Thought Pasture

The Distance There is a woman, standing on a ridge, looking out upon the water of Galway Bay. It seems to go on forever Mary thought. Like looking out to the future. Clouds, clear sky, currents that might take you anywhere.  And tides like emotion, washing back and forth over a heart.  A heart that had no idea what the future was.  It knew the present. And had lived through the past. And none of it seemed to fit anymore. None of it seemed to satisfy.  She wanted to just jump in and swim, fall asleep swimming and awaken in a new life. Emerge somewhere, open her eyes, and then she would know what life held. This evening though, the sun was fading. And the light became dimmer on the water. Soon the light would go with the rising of the moon.  Soon, thought Mary. Soon, I shall go with the light, and the moon would have to rise over Galway Bay all by itself. She turned and began her walk back to the small white sto...

  Look who's here. I can’t believe you made it. Why? I told you I would come. I know but after the alien abduction, I wasn’t sure you would want to. Quite the contrary. Now I am determined to make my own decisions on where I go. What I do and dammit I’m going to do it. Live as fully as possible. What was it like on the ship? It was sterile. Apparently their whole world is fairly sterile White light everywhere. But no shadows. I learned we only get this body on loan and what we fill it with and what we do with it is up to us. Free will. They don’t really have it. Everything is scripted. There is no chaos. And they are intrigued by what we do here. Most of all they are shocked that we are racing towards a more sterile life of our own choosing. Oculus and staring at small screens, while the whole world is available for our bodies. And our real experiences. It makes them sad actually. To think we are giving it up. And we don’t even realize what we have.

It was the wallpaper. He saw the baby's face. But the baby never came home. His wife never came home. All he could see was what wasn’t there anymore. He began peeling the paper off the walls. Slowly at first almost with reverence, then carelessly recklessly Until he was in a frenzy ripping paper. Steaming and ripping. Steaming and ripping. One last look in the face of the vision he had held for himself before slumping melting Like the glue that held the paper fixed to the wall. He crumbled fetal heaving in a torrent of tears Shrieking in silence bursting within. You don’t know. You don’t know until you do. And then what.