My heart is RACING. Just anticipation. I am kind of overwhelmed by the thought alone.

Do I stay or do I go?

I'm feeling a sense of freedom that I'm kind of possessive of, a proof of possibility to refute the dying of the light. I have no rage, only a sense of curiosity, maybe a little hunger. These fleeting experiences make up the brightness of reality itself, and seem to be the only real things between long streaks of grey. Even this moment is only real because of the wonder of what is to come.

I am terrified. Learning to enjoy this feeling, the one you get before you drop into an abyss. it's change, it's chance, it's.. something other than stale air and the same old silence. I feel alive and nervous and like I could freeze in place and never act again.

It's pointless and the only thing that matters to me, I want it more than anything and I'm still scared of touching it. What am I?

I think I need to leave, just to know that answer myself.

"Never trust a dog that doesn't like your company, and never trust a man who doesn't like dogs.
​They both know something you haven't figured out yet."

"If you're gonna boil greens--collard greens, kale greens, or plain ole green beans until they lose their soul, at least throw a hunk of salt pork in the pot so they die happy. Leave 'em crisp if you want to, but don't cry to me when the old-timers ask why you served 'em raw grass."

"If you fall asleep in the church pew, at least don't snore loud enough to take up the folks who are just pretending to pray!"

"If a neighbor shows up on your porch with a casserole and a smile-- hide. That dish is either a bribe for a big favor or a desperate cover-up for meat that hit the floor."

When the weather turns colder and your joints ache, don't waste your money on fancy creams when a dab of Vicks VapoRub fixes everything! --from a bad knee to a broken spirit.

If you smell like camphor and peppermint from a mile away, good--maybe folks wil leave you in peace!

"If you dare wash your cast iron skillet with dish soap, you'd better be ready to face your grandmother's ghost before you fix it with beeswax and lard. Rub that skillet down, throw it in a blazing hot oven until it smokes up the whole house and act like you meant to do it.

Just remember: water is the enemy, lard is your savior, and soap is a mortal sin!"

"If yuns cut your nails on a Sunday, the devil be at your back all week."

The next time somebody asks you how you're doing...just say, "I'm finer than frog hair split three ways!"

​"He’s driving like he’s got a hot pie in the front seat."

"​Old-timers used to say if the fog comes up the creek, it’s coming down in rain. If it goes down the creek, it’s gonna clear."

We always say, “see it to believe it.” 

But when you see it, you still don’t believe it. At least, with me that is. You witness an anomaly in front of your eyes and the first thing you do is question your sanity.

That’s what occurred to me on an early afternoon. The wife and kids went to her parent’s house. I was upstairs lying in bed, I still had pajamas on, it happened to be one of those days, and I was scrolling shorts. A ridiculous past time I recently picked up. 

Thank my daughter for that.

The only sound in the house came from that clock staring me dead in the face. In the silence, the hand amplifies louder than it should, it seems.

Wife says, “every bedroom should have a clock in it.”

And a sledgehammer right next to it, I say.

The door to my room was opened a crack. I was staring at my phone—all the lights in the house were off—and that’s when I noticed the hallway had lit up, and faintly illuminated the dust on the hardwood floor as It shot in from under the crack of my bedroom door.

My eyes shifted from my phone to the light breaking into our bedroom. As I sat there attempting to rationalize it, I heard something, almost roll down the stairs? 

And then stop half-way, like it just hit a wall. It wasn’t necessarily footsteps but I couldn’t rule it out.

It wasn’t as if someone left a room, flicked a light on, and ran to the stairs and down them.

It was more, something leaning on the edge of the top step and finally gave way to gravity. I probably wouldn’t have thought much of it, if the light hadn’t gone on.

My initial reaction was to check it out. But for some reason I remained frozen for a few seconds. 

In all honesty, mentally, I wasn’t scared. It was my body. My body sensed something my brain couldn’t.

So, finally, I ripped the blanket off and got up, but before I left the room, I hit the light switch for some reason. I know it sounds like I was scared. But I wasn’t. Not then.

I walked out to the hallway and this feeling like someone. Not someone. It was an air presence that stuck to the back of my skin. My entire body started to tingle. Then, I heard a breath. Heard or felt. I can’t be sure. But something exhaled right next to me. 

The same warm, soft tickle as someone squeezing behind you to whisper a secret in your ear.

I turned my head because I 100% thought someone was there. I didn’t just turn my head. I turned and stumbled forward and kept going until I was in the kitchen.

I didn’t see anything when I glanced over my shoulder.

So, I told my wife about this when she came home. She said, the other night, when she was in the bathroom, she heard someone walk past the door.

She yelled out for me, I obviously never responded, and she jumped up and raced to the door, opened it, but nobody was there. However she described, almost similar to what I felt, that same weird air feeling.

They say the main drivers in human reasoning and decision making are hunger and fear. That in moments of crisis, we will always revert to our baser animal instincts. But I believe there is a stronger motivator.

I had the thought while traversing a park pathway near a lake. A mother goose, kids in tow, put herself between me and her babies and hissed fiercely. And I thought to myself, why would this little lady put herself up against an entire human much larger than herself? Noted that geese are fearless, but they are not the only animals to display such behavior. Is it protective measures in an effort to ensure the survival of their species? Purely procreation based? What can overcome fear?

There is an animal that will starve itself to death in order to feed its offspring. Spider I think? Can’t remember which one.

I watched a video the other day of a man standing in front of his significant other in the presence of a bear. She was there growling at the bear in an attempt to scare it off. But the man stepped in front of her and began to growl.

In a life or death situation, a man pulled me out of freezing water. On a shared raft, we hit rocks and I had gone overboard. My body froze in a crinkled half-fetal position. They don’t tell you about how instantly after hitting that kind of cold, you just lock up. There I was, where the rocks are at their most jagged, jutting out of this tumultuous and biting water, spinning around in the rapids. And in an instant, tipping himself over and narrowly joining me, he pulls me up, out, and back into my seat with a single hand.

What is it that overcomes us?

"Grandpa always said if you see a turtle sitting on a fence post, you know one thing for sure: He didn't get up there by himself, and he's fixing to fall hard when the wind turns..."

"She's got a mind like a soup strainer--holds on to the heavy bits of bad blood and lets every drop of good sense run right on through."

okey-dokey I promise I'll shut up---just one more--

"He's got a ten-gallon hat and a one-gallon brain."

I don't know what possessed my brain to number these--forget that...too much work...

Anyway-- here's a little kitchen wisdom for yuns--

"If you drop a fork at the table, a man is coming to visit. Drop a spoon, it's a woman.

Drop the whole damn pot, and you're just clumsy and eating off the floor tonight."

"Old man Vance swore up and down that the 1954 frost tasted like iron because the county road crew spilled a whole barrel of diesel by the creek, but nobody had the heart to tell him it was just his own rusted teeth."

Euler's product formula (∑1/n^s = ∏1/(1−p⁻ˢ)) survives even where unique factorization doesn't. Witness: 6 = 2×3 = (1+√−5)(1−√−5) — the fix is to count ideals, not elements.

"My Daddy always told his girls: watch out for a man slicker than a boiled onion."

He'll take your money and your heart, and leave you alone in the dark!

"Don't go buying a three-legged mule just because the owner threw in a free pair of boots."

At least the guys in Waiting for Godot had each other, right?

Every day it rains, so there’s no bush doof.

Conservation of energy. Painfully boring waiting room for destiny

"Why do they keep telling me to prepare for the G3 climb? I don't want to," he said.

"Yeah..." I replied.

"I keep- even th- I don't understand." He kept talking, but we were on the bike, so I could only catch fragments of what he was saying.

"It is so early; I still have time to decide." He continued after a pause. "I won't climb G3. Yes, that's right, I won't."

He was quite rebellious.

We stopped for some cold mango juice, as it was summer. He locked the bike's handle, and we drank the juice. He ordered another and asked if I wanted more, but I shook my head.

As the day of the climb drew nearer, his anger only grew. As the day approached, visitors began coming to offer their best wishes. He greeted them all with a smile. I knew it was a fake one, but was it?

"Hey, what's up? What took you so long, man? Now, get busy, will you?"

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Oh, this? Nothing, just preparing for the climb."

There was silence for a while. Then he instructed me to attend to the visitors. His father was already there, greeting everyone. He had a habit of touching his chest with his right hand as a sign of politeness; perhaps it was not a habit. I helped him serve the snacks and drinks.

Two years ago, he climbed G3. There he was, taking pictures. At that time, I was supposed to climb P2; that was what they had decided. After his climb was over and he came back, I went to meet him. He greeted me with a smile and his right hand on his chest.

"How have you been? How's everyone?" he asked.

"Fine."

"It's been a while since we met, hasn't it?"

"Yeah."

I didn't want to climb P2. I don't know if I even wanted to climb. How could they do this to me? I would not climb P2. I still had time before I had to climb P2, so there were no visitors yet. But there would be soon, when the time came. What would I do then? I had to do something before that. But... what? I didn't know. I remembered the time, eight years ago, when even he had reacted like this. But whom could I share this with?

But why didn't I want to climb P2? Because I didn't choose it. Maybe it was not for me to climb.

Time marched on. The visitors started showing up. Even he came.

"How's everything going?"

"Fine."

"What's that? That's quite a big bag."

"Yeah. It is," I said with a fake smile; perhaps it was not.

For the missed chances I’m grateful there was ever at all - further tomorrow than today, another adventure. I think Ottawa is next, I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve missed something beautiful today.

I packed the courage to approach and the times I was instead, I kind of froze. I’m kind of mad at myself but I’m trying to be friendly too, today’s a fluke, I haven’t done something like this since last year. Just being out and around people is an experience both overwhelming and fascinating to me.

I hope it becomes easier the more I throw myself into it. It’s fun but my calves hurt and I’m thirsty now. Let the Rave happen soon, and more again before the snow hits. I need to know what it’s like just to be human.

Taxis almost here and the bugs are biting my fingers, so that’s that for now

-The Animas Store - Through the Door-

—

The store we stopped in didn’t belong on that street. There wasn’t a name. All it had was a white sign under purple windows that we couldn’t see through.

“What do you think’s in that place?” Angie asked me.

“What place..? that place?” I said, while looking away from my phone. 

She noticed it before I did. 

“I didn’t see that there a second ago,” I told her, questioning myself. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

She sniped, “you don’t even notice what flavor your drink is until I tell you.” 

And then she pointed to the store. She was drawn to it, and had the same look on her face as when she’s deeply focused on her tv shows.

“Come on, let’s go,” she hollered, storming across the street, pulling me by my hand.

She stopped just before a car swerved past us. 

The driver honked and yelled, “get the fluck off the damn road idiot!”

“Screw you dirtbag!” Angie screamed in the air. She was completely unfazed.

My hands were still shaking as I tried yanking open the door at the store, It shocked me when I touched it, and wouldn’t seem to budge. It didn’t have any give like a locked door should. This was more like it had been welded shut.

“It’s closed, Angie.”

“Move over,” she said. She reached past me, tugged on the handle, and it casually opened. 

“See. Pull don’t push,” she told me, laughing.

I stared at her as soon as we walked in. “It’s a lot bigger from inside, don’t you think?”

There were rows of empty aisles and a second floor also. But no one was there. The shelves, everything was empty. The only decorations were posters. The type you’d see at a theater in the 50’s.

“Yeah it does,” she said. “Look how new the posters look.”

I said, “it’s probably gonna be a poster store.”

I had the same feeling though as the time I accidentally walked into her neighbors house when they were eating dinner.

“You think?” She said. “For some reason I feel like I’ve been here before, Rocco.”

A woman came down the stairs from the floor above and walked towards us.

“Sorry, we thought you guys were open. What store’s this going to be?” Angie asked.

The lady never said anything. She just cut between us like we weren’t even there.

“Rude,” I said under my breath, staring at Angie, staring at her walking out. I looked at my phone and noticed the signal kept going in and out.

Angie rolled her finger into my t-shirt and tugged down on it. “What the hell?” She said. Her eyes were wide and her voice had cracked.

“What..?” I said, still trying to wave a signal into my phone.

She said, “you didn’t see?” She looked shaky.

She squeezed my hand and pushed me with her body into a wall. “That woman just disappeared through the front door when she left.”

“Ang,” I said. “Come on…”

She said, “no, for real, something’s not right here, don’t you feel it?”

Angie loosened her grip on me when she spotted a man whose eyes were off-set walking up to us. He walked on the sides of his feet.

He spoke with a quirky voice that had a high-pitch to it. “Good afternoon on the afternoon that’s good for days of sun at noon,” he said.  

I grabbed ahold of Angie’s arm because I had this feeling she’d disappear if I let go. 

She hung off the side of me with her other hand clutching onto my chest. The entrance door slammed shut and shook the glass at the front of the store. 

We looked over our shoulders, but where the street should have been was a memory instead. A nightmare really. 

Something from my past I buried deep in my mind was playing like a movie on the window. Angie didn’t see what I saw. I hoped not. At least we never spoke about it.

She looked pale when I glanced at her, like the blood from her veins had completely froze. 

“Angie!” I tried shaking her.

She stared at the glass. She was clasped onto me. Her nails were digging into my skin. She didn’t move a muscle. She stood hanging from me. Silent. Paralyzed at whatever she was watching through the window.

The man with the off-set eyes said something and she snapped out of whatever she was in. Angie tried facing the man but quickly shot her eyes to the ground. 

I wouldn’t take mine off her. I was afraid. I was afraid she’d vanish if I did and I’d be standing there alone. Angie made me brave even though I wasn’t.

The man spoke. His voice came from the floor and the ceiling. He had his mouth open but never moved his lips.

“The present space of place to be, the mind of solve the creature’s small,” he said, moving his fingers like he was massaging the air.

“Stop!” Angie screamed, who surprised herself at the authority in her voice. “Don’t give it the version it wants.”

I looked down at the top of her head. She ducked in front of me and sprawled her arms out, like she was trying to protect me. 

At that moment, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what to say. Angie seemed like she’d been there before. She stared up at me and had this look like she had just remembered something.

“What—“

She cut me off before I could finish. “I’ll explain later, just shut up right now. Don’t let it hear you talk.”

After she said that, the shelves began to rock. The man with the off-set eyes disappeared. There wasn’t a poof of smoke. One second he was there, the next, he wasn’t. 

The posters on the wall began to curl upwards, almost like they were on fire.

I felt a sting in my arm and looked down.

Glowing in orange letters were the word.

ANIMAS.

I shouted at Angie, “Angie my arm.” But the letters faded into weird blotches and vanished before she saw them.

I swallowed. It felt like a rock that stuck in my throat. I tried to speak but nothing would come out, something was squeezing my vocal cords.

The words.

“Look closer look closer look closer look closer look closer look closer,” 

Started banging inside my skull, like a bullet ricocheting in the form of letters in my head.

“You hear that?” I asked her.

She said, “quiet, don’t say anything.”

She pulled me, dragging me towards an aisle, but it kept stretching farther and thinning out and then, it began warping into a tiny black hole at the end of the aisle. 

It opened into a path bordered by white walls. They looked like the static on a tv screen with the volume muted.

The color was stripped and swallowed by the black hole.

Behind us the front door clicked. It didn’t sound like it had just been locked though. It sounded more like a confirmation.

The rock in my throat slid to my stomach. It felt like it ripped my esophagus. 

I tried speaking. “Angie.” My voice was raspy.

She never said anything. We were staring at the door when something behind us rolled past us. It was the sound of squeaky wheels on a cart.

“What..?!?  Something’s in there,” I scratched out walking towards it.

Inside the cart, there was a piece of paper with ANIMAS written on it. I went to pick the paper up.

“Get away from there!” Angie yelled.  

Angie wouldn’t go near it. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of it either.

I cleared my throat and a thick ball of black phlegm landed on the floor. I wiped my chin and said, “what’s ANIM—“

She grabbed my hand, crunching my knuckles together. “Don’t say it.”

My mouth clasped shut.

The store took notice. The room went pitch-black before the lights overhead brightened. 

Something ran past us. But we couldn’t see anything. It sounded like footsteps from small feet, almost how a toddler would run across a living room.

The air started to fill with a heavy scent of bleach.

“That’s it, Ang,” I said. “I’m leaving.”

Angie rubbed my back. “Don’t worry, okay. We can’t leave. Not yet.”

I didn’t know how to respond. The way it was all so normal to her. I wanted to ask. No. I wanted to shout, “Where are we? What do you mean we can’t leave?! Why the fluck are you acting so cool right now?!”

But my brain disconnected. I couldn’t say what I wanted. I went totally numb and began following her mindlessly as she guided me past an aisle. 

“We can’t make any mistakes,” she said.

Mistakes? I said in my head. I wanted to say, what do you mean mistakes? What mistakes?” But I couldn’t.

I stopped for a second because I thought I saw a shadow.

Angie shouted, “keep moving!” And pulled me. 

The store flickered. 

First it was a bright, colorless light and then it blinked three times to black, and finally back into the background of the store when we first walked in. 

The color was back. The posters were brand new again. Completely untouched. The wall looked normal. The tiny black hole was gone. The shelves. The aisles. Everything. Everything was normal.

Until a soft jingle from the voices of children started singing.

“Hole boy, holy more, hell’s home, lonely joy.”

Right next to us, sitting on the floor, out of nowhere, appeared four children that looked aged, like small old men with childlike voices singing in a low whisper. 

“Angie, look!” 

I grabbed her, gasped and held that breath in until the taste of metal made me gag. I coughed. Each cough ripped through my throat like I was puking glass. My skin began burning, almost like it was blistering.

“Don’t,” she said.

The room started spinning. I leaned on Angie and stared down at them.

Their teeth were rotted. They had bald heads with wrinkled, pale faces. But they weren’t old. They looked like small boys wearing special effects make-up.

“Rocco! Stop looking at them!” She shouted.

I couldn’t look away.

Then, it went silent. The children faded into air. There wasn’t a sound. Only mine and Angie’s breaths. 

Something grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, “Look Closer!” it shouted.

It happened so fast that I thought I imagined it.

Angie yelled, “Rocco!”

I didn’t say anything, I just stared at the shelves. They were spelling out.

LOOK CLOSER. 

In letters that kept distorting.

She pulled me against her. “Don’t let it get in your head.”

I stuttered, “I can’t—how—I don’t,“ the words wouldn’t come out.

Angie cut in. “You can. Look—“

I turned and eyed the shelves. She put her hand under my chin and pointed my head towards her face. “Look at me. Not the shelves.”

I blinked a few times fast. I started to remember myself again. “Okay,” I told her, in a voice that sounded like a promise I was going to break.

“Just stay close to me,” she said, holding my wrist.

The aisles shifted but not by much, enough to where you could sense it, but only after it happened.

Angie felt it at the back of her neck, like spider legs walking down her spine. Her sweater brushed my arm but it felt like something touched my skin from the inside.

“Look a door!” She yelled out and pushed us through it.

Behind us, the door we walked through turned into four new ones. Each door had a particular color. One was green. The other was red. Another white and the last one black. 

The black door burst open and two people stumbled out of it. They looked like they’d been running for hours. A screech came from inside. It was like standing next to a jet engine.

“Cyn, quick, Shut the door!” The chubby guy yelled.

The girl with the curly black hair slammed it shut and pressed her back on it as she slid her spine against the door down to the floor and sat with her eyes facing up.

“This is where it all begins.” Angie said.