Addiction

The disease that eats away at every corner,

The shot you pretend to pray will make you feel warmer,

And you’re alone again.

Left to mourn within.

And it goes on and on and on…

Alone, you wear that dress too sheen,

Why do you want the world to see?

You’re proudly the dullest trinket on the shelf,

Pushed far back into the dark by a passerby.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You said you wouldn’t drink today…

The facade falls away,

And you’re just alone.

Woman Lying on Kitchen Cabinet Holding Wine Glass

Why do you choose this life?

Or did it choose you?

Today

I have been searching for a new digital camera… Oh yes, indeed. I have always loved photography and it’s high time I start including snapshots and stories from my unremarkable life with you all.

I have decided change my blog up slightly to include tidbits of the world around me. I am still working on The Spiritual Anchor series, for those who are interested!

I am simply looking to a new future for my blog and to make my cozy little space on the internet everything I have been hoping for!

Hang tight ladies and gentlemen. 🖤

 

Caitie

The First Snow

 

Don’t you just love the first snow?

 

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Photo is my own and is not to be used without my expressed permission.

 

I don’t know if I am just the typical Coloradan girl; enamored with mountains and deep carved trails leading to nowhere or if the first snow truly is adrift with magic?

There was a time when I was single, carefree, just hitting my early twenties with pupils aglow at the brilliance of nature. I don’t mean to sound as if I have turned into some haggard, bitter woman in her late 20’s. After all, how does a few years do that? It doesn’t. Youth just has a special feeling unlike any other. There was always a spark then. I feel as if my twisted life kept it from ever fully igniting, but, there was a special glimmer when winter would finally rear it’s head.

Especially when I would rush to my apartment window with a dog hot at my heels to see the first flakes of snow slowly fall to the ground.

I would pace for a moment, just a moment… before abruptly whistling for my dog and rushing to my unkempt closet. I would grasp at tattered hoodies, hurriedly flip through snow-pants that had gathered dust, and twisting a favorite scarf around my neck. Satisfied with my impromptu outfit, I would jump into boots and snatch up a leash. I was off to embrace the enchantment of the season change.

There were fleeting moments along the trail that I felt as if I were between two worlds.

Between fall and winter, at a standstill of emotion that only nature evokes.

Did you ever feel that?

 

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Photo is my own and is not to be used without my expressed permission.

 

I will always say that it is the smallest things that make up our lives. Living between two worlds is invigorating. It’s an experience that is fleeting, a moment that you have to reach out and claim before it passes.

There are not many things in this world like the first snow of the year. Where death overtakes as far as the eye can see in a clean white sheet.

Have you ever wandered the freshly dusted trails where all color is fading? Where a smile curves your lips with the knowledge that in just a few months time…

rebirth will revisit us all.

 

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Photo is my own and is not to be used without my expressed permission.

 

Have a blessed winter.

 

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Photo is my own and is not to be used without my expressed permission.

 

 

 

Caitie

 

When

will the clouds dissipate? When will the sun peer through the grey sky and touch the world below? I am so alone.

 

But…

I don’t think even the light could bring me warmth anymore.

Sacha

She stood in the kitchen, towering over an abandoned sink filled with crusted dishes that emanated the pungent smells of a another chore unfinished. There was a slight breeze fluttering through a crack in the window frame before her. The cool air gently weaved across her face, causing her hair to cascade against her shoulders. She had never noticed that crack before, but it glared at her now with the malicious intent of pulling her back to the moment. Pulling her back to the task at hand and away from her fading heart. Pulling her away from all of the longing and regret.

But, her fragile hands kept trembling as she stared out of the window.

Her tired mind continued to reel against reality to summon fragments of a broken past.

The police had called her to the station that morning. There was newfound security footage from the old abandoned boat dock. Why would anyone have a camera there? She wondered as her fingernails had viciously dug into her tightly crossed arms as they pulled up the recording.

That was the night Leon left, and was not taken. The night he chose to leave her of his own free will. She had believed he just didn’t react in time, that he was careless and paid the ultimate price. His mother had been adamant, after all. She was so firm on the subject that she pushed Sacha to fight for the life insurance money “she was owed.”

Sacha never wanted the money.

She never wanted a goddamn dime. She wanted answers, sure. Who wouldn’t? Who doesn’t search for answers when it comes to love?

Through Sacha’s agreement to file a claim and Leon’s mother pressing her to find closure through cash, the investigation had begun.

The insurance company had done their research. Eventually, they washed their hands of her. They had found the evidence they needed to deny her in the face of tragedy. The fucking camera that sat alone, pointing at just the perfect angle to see what no one else had seen.

Leon’s suicide.

The police had called her in to the station out of their own perceived kindness, but, she wished she had said no to going down there. The amended death certificate should have been enough of an answer for what she had been seeking. The phone call from the day before where she spoke with a man named Paul from the insurance company had told her enough to know she shouldn’t bother looking further. That she should nod her head and move on.

“Sorry, ma’am. Your claim has been denied and we have sent a letter to accompany this phone call. After looking into this matter, we cannot fulfill the accidental death claim. We give our condole-“

She had hung up then. Her choking sobs overpowering her.

She never wanted the money.

She shouldn’t have looked. She knew better.

She had ignored her own intuition. She had followed the advice of a puffy-eyed mother-in-law and then a complete stranger who donned a badge and spoke in an emotionless voice.

And she had desperately searched the small screen as they hit play. The overcrowded, dingy police room suffocating her senseless.

There was Leon’s car; crashing into the glassy surface of the silent lake. They all watched as his car slowly sank, the ripples settling and the water bubbling around the vehicle. At one point, a lanky officer clicked hastily to fast-forward the video since this was a slow process. The car took an hour to submerge itself completely. An excruciating hour of Leon never breaking free. An hour of no struggling. An hour of him alone with his thoughts of her… His thoughts of them.

An hour to change his mind.

The broken side rail and skid marks discovered the next morning had been the only indicator to passers-by that anything had taken place in the night. The police were called and his car was pulled from the lake the next afternoon after an abrupt search of the waters. They had been the only pieces of evidence until now. But, now they all knew. Everyone knew.

An hour.

Sacha didn’t understand and she knew she never would.

They were going to be a family, a tight knit circle of overflowing love and unconditional support. They were trying… They had been trying to have a baby. A tiny soul to guide through this life, they had been trying. They still could be.

They had been trying.

How could he leave her? How could he abandon their future? After all of the doctors appointments? After all of the days spent decorating the spare room? And the afternoons they shared window shopping for the perfect first plush to dangle before their newborn?

Unless, that was just it. He couldn’t think of any other way to tell her he was done.

It was all her fault, and she knew it.

She was infertile.

That word drug through her heart like a razor-blade and her breathing became a struggle as her lungs tightened.

He left this world because he just couldn’t do it anymore. But, he couldn’t simply tell her that. For all of the things Leon was, he wasn’t a cruel man. At least he had spared her a note, because she was sure anything he would have written would haunt her forever.

Sacha suddenly noticed her tears splashing into the bowl just below her. A bowl that had sat in her sink for days, maybe even weeks. She watched the tiny ripples settle together into a small reflective lake. She could see her eyes staring back at her from the tiny pool of water. Boundless sorrow straining above dark circles.

She stared into the murky water, and for a moment, Leon’s eyes appeared in the place of her own. The pupils of his once crisp blue eyes slowly dilated… Transforming into a cold, unfeeling, antarctic stare.

They bore into her.

How could you!?” She screamed as she slammed her fist into the sink. Pain suddenly flashing through her fingers and traveling up into her slender shoulder.

There was a sharp sound of glass shattering, and it echoed throughout the empty house.

Droplets of crimson blood now filled the cracked bowl. It spilled through the new break and mixed with the water as it rushed down the sink.

Sacha was breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her ears. And she grasped at the fresh wound between her forefinger and thumb. The gash curved upward onto the back of her hand, throbbing painfully.

She stared at the blood, blinking down at the bowl she had angrily smashed.

The crack glared back at her, it called her back to reality.

She turned away, gripping her torn hand. She began the short walk to the bathroom down the hall.

Leon stood in her place. He couldn’t look away from the rushing blood that was slowly dissipating from view down the drain.

He just couldn’t bare to follow her.

He looked over to the beaten guitar resting against the coat rack.

He would never get another hour.

Part III

Disclaimer – Trigger Warning

I feel I should write a little something to you guys about my latest posts. The characters I have created in my Spiritual Anchor series are all fictional. Their thoughts and the overall content surrounding them are fictional. This series may be hard for some viewers to read, and I feel I should place a warning on my blog to help protect you and my writing from being misconstrued. Please, contact me with any thoughts or concerns. I am always here, and always willing to listen. Thank you all for being loyal followers. I’m sending all of my love to every one of you! Thank you for the undying support. I hope you enjoy my blog!

Caitie

Adjusting

To a strangers home was a painstakingly tiring process. The light fixtures were always slightly too bright, causing you to squint crystalline eyes at all hours. The smells were never familiar and the sounds could cause the most patient man to toss and turn at night. No couch feels right to the touch; especially if your permeable fingers slip right through to the springs within by simply exerting too much pressure.

It was hard not to, these days. Every fucking thing was out of place. It was hard not to clench fists and slam them against all surfaces constantly.

This was not home.

He slumped onto the torn couch, leaning his head back slightly and letting out an exasperated sigh. He could hear giggling from the kitchen and he cringed with frustration. He covered his diaphanous eyes with one arm, wishing they could hear his cursing. Oh, how he wished that he could go home.

Here they come. Their hands were intertwined and their voices reached sing-song vibrations as they mouthed off to one another. They released hands swiftly, and the man fell into the chair opposite the old damp couch. She laughed as she fell backward into place right next to him, the ghost. He would forever be the down-trodden entity she could not see but never ceased to torment with her joy. Her feet were touching his invisible knee and he jerked it away without removing the arm over his once bright blue eyes.

He heard the soft plink of his guitar being strummed and his gut suddenly twisted in knots.

He turned onto his side as he pulled his lengthy legs from the floor. He desperately wanted to snatch a pillow and cover his ears.

The man played in silence for a while while as his girlfriend scrolled on her phone, sitting in absolute comfort and serenity. The moment was only broken when the man spoke.

“Honey… Did I ever tell you about who used to own this guitar?”

She shook her head, laying her phone down on one knee to focus on his words.

“He… killed himself.”

She gasped, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. Who knows? Such a cowardly thing to do. He had a wife and a home…” He trailed off as he let that sink in, strumming the guitar once more.

“Wh- what was his name? Do you know?” She inquired, concern wrinkling her brow.

“His name was Leon. Oh and look at this,” he tilted the guitar toward the light, the scribbled word Leon was now glaringly obvious.

“I wonder… I bet he was really kind. That makes me so sad.” She frowned, running a finger along the edges of her phone in an attempt to stay grounded during such an uncomfortable conversation.

“No. He’s a coward. Like I said, who knows what he was thinking, but, it’s just such a petty and selfish act in my opinion.”

Leon was standing now.

It was uncontrollable. His hands were trembling. A darkness began to fall over the room. He was an invisible predator towering over it’s naive prey.

“You know… They say you go to Hell when you commit suicide for a reason, dear. You can’t just leave your loved ones behind like they’re nothing-”

An old lamp in the corner began to flicker and the man fell silent, his eyes widening. Leon’s entire body was shaking and his breaths were shallow. He had never felt such anger.

“Babe! Babe, I think we should stop talking about this. I am getting super freaked out!” She yelped, curling in on herself as she huddled closer to her boyfriend.

“I’m not scared of a coward!” He shouted, standing with the guitar in one hand. He dropped his whisky glass on the table after taking a quick swig, a scowl creeping across his face. And he too, was shaking like a fall leaf.

More lights began to flicker repetitively as Leon faced off with what he felt was his attacker. Those words had been said so carelessly, how could the man not understand regret? Weakness? Pain? Leon had never once meant to hurt anyone, at the time he had intended for quite the opposite effect. Leon guessed that perhaps it was selfish, it was foolish. He had never truly thought of the consequences… But, his anger was simmering just below the surface now as the man lifted the guitar over his head with both hands.

“Get out of here, ghoul! Or I will break it!”

“Babe! What are you doing? Are you crazy? Stop it!”

Leon just stood there, he was completely breathless now.

“I’ve seen the movies,” the man said, pushing his girlfriend’s dainty hand from his shoulder. “I’m not scared. Not of a coward.”

Crash!

The small bookcase in the corner adjacent to the kitchen fell over and behind it’s chaos was Leon. He wasn’t sure how he had accomplished the act, but, he didn’t care. Leon stood among the shattered action figures and scattered books. His eyes boring straight into the man. Praying he would break the guitar, wishing for his freedom at last.

The man was about to bring the guitar down on the grimy wood floor, his slender knuckles turning white as he gripped the neck of Leon’s lifeline. He drew it over his head, his arms shaking from fear and adrenaline-

His girlfriend screamed and grabbed his wrists.

“Please! Stop it! Don’t do this.”

They struggled for a moment as tears began to pour out of her eyes. Once he noticed how truly upset and stubborn she was he threw the guitar into the kitchen with a frustrated grunt.

“Fine. You take care of it! I don’t want that coward’s shit in my house anyway!” He stormed off down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door with startling finality.

She was still crying and Leon stepped reluctantly from the wreckage to stand before her. His hollow heart ached all over again as guilt began to build, piling on top of his never-ending regret.

She stood there sobbing for a few moments before turning to the kitchen.

Leon walked in step with her as they crossed the threshold to find the guitar surprisingly intact on the pale tiled floor.

She grasped it gently and began to walk to the front door.

Leon didn’t move.

What is she doing?

She approached the door, turning the handle violently as she practically fell onto the porch.

He followed.

They both moved reluctantly down the steps and around the muddied pathway to the dumpster that resided just outside the kitchen window.

She paused, the lid in her hand as she nestled the guitar among the bulging cheap trash bags and overflowing beer bottles.

She turned her face away as she snapped the lid shut, more tears seeping just over her lashes.

Leon studied her face, wading through her emotions as she pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her worn hoodie. She struggled to light a smoke and Leon cupped his hands to block the wind that passed straight through his fingers. She tossed the cigarette into the mud, her patience completely zapped.

He stepped back, slumping his shoulders as they both stared at the broken cigarette she had ground into the watery dirt. He had never connected with an inanimate object more in his death. Tossed aside. Useless and quickly forgotten. He kneeled down, shaking his head sadly.

No.

That was the problem… he would never be forgotten.

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” she said as she turned to walk back down the pathway.

She left.

She left Leon alone.

He was alone and chained to an anchor of death that would never be lifted from the depths of his ignominious and recreant decision in life.

Part III

The Choice

Was his at death. He could move on, leave this world behind. Finally stepping from this physical realm of normalcy into the unknown beyond.

Or

The dark entity that had appeared before him had presented him another choice. It had turned back to him, a wicked cruel smile panning across it’s grayish lips.

You can choose one item. One thing in this world to shackle yourself to… Forever.

He hadn’t given pause, he didn’t even blink. He thought of his guitar, his wife, his life. He couldn’t let go. And this is how it all began, a spiritual anchor that shackled him between two worlds.

And so began his eternity of rotting in a loveless basement, where there was no light. The used guitar was settled nicely on a shelf in the storage closet. She had placed it there after the funeral, tears splattering the used wood and pooling at the bridge of strings. Her shaky arms fighting not to drop it before she hid it away from the world’s prying eyes.

He paced, night and day… His steps resounded hollowly in his ears and they drowned out his dark song. His voice would call to her from below. A ghost repenting for a life he had thrown away so carelessly, for the moment of weakness that had brought him to his knees.

Then, one day the basement door was opened.

She never came downstairs that day, but, he could feel her there. Her hesitation at the threshold. Hear her sorrowed sobs.

What was she doing?

Finally, her plan began… the clean-up. That was the moment he started to fear his seemingly endless days in the basement were numbered. All at once, she was there. Hurriedly bustling about, her hair tied up in the gently waving knot of blonde.

He loved her this way. There were moments where he could almost touch her.

How he longed too.

The air was filled with a deep cinnamon smell that emanated from a candle on the desktop in the darkest corner. It flickered in a room that almost mimicked an ominous field at dusk. A place where animals stood on edge, their ears twitching at every sound. But, it was at this time of day when the grass tasted best.

He watched as she wiped the stringy cobwebs away from the ceiling, standing on dainty tiptoe and cursing under her breath. A crooked smile spread across his face, and he leaned with arms crossed against the wall to admire her work.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell?

His head snapped to face the doorway above as his nonexistent heart raced. He looked back to her, grasping for the moment that he had just been in… wishing it had stretched on forever.

She was gone.

A flash of blonde hair and the beat of tiny footsteps and she raced off to greet an unknown being, disappearing into the light.

He stood at the last step. He was gripping the stairwell railing with an invisible hand, clinging to a world that couldn’t see him.

He waited.

He waited there, desperately trying to catch an unknown conversation with a faceless visitor.

They appeared. Her beautiful slender legs coming into view, an old pair of baggy jeans beside her.

A man.

He was tall, slender, with scraggly hair that hung past his shoulders and a beard that never ended and was never tended. He had dark eyes and an almost devilishly kind smile, and they talked excitedly as they approached him.

It happened so fast. He had practically blinked and the closet was sharply pulled open.

His guitar was exposed, shining in the light of a dying candle.

He begged, harder than he ever had in his living years. He began to plead with her. His hands trembling as he grasped at an unfeeling shoulder, his shaky words falling on deaf ears.

No, no… I can’t leave you.

You… you can’t do this.

The man shook hands with her, despite noticing the breaking look that was so blatantly flashing in her eyes.

The deal was made.

He cried out, falling to his knees again and knowing that there was no way out this time. No moment of weakness could save him from the pain now.

He held his head in his hands as they passed him; scared of what this meant but completely unable to move.

He heard chuckling and the loud slam of a door. He was standing now, suddenly, and it was uncontrollable.

An urge overcame him to start moving, and he knew it was time to go.

He walked up the staircase slowly, the light overtaking him from a door that hadn’t been opened in weeks and now never seemed to close. His pace was slow, but, he couldn’t stop his feet from moving as tears streamed down his translucent face.

He was walking to her now.

She was curled up against the front door with her head against her knees. As he came closer, he was desperately struggling to stop. Aching to wipe away her tears. He had to hold her. He had to tell her everything would be okay, but, she had sent him away unknowingly and he couldn’t pause.

He couldn’t stop the inevitable.

He passed through the door into a world he could never leave.

But, one where he could no longer bare to stay.

Part II

`

Forlorn

­I have never forgotten,

Nor forgiven.

I bring it up,

Just to remind him.

But, does he see?

Do any of you?

I’m invisible.

Tangible, yet so far away…

 

And you’ll never see me again.

 

Caitie

The Hunted

­I lay in the damp grass,

Watching the clouds come to pass.

The day dwindled on,

A spindly broken baby fawn,

Stumbling and shaking,

Those tiny legs almost breaking.

She crouched to smell the flowers,

Weeds curling up her legs in bristly towers.

They pulled the darling to Earth,

But, what is it worth?

A cracked baby can’t shake loose from it’s shackles,

Or so that’s what I’m told…

 

Cloud cover turns to thunder,

Born of the darkness, a hunter.

2018-01-05