A Familiar Love

 All at once a familiar face appeared and she knew what home felt like.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of the raised concrete flowerbed outside her shop.

"Hey," she said, sliding her hand behind his neck as she drew him towards her for a kiss.

He got to his feet then and slid his hand into hers as they headed down the sidewalk towards Clark's where they were meeting their friends for trivia.  Must be a Thursday.  She liked how comfortable he'd become being this way with her in public, fingers interlacing in this overt display that they were safely out of the dreaded "friend zone" where they'd lived for so long.

"How was your day?" he asked her as the simple question made her heart skip a beat.

"The usual," she said, trying not to keep the moment's simplicity tucked away as a memory before the moment was even fully lived out. "Yours?" she asked, remembering her manners.

"Good," he said, almost as if the answer surprised him.  "Better now that you're with me," he added.

She giggled as she noticed a slow blush creeping up his cheek.  "Same, babe, same," she said and he opened the door to Clark's for her and they scoured the tables to see if anyone else had already arrived.

"We must be first," she said.

"Usual table is open at least," he said, escorting her over.

They'd been playing Thursday night trivia at Clark's for almost four years at this point.  It's how they met -- her college roommate was dating one of his work buddies and somehow that magical coincidence brought this routine into their lives.  That couple was now married with a one-year-old that they routinely left in his mother's capable care so they could continue on this quest to win The Cup, a prize that Clark's trivia hosts hand out quarterly.  Teams had to participate in a certain number of contests per quarter even to qualify, so it was deemed important by their cohort of players that everyone be there as often as possible so that it upped their odds of claiming The Cup.  They'd won the honor seven times, something no other trivia team in the history of Clark's had ever done.

"We're committed," they'd offered as a trophy acceptance speech the last time around.

As they sat at their regular table and waited for their married friends to join as well as the three other single people who were sullenly still in the acceptance faze that two of their other teammates had paired up, she leaned back in her chair and smiled at him.

"Remember when we met that first time?" she asked him.

He grinned.  "Mostly I remember you getting more of the sports questions right in that night's game than me."

She swatted him with the back of her hand.  "That's so sexist," she sighed in mock horror.

"What do you remember about that night?" he asked her.

She leaned over to look him square in the eye.  "I remember thinking that it wasn't the first time we'd ever met.  I remember thinking oh good, you're here.  I remember feeling immediately like you already knew everything about me.  I remember being so happy I showed up, even though I'd had a shit day and was even a little pissed that my roommate was dragging me to this stupid trivia night.  I remember how comfortable it felt to have you hug me goodnight."  She paused. "I remember how weird it felt that it might be a whole week until I saw you again."

He leaned in now, too.  "So why'd it take us three and a half years?" he asked.

"Because that's how long it took," she said, her smile soft as she reached over to hold onto his hand once more as the familiar sounds of their friends' voices carried to them from the bar's front door.

 First line by Meredith Brown

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

Catharsis

It was nearing dawn and I was in that half awake, half asleep zone when a sudden rattling of my bedroom door brought me to an abrupt consciousness.  I sat up, still not entirely sure the whole thing wasn't a dream until my eyes focused in on the door knob, now visibly turning.  A chill ran through me as I instinctively pulled a pillow across my body.

The door opened then and revealed a shadowed figure standing still in the hallway as the door swung in and lightly tapped against my bedroom wall.

"Hi," a male voice said softly, almost kindly, as a whimper escaped from my lips.

"You're afraid," the voice went on, almost surprised by the assessment.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask.  "Why are you here?"

The man stepped cautiously over the threshold, almost if he didn't want to track dirt on my bedroom floor.  "I won't tell you who I am," he said, his voice still calm.  "It doesn't matter who I am."  

I pulled my covers more tightly around me as I continued to press my pillow against my chest.  I watched the man almost materialize in front of me, no longer a shadow but a three-dimensional human wearing black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, and a black hoodie.  He had a black wool hat on and a dark red beard that covered most of his face.  

His eyes were a dark hazel and they searched mine intently.

"How are you?" he asked, standing now mere feet away from my bed.  His arms hung at his side, hands empty, though the front pocket of his hoodie could have had something bulky in it.  All I could do was stare at that pocket, hopelessly wondering if it was a knife or a gun.

"Are you here to harm me?" I asked.

"Do you want me to?" the man replied, almost a hint of mocking in his voice.

"Of course not," I snapped back, trying to calculate an escape route past this solid wall of a human inching ever closer to me.

The man smirks, leaning down now to look me dead in the eyes.  "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Why would I want you to harm me?" I asked, feeling more reactive with every breath.

The man shrugged.  "People want all kinds of strange things," he said, moving himself back into an upright position.  He folded his arms across his chest, almost in a thoughtful way.  "Sometimes people like being harmed."

"Who likes that?" I blurted out while the man chuckles back at me.

"Some people love being the victim," he said.  "I've had people pay me, you know, to do exactly this."

"Break into their homes and assault them?" I asked.  "Who would ever want you to do that?"

"Victims want that," the man said, as if I were quite stupid even to ask.  "Plus, I haven't assaulted you.  At least not yet," he added, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, I'm not a victim!" I yelped, somehow gaining mobility as I leapt from my bed and took off down my apartment's hallway, still clutching the pillow against my chest.

The man was quickly up behind me, though, and clamped a cold hand on my tank topped shoulder.  "You can't run away," he said, his voice still serene.

His touch was paralyzing even though I could have easily broken out of his grip.  I froze instead, the hairs on the back of my neck standing as his breath hit just behind my ear.  He didn't say anything, he just breathed, as I started to cry.  

"What do you want?" I asked again, regretting having left the safety of my bed.  Standing here in my kitchen, I felt exposed.  I wished I wasn't so anal retentive about putting away all of my utensils and gadgets.  A wine opener, a knife, something sharp of any variety would have been welcome in this moment, except that everything was tucked away in a drawer while my knees shook and my fingers dug in to my pillow-shield.

"I want what you want," the man said, his breath hot on the back of my neck.

"What do you think I want?" I asked, my tears falling visibly onto the floor now.

"Catharsis," he said, placing his other hand on my other shoulder, making me feel locked into place.

"I don't understand," I pleaded.

"I could rape you," he said, his lips now hovering off my skin.  "But I won't." His hands lifted off my shoulders and I nearly crumpled to the floor.  "I could hit you, but I won't."  He slowly moved around to stand in front of me, now barricading my kitchen doorway.  "I could end your life," he said, pulling a carving knife out of his hoodie pocket and holding it expertly so I could see. "But I won't."

My body was at a full tremble as I gathered all of my strength to steady myself.  "I don't understand," I said once more.

The man backed slowly away from me, back through the kitchen door into my living room.  I could see my front door standing wide open.  I could smell the building cleaning crew's bleach-heavy products out in the hall.  

"Next time, remember to lock your door," the man said, walking backwards all the way to the exit before smirking as he slashed the knife through the air with a sense of expertise.  I dropped the pillow to the floor, watching him turn on his heels and walk calmly out my apartment door.  Without thinking, I ran after him, my heart pounding up into my throat.  My hands gripped the doorframe, almost as if my body could fill it with the same immovable authority as his once did.  I watched him walk down the hallway, the knife slid back in his pocket, a casual whistle puckering his lips as he pushed his way out the double glass doors that were my only safeguard from the outside world.

I watched him go and I stood there, my hands pressing so hard against the frame of the door that I could feel my arms start to cramp with pain.  I watched him go as my brain spun the whistled melody he'd left me with on his way out into the early morning sun.  I stood there, a barricade, and did nothing else but watch him go.

First line by Amy Thompson

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

Invisible, It Seems

They say women
over the age of forty

are invisible, socially

speaking, and I find this

to be true.  I stand

in front of automated

faucets that refuse

to see me while I wait,

water flowing

for everyone else

but me.  At home,

I have these robots

that work for me.

They turn on my lights,

vacuum my floors, 

and remind me where 

I need to be.  I installed

them and trained them

and made them my own

so they obey my commands.

I am useful to them

because I have made them

useful to me.

There's no kindness

in standing, hands out,

desperate, with no water

in response to my pleas.

Defiantly, I stand here.

Invisible, it seems.

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

The Caretaker

 When he looked at her, all he saw were particles of light.  Sometimes she was green and sometimes she glowed purple and sometimes she was a rainbow in human form.  Those are her chakras, his supervisor had once explained before drifting away.  

He understood.

He understood her.

He wasn't sure she fully knew he was there, part of her life in this mysterious way that only the telepathy of souls can explain.  Sometimes, though, she'd radiate her emotions in his direction and he'd breathe them in as if they were the very thing that would sustain his life.  

Not that he had a life, not in the same way she did.  She was chosen, after all, for a purpose that was different than his own.  Not better or worse, necessarily, but different.  He'd learned this distinction by listening to human thoughts and seeing how their colors changed the deeper they'd sink into their struggle to understand their earthly existence.

What if there was nothing to understand, though, he wondered.  What if there was nothing but light?

She glowed pink with blush when he thought such things while near her.

Once, he'd hovered just outside her dreams, curious about what her human brain processed while she slept, and he was stunned to see it was a swirl of colors, like spilled oil on the pavement.  The colors, they took the shapes of earthbound things like horses and birds and mountains and caves, but never human.  When she rested, she returned to nature in this way, and he wondered if she ever woke up with the smell of fresh rain filling her senses.  

Mostly, he waited for her to be done with this human form so she could return to him and tell him what it was like, really like, to walk and talk and be the one who contributed to the evolution of her unbound soul.  

Without the restrictions that come with his role as her caretaker and her role as a human, they could melt together and be their highest frequencies, unparalleled equals as as beings are meant to be.  Not like they are now in their hierarchy where she is the adventurer and he is the one who carries her home.  

All he knows of her, anyway, is love.

She walks in human form to teach that love, to be that love, to express that love, no matter what.

He's watched her take this on so many times, so often in combat with others whose colors are encased with shiny, metallic armor that barricade them to sides. Whatever pain or suffering or hardship she faces as this avatar, he sees it shine through the colors she continually emits no matter what -- and he feels it through the emotions she conveys.  It startles him when he knows she's hurting because he has never felt such things himself.  He's only seen the colors and learned to decipher what they mean.  

Sometimes when he sees her vibrations are especially low, he'll whisper telepathically, shh, darling, it will be ok, and he'll wait to see her dull spectrum brighten once more.  

Does she know it's me? he asked his supervisor, who answered with a stillness that taught him it didn't matter either way.

It was his job to watch over her, nothing more.  Watch and wait and sometimes whisper -- while she, that radical burst of light, conveyed the secrets of love to any human form who drew near.

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

My Starling

A pretend story

played out on my screen

about a man and a woman

in recovery from grief.

In it, they needed different

methods to face themselves

before they could truly

face each other.  

But when they did,

they did.

I watched from my perch

while a notice pinged,

a sign from the cosmos

that when you're near me,

my mere presence makes you

dig deep into who you are.

Alive and energized and 

never bored when we're together,

that's what is written

by powers bigger than you

or me alone.

But here's the trick:

you can't be

in control.

Nor can I of you.

I thought how odd

to see this message pop

out of hiding while a starling

dive-bombs a famous actress

on my television. A knowing-

character says that starling pairs

partner forever but a quick

google search reveals infidelity

is likely -- though nothing's matched

as strongly as that first chosen mate.

But I like the romance offered

by the movie, the simple twining

of healing hearts, and I root

for love to win in the end --

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

Guided Hypnosis #72

 Where were you last night?

Folded in the cosmos' cobwebs, you moved in a daze through the din.  Everything popped with purple and gold, a party, you think, on your behalf.  Somewhere nearby, you hear laughter and loud cheers, as if happiness had a color.  You, you stood still in one spot and let it all melt over you like the buttery sun.

It's then that a friend you've only just begun to know appears beside you and puts a kind hand on your arm while she tells you, you deserve this.  You blink at her, your mouth matching her smile though it's not clear what you've done until she goes on.  "Your career, the way you think, it's an example for others," she says, stringing more words together even in this brevity than you've ever heard her string together before.

All you can feel is the aroma of kindness.  This place, it cradles you, it lulls you while you sway.

Before you can turn your brain on to think, your grandmother, gone from your earthly plain for over a decade now, bursts into the room and this is when you realize all of it is a dream.  Your grandmother doesn't appear in this realm often but whenever she does, she comes with news and support.  She comes to let you know you are exactly where you are meant to be.  She comes to love you more than life.

This time, she comes baring gifts: floating from a strand in one hand is a silver heart-shaped helium balloon that says something like "Congratulations" in bright red letters, busy stripes making up the backdrop.  In the other hand, she has a pale green envelope with her sophisticated cursive spelling your name across the front.  "Read it later," she tells you. "Now it's time to celebrate."

Whatever else was there turned to stardust and burst.

Awake, all you remember is your friend and your grandmother and the happiness they brought forth within you.  You can't ever recall feeling so loved.  Dancing your way into your day, you play those brief clips over and over so you can remember them well before you have a chance to write them down.  You giddily chirp these glad tidings into a message you send to a friend as you clump this good omen in with the rest.

Your life, anymore, has become a sea of synchronicities that confirm you are one with your golden path.

As if to prove it, another such moment happens at once and you ping your friend's inbox once more.  It just happened again! you say, remembering what it was like to be the child certain she heard sleigh bells on a Christmas Eve long ago.

This life piles magic, you think as your echoed reply to that dastardly question that pings while you wake -- where were you last night?  

As if it mattered.  As if it could be measured.  As if memory served.

You were where you always are: exactly where you're meant to be.

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar

You Are Welcome Here

I.

My building's front door

bangs open and shut

and I ask out loud, Is it you,

are you here, is it you?

II.

Twice since I've lived here

friends with no connections

to each other spotted the same

spirit lingering in my hallway.

I smile, though, poetically

unafraid to be curious

without asking anyone to leave.

III.

Before I moved in, someone

who knows me well smirked

when she learned of the cemetery

across the street from this place.

Don't bring anyone home with you,

OK? she said.  I smirked back.

Can't make any promises,

I shrugged.

IV.

Years before that, I sat with one

of my dearest at our favorite

breakfast spot and she said,

with immense certainty 

while scrolling through her feed

that there were no witches

nearby.  Not on Instagram,

I said, my gaze floating up

to the warm, blue sky.

V.

I'm not a witch, but my mother

used to dress as one every Halloween,

cloaked in black with a pointy hat

while she silently handed out candy

to terrify the children.  Anymore,

I wear every color under 

the sun and I throw my arms open

to anyone who's also here, like me,

to bask in the lightness of love --

2023

Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar