting.
It started out as an ordinary day. I was at work. The glamorous life of a grocery store employee, an overnight stocker and cashier. I was unloading the weekly shipment when I first noticed something strange. The city was unusually quiet and at first it seemed peaceful but as I listened I soon felt fear creep up the back of my spine. Something was off. The quiet was unnatural. Oppressive. I became suddenly aware that I was alone. My coworkers and the truck driver were gone. I was alone on the unloading dock.
All of my instincts were telling me to run and hide. Unfortunately I was unable to move. I have read about being stuck as if your feet had sprouted roots, trapping you to the earth where you stood. This was not like that at all, it was like my body didn’t belong to me. Like I was merely a visitor inspecting a statue. I simply did not have the strength to pick up my feet and run away. I was stuck; alone and terrified of the silence. I began to wonder, if I could move, would I see hundreds of people stuck like this all around me. Stuck in one spot and terrified. Was this why the world had gone eerily silent?
I realized it wasn’t that the world wasn’t actually quiet. I could hear something, panting. The sound suddenly filled the silence and it seemed to come from all around me. Then I saw the source of the noise, large black dogs were slipping out of the shadows and surrounding my immobile body. The panting continued for some but others emitted a low warning growl. The growl was deep and vibrated my entire being. Warmth spread across my midsection and it took me a second to realize I had managed to pee myself in fear. I was beyond caring because I could tell my number was up anyway. The shadow dogs seemed to find my terror intoxicating because the growls were replaced by what seemed to me to be mocking grins.
“Have we terrified this young man enough boys?” Boomed a voice from the deep shadows. In response the dog tails wagged as they sat down and resumed their panting. The darkest shadow seemed to break away from the other shadows and move toward me. As it did layers of shadows stripped away from the figure and I began to make out a small figure. The figure still was mostly concealed and the voice was still terrifyingly loud when it spoke next. “Human, we have need of your services. Come with me and offer aid.”
If my body had been capable I would have turned to look behind me to see who the shadow spoke to but it became apparent when no answer came forth that the shadow figure could only be talking to me. “I require an answer.”
“An answer? You did not ask a question, Shadow Man. You simply spoke a command. So far, I have no reason to trust you or go anywhere with you. You terrify me with your shadow hounds, root me to this spot and cause me to pee my pants in terror. As far as I am concerned you can go spit.” Once again I felt the urge to look behind me to see who spoke despite knowing full well that the words had come bubbling out of my mouth.
“Shadow hounds? I like that. It sounds more ominous then the name I gave them. ‘The pack’ sounds like a group of annoying teenaged wannabe thugs. I thank you for the name for my ‘shadow hounds’ but I still require that you come and assist me.” The shadow man gestured for me to come and this time I did. I am still not quite sure why.
“You are a perceptive human. You could feel me coming while the rest of the humans froze unaware. I exist in between time and my presence tends to cause low intelligence beings to simply stop until I leave an area. You couldn’t move until I spoke to you but you were fully aware. This means there is hope for you, unlike the rest of humanity.” His words were dripping with venom. I knew this man held no love for humans including those he deemed to have hope.
“Interesting. Since I come with you of my own accord I will ask a few things from you. First, some new clothing that does not reek of urine. Second, tell me your name.”
“Ah, reasonable request, the first one is. The second is problematic. Names are power. I will not tell you my name but I can give you a name to use if you like. Although I can tell you already have one for me and that is fine as well. Although change man to king as I am the king of the world we are entering.”
“You want me to call you Shadow King? Seems odd to me but I’ll go with it. So when can I change clothes?” I asked
“It will happen once we cross the threshold, humans these days have no sense of style. I made sure that the threshold would redress all entrants in an appropriate manner when meeting with me.” And as we crossed the threshold shadows enveloped me and I could feel myself become clean and dressed in light, loose clothing. When the shadows parted I was wearing black slacks and a purple silk shirt and what seemed to be boxers; looser then I was used to but at least they were clean. The Shadow King was no longer covered in shadows. He was a small dark skinned man with angular features. He almost looked human but only just. There was something off, some energy that told your hind brain that he was dangerous. His eyes were a yellow color that I had only seen on television shows about werewolves. He smiled at me and I got the distinct feeling that he had too many teeth. “You look much more appropriate for a meeting with the Shadow King.”
I nodded stupidly at him. My words were caught up in the part of the brain that was in fight or flight mode, meaning they were once again not readily available to me. Luckily for me the Shadow King had no intention of letting me control the conversation, or was that lucky, I’m still not sure. “I need you to do something human.” I bristled at the lack of my name as he spoke to me. He hadn’t even asked for it. The arrogance of that act really got under my skin. I was about to mention it but part of me was reluctant. He handed me a hot drink and I suddenly realized the Shadow King’s realm was bitterly cold. I took a sip and it was awful, I placed it down on the table I was suddenly sitting at.
“It is very nice here if you can get past the cold. You should see it during daylight time, it is beautiful. Of course once you really see in the shadows the view is unsurpassed by anything on Earth.”
The conversation confused me because I could not keep track of it in my mind. I was not sure how we had got here and seated at this table that looked over a vast dark abyss.
“Drink human. It will help keep you warm.” I did as I was told but the lack of my name irked me a great deal. The drink was bitter.
“A Shadow King’s primary job is to manage the shadow realms bloodlust. Some of your history, human history, has been shaped by humans that were infected by shadow. The spillover is expected of course. We occupy some of the same space on this world as you humans.” He smiled at me again and my fear was replaced by loathing that ran deep. “Humans are the worst creature that could be infected by shadow. The murderous rampages are bad but truly astounding is monsters that wrap it in political or religious doctrine. Humans are monsters. They are what keeps the children of the shadow realm up at night. Humans are our bogeymen.” He looked at me without smiling, his eyes sparkled like amber fossils. My loathing went up an octave as we continued to look at each other. I broke eye contact first. I grabbed and took the last drink of my suddenly empty cup. I wanted more. Sensing my sudden desire for more of the drink a shadow servant appeared and poured some in my cup. I greedily snatched it up and guzzled it before demanding more from the servant. The shadow king began to speak again and I found his words confusing and irritating. He talked too much.
“Listen, Shadow King,” I interrupted, my words came out angry and slurred, “I don’t know who you are kidding. You are a horrible ruler, your pestilence overflows in to every place it can. You have no desire to keep it away from humans. You want us to be infected!” I was angry and when I grabbed my cup, some of the drink sloshed on my shirt. I cursed and began trying to suck the drink out of the fabric. If this bothered the Shadow King he drew no attention to it but I still felt his judgment. That rankled and I growled at him to show him my displeasure. His response was to smile at me.
“Perhaps you think you could do a better job?” He asked with that ever present, self-satisfied smirk.
“I think no such thing. You told me you were lousy at the job when you were explaining what you do. I am just tired of your attitude.” I said, at least I am fairly sure I said that, because there is a part of me that only remembers growling. Either way his smile did not falter.
“Let me ask you again human, do you think you are more suited for this job then I?”
“I have a name you know!” I growled.
“I know,” he said with a twinkle in his golden eye, “….human.”
I was out of my seat and had my hands around his throat before I was aware of moving. I was trying to choke the life from his sparkling golden eyes. He did not look concerned, nor did he seem to be fighting me. My grip began to loosen as my rage continued to grow. It didn’t make sense but I soon became aware of a steadily growing pool of dark crimson that enveloped us. My eyes threatened to close and my hands were not working as they should. I looked at him and he merely offered that same smile. This time it no longer seemed to mock me or enrage me. Instead it seemed to pity me, but it was the exact same smile. I felt a deep searing pain in my gut and it pulled my attention away from his smile. I had been stabbed, gutted really and most troubling was that I was not sure when of how it happened. The crimson pool surrounding us was my blood.
“You have fire Jason Moore.” The Shadow King whispered to me. “It is far down in your person but it is there. It took several glasses of the potion to get it to come out but come out it did. I have a question for you. Just one more question and then I will leave you to your fate.”
I looked at him with wide open eyes. It took a second for my brain to concentrate enough to blink. My eyes closed and wanted to stay behind closed lids but my brain forced them back open. When I could see again the Shadow King no longer lying beneath my body. My body that was rapidly draining of life. I had once again lost time in this shadow realm. I should never have come here, I wondered if anyone missed me. I wondered if my body would be left behind somewhere. Would they look for my murderer?
“Before I ask you the question Jason Moore,” He said my name again, when had he learned it? Had he always known it or had I told him during one of my many blackouts this evening? I wanted to ask but my lips would not move. “I must tell you something. Your wound is fatal for a mortal such as yourself. So you will die here tonight and for that I am truly sorry. No matter what you will never be you again, not exactly. It is necessary though, please believe that.” I continued to stare blankly at him. I wanted to curse him but my body was not cooperating. “Now for the question, I require an answer from you but in your current condition I know words are not a possibility. A blink shall suffice. If your answer is yes blink once and if no blink twice. Do you understand?” I blinked once. “Good. Jason Moore, Do you think you would do a better job than I at the job of Shadow King?”
I thought about my body lying here slowly leaking my blood across his floor. I thought about the life I had lived. I thought about all the decisions I had made that led me to this point. I thought about all my lost dreams and then I closed my eyes. Images floated across my eyelids. Moments both joyous and heartbreaking. Memories of all the confusion, indecision and pain. Times were I felt good, smart and on top of the world. And those earlier days when I would often find myself bored and looking for some mischief to get into. I thought about what people had said to me during those early years. I had never really lived up to the potential that others had expected of me. I had not accomplished the things I had meant to. I was a man unfulfilled. I was a lost puzzle piece trying to find the right puzzle. I had always believed that I existed in the wrong time or perhaps the wrong world. I wondered if I had been looking for my spot in the wrong puzzle. I suddenly knew my answer and I opened my eyes.
I made sure that they stayed open while I looked around. The room was empty. I was alone, laying on the floor in dried up blood. The pain was gone and there was no evidence of the wound that had nearly killed me. The knife was by my side but not in my side. I went to stand and that was when a shadow servant appeared and helped me to my feet.
“Where is the Shadow King?”
“You are here sir.” The servant replied.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Changes
I decided to admit that I really don't want a teaching gig next year. I am curious how people will see that.\
In other news I have decided to start focusing on writing again. I will also focus on getting it published. It has always been my dream and it is time to prioritize that dream. I am going to focus on getting a writing group together. One online and also joining an existing one in the local community.
In other news I have decided to start focusing on writing again. I will also focus on getting it published. It has always been my dream and it is time to prioritize that dream. I am going to focus on getting a writing group together. One online and also joining an existing one in the local community.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Advice you didn't ask for....
I wrote this for my students. There are some commas missing but whatever.
I know I have said this but it is important to repeat things that need to be heard. I loved being your teacher this year and getting to be a part of your lives. I know that you all have a bright and exciting future ahead of you.
I want to leave you with some advice based off my experiences and also from observing and teaching you this year.
1. Your ability is not measured by how quick you do something as much as it is by how well you do something. Take the time you need and always do your personal best. Take pride in your work.
2. Slow down! This mirrors the first piece of advice but it extends outside of the classroom. Take the time to enjoy where you are and what you are doing at that moment. Time starts flying the older you get and you want to have as many happy memories as possible to think fondly about.
3. Don’t measure yourself against someone else’s success. This is hard to do because everybody wants to compare themselves to their family, peers, and heroes. The reality is that you are not them and your strengths will be different from theirs. Sometimes you have to work harder at something than other people and sometimes it takes you longer and that is okay.
4. It’s okay to fail. Yes, failure happens. The thing you must do is learn from your failure and figure out how not to do it again. Failure is a better teacher than success; even if it hurts a little bit.
5. Work hard. To become better at anything you must put in work. People that are successful put in work to become successful. Rock stars aren’t born they practice all the time to be as good as they are. This is the same for athletes, scientists, entrepreneurs, and teachers. To be good at anything you must put in a lot of time and effort.
6. Pursue things you love even if they are hard and you are terrible at them. I love art and I want to be good at it. Some of you may be convinced that I am but I am still learning and have a ways to go. I have worked hard to be at the level I am and I have enjoyed the process. Another passion I have, when I am home, is basketball but you would never know it by watching me; I am completely awful at it. When I play regularly I am able to perform decently but I won’t ever be good enough to suddenly be recruited by the NBA. It is okay that I will never become a basketball star because of how enjoyable playing a game or shooting baskets is for me.
7. Give younger friends and family a break. You already include the younger kids in the games you play even though a lot of the times they ignore the rules or don’t know them. It can be annoying, I get it. Especially those times when they follow, surround and annoy you on purpose. Understand that it comes from an honest belief that you are cool and that they want you to like them. So be cool. Every once in a while go over and seek them out. Not only let them play but pick the little kids first sometimes; even the most annoying ones. You do it to a certain extent already because you are all amazing, just push it a little further. There was a time in your life or a person in your life that you looked up to, if you still look up to them, was it because they told you that you were annoying or was it because they occasionally took you under their wing?
I could probably go on for ever (I think you all have witnessed this in class) but I think I passed on some of the most important ideas.
I expect great things from everyone of you. Of course, greatness can only be defined by the individual. Pursue your dreams and forge the path that will make you happy.
Thanks for letting me be your teacher.
I know I have said this but it is important to repeat things that need to be heard. I loved being your teacher this year and getting to be a part of your lives. I know that you all have a bright and exciting future ahead of you.
I want to leave you with some advice based off my experiences and also from observing and teaching you this year.
1. Your ability is not measured by how quick you do something as much as it is by how well you do something. Take the time you need and always do your personal best. Take pride in your work.
2. Slow down! This mirrors the first piece of advice but it extends outside of the classroom. Take the time to enjoy where you are and what you are doing at that moment. Time starts flying the older you get and you want to have as many happy memories as possible to think fondly about.
3. Don’t measure yourself against someone else’s success. This is hard to do because everybody wants to compare themselves to their family, peers, and heroes. The reality is that you are not them and your strengths will be different from theirs. Sometimes you have to work harder at something than other people and sometimes it takes you longer and that is okay.
4. It’s okay to fail. Yes, failure happens. The thing you must do is learn from your failure and figure out how not to do it again. Failure is a better teacher than success; even if it hurts a little bit.
5. Work hard. To become better at anything you must put in work. People that are successful put in work to become successful. Rock stars aren’t born they practice all the time to be as good as they are. This is the same for athletes, scientists, entrepreneurs, and teachers. To be good at anything you must put in a lot of time and effort.
6. Pursue things you love even if they are hard and you are terrible at them. I love art and I want to be good at it. Some of you may be convinced that I am but I am still learning and have a ways to go. I have worked hard to be at the level I am and I have enjoyed the process. Another passion I have, when I am home, is basketball but you would never know it by watching me; I am completely awful at it. When I play regularly I am able to perform decently but I won’t ever be good enough to suddenly be recruited by the NBA. It is okay that I will never become a basketball star because of how enjoyable playing a game or shooting baskets is for me.
7. Give younger friends and family a break. You already include the younger kids in the games you play even though a lot of the times they ignore the rules or don’t know them. It can be annoying, I get it. Especially those times when they follow, surround and annoy you on purpose. Understand that it comes from an honest belief that you are cool and that they want you to like them. So be cool. Every once in a while go over and seek them out. Not only let them play but pick the little kids first sometimes; even the most annoying ones. You do it to a certain extent already because you are all amazing, just push it a little further. There was a time in your life or a person in your life that you looked up to, if you still look up to them, was it because they told you that you were annoying or was it because they occasionally took you under their wing?
I could probably go on for ever (I think you all have witnessed this in class) but I think I passed on some of the most important ideas.
I expect great things from everyone of you. Of course, greatness can only be defined by the individual. Pursue your dreams and forge the path that will make you happy.
Thanks for letting me be your teacher.
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