The 80’s Dream

Riding out into the sunset.  I feel the engine beneath me.  The sun pressing against my skin.  The smell of the ocean.  Skies purple.  Waves white, crisp.  Sand golden yellow.

My hand-me-down bomber leathers I got from dad.  My bag hanging precariously off my shoulder.  Gloves dirty, petrol smelling.  Tank full.

You holding on my waist.

Be by my side, forever and always.

Seeing people playing games.  I glanced back at you, a smirk crosses your face.

Riding free, escaping the every day.

I lean back my chair, and stand up.  Standing in front of the mirror, I see a skinny, pimple riddled teen looking back at me.  I sigh, and look towards my desk.

“Maybe one day, that game will be real.”

Be by my side, forever and always.

via Daily Prompt: Solitary

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Moving Backwards

I love the feeling and sound of rocks beneath my steel toed boots.  The crunch, the slight dust pick up.  My black jeans scoffed with dust; a hard yesterday.

The lake was hauntingly calm this morning.  The sun barely rising.  Sky blue.  Moon strong.  I brought myself down to a crouch, coffee in hand.  I gave it a soft blow, feeling the steam hit my eyes.  The trees reflected off the water in a perfect mirror image.

The air prickled my dry fall skin.  Reminded me of being on the water with you.  A dad and his son, hitting the lake before dawn.  Looking for that perfect catch.

Mr. Dawning’s boat sat idly by.  Anchored deep.  I could easily put you and I on that boat.  Familiar.

Just a young boy, encumbered by a life jacket he didn’t want to wear.  Looking up to you as a Godly figure.  A man of great respect, a man I loved.

We would sit and talk (you talked, I listened).  At the end of the day when we caught nothing, neither of us had any regrets.

Every cloud in the sky, every place that I hide, tell me that I was wrong to let you go.

Looking back down at the rocks under my boot, I ran my fingers around them.  Picking up a few, filtering them through my fingers.

Am I moving backwards? Maybe with the promise of tomorrow – I can start a new.

via Daily Prompt: Prickle

Stephanie’s Smile

It had been many years since my wife and I took the kids to the state fair.  Although they were still young enough to enjoy it, life had crept up on us.  Time after all is always creeping closer.  This year, we would go and have a great time.

The wife took the eldest and went on some of the larger rides, while I took our youngest, Stephanie, to the carousel.

“The brown horse, Daddy! I want to ride the brown one!” she said ecstatically.

“Okay sweetie, when the ride stops and the man says you can go, make a dash for it!” I instructed.

As I watched this tiny human bounce up and down, smiling from ear to ear, laughing hysterically at nothing – I sat in awe.

I wondered if now, at my age, if I could ever find something in life that would make me feel as my daughter did riding this mechanical horse.  I wondered about the men or women who crafted it.  The precision, the colors, the sanding involved to make each horse and poll rose-pedal smooth.

For most of us, things in life don’t always pan out.  Unfortunately, that’s life.  People often say you can sleep and be miserable, or never sleep and be happy.  What if you don’t want to sleep, but can’t find your passion.  What if you have ever opportunity in the world to find that gift, but it always eludes you.  One can’t help feeling guilty.  One can’t help feeling like they are squandering opportunities, perhaps being viewed as lazy.

My mind continued to race as I watched Stephanie laugh and spin.  I hope something out there is for me, something out there is waiting.  But how do I find it?

My wife returned with our eldest, Patricia, both of them laughing away.  A mother and daughter bond now stronger from the day together.

I put on a happy face, and we walked back to the car.  My head sunk low as I watched my feet move forward, one after the other.

I should be the happiest man in the world, yet I felt trapped and alone.

Where is my carousel?

via Daily Prompt: Carousel

O Diabo

O Diabo (Portuguese) “The Devil”


“Dad, wait!” I wailed.

We were constantly late in the morning. What should be a relaxing moment to begin the day, always began as a running of the bulls.

Dad was tall, he could take longer strides.  Sure, I was tall too (one of the tallest in my class) but I was only 5.  I simply couldn’t keep up with my old man.

That morning was no different.  His trench coat swung through the air like a parachute, smacking me in the face with every step.  His neatly pressed suit grabbed the eyes of onlookers, at least that’s what I thought.  At 6 foot 8, I think people were more impressed that he could find a suit that fit.  It clearly wasn’t tailored.

We ran and ran, my hand me down shoes taking ever more of a beating.  The holes in my socks were causing blisters.

“Dad, pick me up!”

“We’re almost there, you can walk – it’s good for you!”

The station that morning was bustling with activity.  Horns blaring, people shouting, the intercom lady drowning them all as the volume seem to be cranked up to 11.  I always took in all the sights and sounds.  My curious little mind was always fascinated by what I saw.  To be out in the real world.  Experiencing it.  Feeling it.

I sat on the bench as instructed by my father, and read my comic book.  “The Amazing Spider-Man” or “The Avengers”.  I got lost in their escapades.  The colors, the action, the adventure.  I marvelled in the wonderment of such a universe.

As I turned the last page of my comic, I noticed the station had died down.  People had left.  It was almost if it as abandoned.  “How long had I been reading?” I wondered.

At the entrance were 2 tall, strong men.  Dressed in what was described at the time as a “power suit”.  A suit that cost as much as a used car.  At the exit, the same.  Their bodies turned away from me.  I tried to see who they were, but you can’t tell who is who with slicked back, greased hair and a hat.

My eye panned down towards the floor.  I sat staring at my beaten old shoes.  I began to go into shock.

“Where was everyone? Where was my dad?”

“Ahem…”

I slowly lifted my head, my eyes blurry with tears. As I wiped them away, I saw a small stocky figure standing gloomily over me.

“Michael, my name is Alessandro Giovanni.  You’ll be coming with me.”

via Daily Prompt: Amble