Osamente Kurzwarer

Up the stone path

Under the archway

The children walked together

To the house of Osamente Kurzwarer

 

The House was tall

And Osamente as tall as the house

He was an imposing man

And always wore a frightening expression

 

He was shunned by many

But the children knew a secret

Osamente was a lover

Of candy and all things sweet

 

Osamente was, after all, a child at heart

And he shared his candy

With everyone who dared

To be befriend him

 

The sun was bright

And beautiful was the weather

As the children walked together

To Osamente Kurzwarer

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Silence

Your silence is an impenetrable wall
Sometimes I wish I could seep through the cracks

Secrets

There were things no one knew about him. That is why the FBI took him away.
A black van quietly pulled over in front of his house as he left for work. The door opened and a gun beckoned. He climbed inside. They blindfolded him. There was no talking, everything was done in silence.

They put him in a room. Locked it. Then unlocked it and put one of their men inside. Then locked it again. The man asked him questions.

What is it you’re not telling us?

I’ve told you everything, he would reply.

This continued. Eventually the questions became more penetrating. Each reluctant answer revealed a small piece of information. He admitted to being sensitive about his coffee-stained teeth. The FBI man scribbled it down in his little writing pad. Then he would sit down on the table provided in the room and type his notes into his laptop. Then he would ask more questions. Apart from the questions, there were lectures and warnings and assurances.

We need to know everything about everyone, the FBI man would tell him. What may be trivial minutiae by your standards could be a crucial piece of evidence for us. In the fight against evil, nothing should be left to chance. And we mean it. We cannot have people going around the streets without their profile readily available to us. The power of evil grows everyday, and the most important weapon against it is information. You’re not evil, we know, of course you aren’t. Well, you think you aren’t. But to us you’re a black spot. We need to color you. You need to look nice to us. Nice and colorful. If you’re black spot on our map, you’re suspicious. You don’t want to look suspicious, do you? Trust us, this is all for a good cause. This information is extremely private. We do not share it with anyone unless there is good reason to. And we wouldn’t even ask for anything from you if it weren’t for a good reason. This is strictly for the purpose of fighting evil. If you will not cooperate we will have to resort to more, well, severe methods.

He didn’t talk, so severe methods it was.

After 10 days he was released. Dropped in the middle of nowhere.

Where had he been this whole time? His family, friends, and neighbors asked. He didn’t say. He didn’t remember.

The FBI man filled in the last remaining cell on his spreadsheet, under the preferred toothpaste column. Crest Extra-Whitening.

The Hole In the Ground

I am a hole in the ground. I feel empty. Ants and rabbits and foxes and even people would fall into me. They just fall through. They go somewhere. I don’t know where I lead to. Maybe they die, maybe they find a way to escape, I don’t know. I feel bad for causing their misfortune, but that is just what I am. I can’t help it. I’m a hole. They should watch their step.
Every time I see an animal or a person walk by, a part of me wishes they would walk over me and fall inside. They would fall through and I would never see them again. But for that fleeting moment, I have some interaction with them. I don’t know what they feel as they fall through me. Surprise? Shock? Anger? Hatred (for me)? I only feel love for them.

One morning I hear loud beeping and mechanical grunting. I hope that whatever it is watches its step. I also wish that it falls inside. But then I see the large robotic arm swaying in the air and it dumps all of this dirt into me. It feels me up with dirt. I am no longer a hole. Nothing will ever fall through me again.

Guilt

I drove to the food store with a heavy heart. My cold, lead heart was with me wherever I went, whatever I did. I parked the BMW and stepped into the parking lot. Just outside the entrance sat a homeless man on the pavement. He was young, about my younger brother’s age. I looked away and kept my distance from him, because I didn’t want to be reminded of my brother, of my family. But I couldn’t help but glance at him again, and that’s when he smiled. Not at me, someone else. But it was the smile itself that captivated me. I stood still and watched him smile. It was an incredible smile. One of complete bliss. Almost as if there was nothing painful in his life. And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than that smile.

The Monster

There was a riot. And the Lord knew that riots are never a good sign. The peasants had grown unhappy enough that they actually decided to do something about it. How did it happen? It’s my fault, the Lord thought. In a way, it was. When the Lord had raided the town and usurped all power, he had given the peasants more freedom and more land. Inside the village’s secure, walled borders, the peasants had begun to enjoy a new, more fulfilling life. All of that began to change when the knights in the surrounding villages became belligerent. The Lord’s position as the Lord of the village became precarious. To defend himself he took away some of the peasants’ freedom, and some of their land. And took some of the young men as soldiers for his use. All of this angered the peasants. They voiced their concerns, and the Lord promised them the changes were only temporary. It would all end and it was for the greater good. Keeping him in power was for their own good. The Lord may very well have spoken the truth, because under his rule the peasants lived a good life, better than they ever had and better than those of the peasants in villages around them. And even after the Lord had forced some changes, their lives were still not nearly as bad as they used to be. But the Lord, by giving them more, had raised their expectations. The old standards no longer applied. And the Lord’s promises and excuses didn’t work for long. The peasants picked up their pitch forks and torches and showed up at the Lord’s manor, demanding his head on a platter. The Lord pacified them that night. But it wasn’t a good sign. Riots never are, as the Lord knew.

Now his position was unsafe, not just from outside forces, but from inside as well. His soldiers were unwilling to fight for him. And worse, they were threatening him with his very own weapons. Something had to be done. The Lord finally sought his vizier’s advice on the matter. It wasn’t something he liked doing, since the vizier’s suggestions would often include decapitation and mutilation of the peasants. In fact that seemed to be his solution to most problems. His techniques may very well have been effective, but the Lord wasn’t nearly evil enough to implement them. But now, he was desperate, and was willing to do whatever it took to preserve his position in power.

So what do you recommend, he asked the vizier, cut off their heads?
No, no, no, that wouldn’t do you any good, my Lord.
Really? Then what do you suggest?
No, my Lord, this requires something far more drastic.

OK this is it for now I will add more to this later

The Red Glow

It all started the night before when she noticed the red glow in the tree. She stood in the darkness of her room staring out the window . Waiting for it to move, to act. To her, it was a sentient being. But it stood still, even as the branches and leaves around it swayed with the wind. Fall reluctantly decided to move. She was afraid the red glow might move and she would miss it. Or that it might disappear and never return. But she had to wake up her family and show them what she saw. She thumped across the house, yelling “wake up! wake up!” with every step. Soon all the lights in the house were lit, but the family stood outside at the door.
Everyone gazed at the red  glow. No one spoke. In part because the fear and excitement had blocked their throats and froze their lips. But also because they didn’t know what to make of what they saw. They all expected it to move. They wanted it to move. They were to afraid to approach it, and it would have been a relief had the red glow just hovered away out of sight. Fall wanted to take a closer look, but her parents had given her strict orders to stay put. And her mother held her firmly by the arm for good measure. Her three younger siblings stood clutching the parents’ legs.
Fall saw the red glow as something truly unknown, something new that was just being discovered. Every new thought about it sent shivers down her spine. She blinked tears out of her eyes. She felt like crying, but not because she was sad or hurt. It was some other emotion entirely. Some unknown feeling that she was just discovering. Maybe, she thought, it was awe, but something more.
The parents had shared Fall’s feelings for a moment, but their minds, instead of wandering in the mysterious, rushed to the mundane. They decided it was probably a prank. A red light bulb left there to scare us. They were now angry. At the prankster and at themselves, for falling for it. For not being smart enough to know better. “Come on, let’s go inside,” they said and led the children inside.
“But it’s too bright to be a light bulb isn’t it?” protested Fall. But she was ignored.
She felt disappointed. What if it is just a light bulb? But she wouldn’t give up. As soon as her mother had left the room and her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she pulled away her blanket and rushed to the window. The red glow was still there, standing still as ever.

The next thing Fall knew, her room was bathed in sunlight. Out the window the red glow was gone. She rushed to the tree and nothing was there. No red glow. No red light bulb either.

 

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