Phantom Voice

Matthew Corsair frowned as he watched the cops surround the bank. They pulled their guns and were pointing them straight at the door. This was the first time he had ever messed up while doing a job. He checked his pockets to make sure all of his tools were in place and then pulled the woolen mask off of his face.

It started when he was fourteen years old. He had just recently moved into the small town of Laplace, Louisiana. His parents had been kind enough back in Georgia to ask him if he wanted to move to New Orleans. Since he was never in the same school for more than two years at a time due to his father always finding new and better jobs, he had answered with an emphatic “no.” The next morning, a yellow Ryder truck was parked outside of his house already being loaded.

Since his move to Laplace, not New Orleans, Matthew hadn’t made many friends. He was a shy person. Instead, he would walk through the woods next to his parents’ house and right across the four-lane was Wal-Mart. He’d walk in and start looking around the place. He loved to look at the board games even though his parents never played them with him. His other reason for going was to look at girls. He had just reached puberty, and his hormones were kicking in.

One day Matthew was over in the men’s department standing by a display of belts. He was looking towards them, but actually his eyes were focused across the aisle at a cute brunette about his age. He watched her for a little while, then started making his way to the board games.

As he turned corners through the aisles looking at items that caught his attention along the way, he noticed that the same two people kept showing up on the aisles with him. This went on for half an hour. He realized he was being followed. He decided to try and lose them but every time he turned the corner, there they were, acting like shoppers.

He had enough, so he headed to the front of the store and right out the front door. He still had that odd feeling of being watched, so he turned around. Standing behind him were the man and woman who had been following him.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

The man said, “We don’t want anything from you. We were just told to watch you and make sure you didn’t steal anything.”

Matthew couldn’t believe what he just heard. Never in his life had Matthew even thought about stealing. He had been mostly a happy child and although his parents caused him some grief, they did manage to raise him to know right from wrong.

“Why? I’ve been coming here for a long time and no one has ever followed me before.”

The woman said, “Because you were standing by the belt rack for a long time and fidgeting.” Read the rest of this entry »

“You guys can go ahead without me. I think I’m going to stay around here,” said Miles Crandle.

“Are you sure? We’re planning on having a lot of fun, Miles. We’re going to the zoo and then heading downtown to go window shopping,” said Julie Graylin.

“Yeah. Like I want to shop with a bunch of women,” he said with a grin.

Julie playfully slapped him on his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. Take care of yourself and promise me you won’t go looking through old photos again.”

“You know I can’t promise that, Julie. Sometimes they make me feel better.”

“But she’s gone, Miles. And every time you look at those photos, I can see the pain in your face,” she said with a worried look on her face.

“I know she’s gone. But I will do my best not to look. Ok?”

“Ok.” Julie lightly kissed Miles on the cheek and walked out the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Coffee in the afternoon at Gerald’s again?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

Miles closed the door behind Julie as she waved and walked away. He stood in the entry to his three-bedroom house as a tiny tear trickled down his cheek. He remained there for a few minutes, lost deep in thought. After a while, he wiped the tear from his face, and headed to his bedroom, the one that used to be their bedroom. He sat on the blue-flowered bed and reached under it searching for a familiar touch. The album slid easily out from under the bed and he placed it on his lap. Miles Crandle gently touched the white leather cover of the album. His fingers traced over the words “Our Wedding Day” that were embossed in a golden hue. Read the rest of this entry »

I crave your eyes.
I crave their deep souls.
I crave your lips.
I crave the honeysuckle kisses.
I crave your life.
I crave its ruby existence.
I crave your mind.
I crave our silly conversations.
I crave your smile.
I crave the happy warmth.
I crave your world.
I crave to exist in its golden heaven.
I crave everything about you.

But mostly I crave the simple love you give me in all moments throughout our prior and future lives within a universe that would be only dark if your eyes, lips, life, mind, smile, and world did not exist in it for all of eternity with me by your side wishing for you the most happiness that could ever be accomplished in this gloriously shining life that is much more glorious because you do love me and I know you do and I love you and always will because you are the light in my eyes, the craving of my soul, and the true meaning of my existence and I will forever be thankful to your mother for one thing: your birth.

(Created for my wife’s birthday on July 25th, 2008)

The strength of the red, the caring of the blue.
Are they the sole? No, there’s also the white
of the clouds and of the pure eagle’s flight.
But white is a rainbow of dew (or due?)

Is white due over the red or the blue?
Yes, it is due an explosion of light.
Enlightenment is not ever a fright
unless the red and the blue say it is true.

White is all of the colors working together.
The mother blue and strong red must step down
from soap boxes and untie the tether
and be part of white, part of the ether
that poisons and cures the pink, green, and brown.
White is not the cow, it is the leather.

“Mr. Luclin,” said the little boy. He sat among the other children watching the old man closely.

“Yes, Scotty?”

“Will you tell us a story?”

“Of course, of course,” said Christian Luclin. “But I don’t know if I can remember any right now,” he said as he rubbed his bearded chin.

A sigh could be heard across the gathering of children. Christian Luclin was the best storyteller on the block. Children would gather around him at about this time every day looking for a fantastical story of wizards, witches, dragons, and more. The parents thought the old man to be eccentric. He had moved into this apartment complex only ten years before, and most of his friends were children. The blue sparkle in his eyes was reassuring to them, however. So they let their children listen to the stories. It kept them occupied while the parents prepared dinner. He was supposedly a rich man, which made them wonder why he chose this place to live. It was one of the more rundown apartment buildings in the city.

Christian Luclin started to laugh and the children smiled, knowing he was only teasing them.

“Christian Luclin, not having a story to tell? Bah,” he said as he looked around the room to make sure all of the children were paying attention. Other than Bobby, who was secretly picking his nose, the children were all staring at him, waiting patiently.

“It began long ago, as most of my stories do, when Saphrym, a boy who was soon to become a man, was fighting the trees and the squirrels with his wooden sword…” Read the rest of this entry »