Everything Feels Wrong (Op Ed)

 

Everything feels wrong and I’m tired of pretending it’s not. I have felt this way for some time, but have kept it to myself. I’ve never done an opinion piece before, so bare with me as I find my footing here. It’s 4:38 AM on a random Wednesday in July. Not so random, actually. Two days before America’s 249th birthday. This past week has been a rough one, but that’s not what this is about.

This is about an unspoken truth we all know deep down but for some reason never vocalize. If it’s my job to do it, then so be it. Surely you’ve heard about the dead internet theory, but this is bigger than that. It’s a larger scale. It’s about an impending societal collapse, and not the fear mongering ones you read about daily. The economic collapse predictions are bullshit and stupid. The idea of a revolution of any kind is even dumber.

It’s not going to happen. If it was, we’d already be there. I’m not advocating for a civil war or a bloodbath of any kind. My point is what else needs to happen before you see it as clear as I do? That we are not the country who embodies that anymore. It’s funny to me that this country began based off a 3% tax on tea and unfair representation, and now we have infinity tax and zero representation. All that’s lead to is goofy fucking avatars and social media posts. Great job.

There are two sides of this coin, simultaneously. We live in equally the greatest time in human history in the present, but the darkest one in the not so distant future. So what have we done to take advantage of the greatest time to be alive?

Exactly that. Take advantage.

Take advantage of everyone and every thing under the sun. Everything on your social media feed is AI slop pushed by people in a content farm whom you’ll never know, never meet and honestly should never wish to. Humanity and authenticity is dead, creativity is severely lacking and we are all to blame for letting it get here. All of you. Me included.

We have all just went along with everything served to us, which is a shit platter by the way, made with just enough sugar and dyes to where it doesn’t taste like it. But you know it does. You know it. I know it. We all fucking know it. Yet we all just sit here and take it in. Somebody once told me something I’d never forget, “the right thing and the hard thing to do are almost always the same.” So what happened? Did we all just bitch out and accept our fate​?

Everybody is so ok with just being ok and it’s a problem that has lead to a soulless society. Major motion pictures are ones you’ve seen before with a half-assed fresh coat of paint. Our television series are imports from foreign lands that align with none of our values and even less of our ideals.

There are very few who want to fix it.

Why? Have you been beaten into submission by your overlords? Are we the new Serfs? Scratch that, the Serfs had it better. They didn’t have to slave away at long shifts with no guarantee of a vacation. We do. Where did the human drive and spirit go? I’m asking a serious question because it fucking baffles me why nobody wants to do anything special anymore.

They’ve incentivized unoriginal bullshit for everybody to consume on every screen you’re glued to. Whether it’s the small one in your pocket or the big one on your wall, you’re being lied to daily and accept it. I don’t even mean by just politicians. Do me a favor and ask yourself something. US only, the rest of you can sit this one out.

When is the last time you bought anything besides cigarettes, drugs or alcohol where you didn’t feel completely and utterly fucked over 20 minutes after buying it? You can’t answer it in good faith without going back at least 20 fucking years. It’s an embarrassment, the state of things. The saddest part is we’re never going back.

So unless you are of similar ilk as me, cut from the same cloth, crawled out of the same foxhole, you are contributing to it and I want nothing to do with you. Help change it or get the fuck out of my way while I do. I am beyond done with the lies, bullshit stories, shitty movies, garbage television, bad music and AI content that we’ve all let take over our once awesome fucking society.

Nobody is honest. Every post has an ulterior motive. Everything one side does gets cheered by one group and hated by another. You are all fucking stupid if you can’t see through it. Nobody has conviction anymore. Actually they do, it’s just green and all spends the same. Those aren’t convictions at all though, are they? If you can be swayed by money to change your values you are spineless scum and I detest your very being.

Some of you will read this and ask, “why is Joshua so mad?,” the better question is why aren’t you?

Make sure you go turn your TV on and watch the guy in the suit scoop some more shit in your mouth. Here comes the airplane! Fuck every single one of you who helped get us here. Sincerely. Back to work now. See you soon.

Thank You

 A very sincere and heartfelt thank you to all of you who have made this journey more fun than it had any business being. Writing is hard. It's self discovery wrapped in self hate, opinions shaped by observation and a final act of wringing your soul out in the sink and watching it spiral down the drain. While it is not easy, it's something that I must do, and will continue to do so. 

All gas, no brakes.

However, in order to reach the heights that I will inevitably get to, it was time to put this thing down. It's not an easy decision and I really, truly do thank each and every one of you. From ex lovers to strangers to friends to mentors, you all helped me get to the place where I can finally bring my writing to life. The last 14 years has been a ride. A wild one. These years have taken me to places that I have never written about but will now because the time is right. 

I am not leaving, I am branching out. This blog began as a hobby, something I'd just do because I was pretty okay at it. As I did it more, I got better than pretty okay. Because of you all, I now have the opportunity to take these stories further. Characters you've spent time with you will meet again, I assure you. 

This blog produced a book and a couple of relationships. None of them very good for me, but all necessary for me to become the writer I need to be, for you. I will now take my talents to the physical media world. I am working on a television show that will premiere on YouTube and then be shopped to major studios. It is my personal goal to never clock in to an actual job ever again within two years. Thank you for helping me get here.

You have spent hours with me. You have spent money on me. My hope is that you don't view it as a waste of either.  My end goal has always been television and film. If you'd allow me to do a quick time jump with you all, I'll explain how we got here.

It all started in 2005. I was in a very bad way in life at a very young age. Kicked out of high school, hanging around the wrong crowd, drugs, alcohol, you name it, had plagued my existence. I was none the wiser. It was a good time. Deep down I knew I needed a change, so I took it somewhat seriously. I was only 17 and thought I knew it all. Then I discovered a TV show that changed my life and the trajectory of it. 

That show was LOST. 

Sure, it was the trendy thing at the time and it was easy to get into. What it showed me was not what it showed others. It taught me what strong characters and even better writing could accomplish. What "doing it the right way" really meant. I view myself as a student of the game. While others would just watch, I'd study. 

Not only what they said, but when, matters. How to weave a story and when to turn it on its head. While others played sports or went for a swim or whatever leisurely activity they chose, I knew I was building a future for myself and those I care about. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary. I routinely got called names for this. Lazy was a common one. I just leaned into it, because if anybody knew what I was trying to build, they'd call me delusional. 

As it turns out, talent and a hint of delusion is what you need in this world as a creative. You can't allow other people to define you or get you off of your path. I am guilty of that, which is why my posts over the years have been sporadic at best. You all still showed up for me and I'm eternally grateful for it. It's hard to not be distracted by good times, drinking, drugs and women.  

I could not in good faith take things to the next step without thanking each and every one of you. If we've never met or communicated and you're just a reader, my gratitude is immeasurable. It's because of you I now realize I am every bit as good as I think I am.

If you are someone who has been in my life personally and helped me get here, you already know how grateful I am for the role you played in my growth. I will see you all soon, on screen with the premiere of my first television series. I will post the links here when they are ready.

This is not a goodbye. We're crossing a bridge together. One I should have crossed many, many moons ago. Let's change the mother fucking world.

See you soon.

- Joshua 

Victim of a Dream

  The sun beamed down from a cloudless Florida sky and seemed as if it targeted Hal specifically.

His brow began to bead with sweat as he clopped his way down his driveway to grab the daily

newspaper drop off and the mail. He sat on his front porch daily, waiting on the USPS workers arrival

and departure. He’d been doing this same routine for well over a decade, spanning several variations

postmen, and even one circled back to his route. He could taste last nights regrets on his breath as he

bent down to pick up the paper first and then next to his flamingo themed mailbox. It wasn’t over the

top like his neighbors. Nothing too flashy, just a flamingo wing that moved from the up position when

the mail was delivered and down when it was retrieved. Simple, fitting, effective.

    Strolling his way back up the driveway and past his brand new ‘86 Chevy Celebrity, which

prompted a small love tap on the front end as he approached his front steps. Outside was his blushing

bride, Sasha. In every sense of the phrase, she was ‘living the dream,’ never worked a day in her life,

never had to ask for a thing, and was given a weekly allowance of $700. He tossed the newspaper on

the round glass table that complimented the porch superbly. One thing Hal would always encourage

Sasha to do since they had first met was to embrace her stylish soul. She could walk into a thrift shop

with $20 and walk out looking like Princess Diana. It just clicked with her, she just got it. He hadn’t

gotten to the point where he was comfortable with her styling him, but he felt it wasn’t too far off. It

was still the 80’s after all. He had to hang on to one semblance of his masculinity.

    With that being said, he was just as much in the lane of living the dream as she was. Twelve

years her elder was only the beginning of a long list of how she’d make him feel like a winner in life.

The way she’d listen intently to things he was passionate about, even if she didn’t have an interest in

was only second to her looks. Admittedly, this was a vain way to live but he didn’t care how others

seen it. That didn’t matter. What did matter was how he saw things and how she took them and they

never antagonized an argument one between them. He always assumed they operated under an

unspoken agreement. He provided the life and she provided the leisure. Truthfully, calling what she

brought into his life ‘leisure’ was an unfair assessment. It was more than just that, she brought style,

fun and adventure. Her innocence was unmatched to him and honestly was cute. Her lack of

understanding of how the world worked was a given, she lived life on easy mode the whole time. He

may have been the only one in her life to not fault her for it.

    Who would expect a blonde bombshell such as Sasha to understand the inner workings of the

US financial system or credit debt? She was raised in privilege, closets packed to the doors with

Versace and Ralph Lauren. First names and last names were her thing and she’d never even had a

thought about anything else touching her skin. The palm trees that reached for the sun and hung their

leaves like heads of children in detention above them provided enough shade for it to actually feel

cool for a second. The gulf wind didn’t hurt either.

    Reaching for a handkerchief from his back pocket to dot his head, he watched as Sasha spun

the headline of the paper into reading view. She picked it up and placed it on the lap of her white

dress and read the leading story of the day to her husband.

    “Ooh! The Challenger is launching this evening, do you wanna go?!” It was that kind of

excitement and adventure that she made a staple of his life for the last three years that further

cemented the idea that he had made the correct decision with her. It was a long standing belief of his

that people put more thought into their next job rather the person they’d be spending the rest of their

lives with. Strangers and colleagues alike would never buy the idea that he put more thought into it

than, ‘wow she is stunning and wants to be with me,’ but he truly did. He took every aspect of her into

consideration and at the end of it all, decided that she was worth the headaches that came along with

her. Granted, they were minimal at worst, but still a headache nonetheless. Overspending wasn’t as

much of an issue when you were upper class, especially in July of 1986. That was her only real crime

against him, if it could even be classified as such.

    “Yeah, we could. We missed it last time. Maybe we can go see it land down too, how’s that

sound? I think it’s due back in a week or so. Something like that.”

Sasha’s face lit up, which was Hal’s favorite thing in the world and it wasn’t close. Her blonde

bangs danced around her small forehead from a combination of her excitement and the swift breeze

entering from the open end of their patio. It was more of a villa than a full out home, but it worked for

where they were in life. He was only in his mid 30’s, 34 to be exact and had already lapped nearly all

of his friends and colleagues in contrast. Just as everything else in this world, there were two sides to

a story, and sometimes three. Every marriage had it’s secrets and this one was no different. Behind

the facade of a happy wife who detested nearly everything about the man who stood in front of her.

His aging face was no longer cute to her. His thinning hair and even worse hairline wasn’t even the

main reason she fell out of love of with him. It was more about him not allowing her to be her own

woman.

    Sure, he let her buy what she wanted and handle all of the housework in which she no doubt

found solace in, but it was not the life she anticipated when she first moved in at 19. All of the things

that Hal thought Sasha enjoyed and appreciated about him actually disgusted her, and she was tired

of acting like they didn’t. His undying need of control, which she didn’t even think he was self aware

enough to notice, was gripping her throat like a noose. Each day felt like her she was inching the stool

a bit further away from her. His drinking had gotten worse, which she could not fathom how he didn’t

notice. Maybe he didn’t want to. Laying next to him was a chore, smelling that rotten whiskey on his

breath nightly.

    She was young and cared about her body. She didn’t treat hers like a temple or anything of the

sort, but she tried to make conscious decisions about what she put into it. Except the cigarettes, but

who wasn’t smoking those in the 80s? The entire country was like an airport bar. Even if you weren’t a

smoker, you were by default. Just hanging out with your friends would make you part of the club for

the night, whether you wanted to take the oath or not. One thing Hal taught her that she’d never

forget as long as she lived was to never to take action without a plan. He had a whole outline before

he proposed to her. She didn’t have one when she said, ‘yes,’ but she had one now, when she had

finally said, ‘no more.’

    A plan was required to get out of it as she never felt comfortable enough to talk to him about it

one on one. It wasn’t that the relationship itself was abusive, but she knew just how much he fancied

her and didn’t want to break him. Killing him would be easier on her long term. Besides, it wasn’t like

she’d be the one pulling the trigger. That’s the role her new boyfriend assumed when he got involved

with this whole mess of a situation. She knew that he wouldn’t turn down her puppy dog eyes and

girlish excitement. Anything she suggested he was game for and today was no different.

    Hal nodded at her as he stepped inside. She heard ruffling around and the sounds of various

items being tossed around. She sat on the porch for a minute or so, allowing her to feel the wave of

sadness and despair she’d have to act out later this evening. She wanted to do something special for

him before he was tossed into the ocean to be a hearty meal for some hungry shark down there, or

whatever else may be lurking. She took a deep breath and went over the plan once more in her head.

They’d get to the beach and watch the shuttle take off, she’d seduce him (which she was batting a

thousand at,) Alan would pull up, do the deed and they’d run off with the money and live happily

ever after. She was too inexperienced in the real world to realize that the odds of them both pulling

this off was negative zero, but she had love and faith to guide her.

    She rose to her feet and swung the door open and watched as her husband was holding a

photograph of Hal and his mom from when he was 7 years old. She slowly sat next to him and put his

arm on his shoulder and said softly, “oh honey, you’ll see her again some day.” Hal knew she meant it

in a warm way, and ultimately she was right. One day he would reunite with his dear mother and it

would be forever. He hugged his wife and wiped a tear from running down his face, apologizing for his

moment of weakness in front of her. She knew exactly what was going through his mind, “not very

manly of you, Hal.” She hugged him back and told him to go start the car and telling him that she’d

get the rest of the things together. The least she could do is offer up some grace in what would prove

to be one of their final meaningful moments together.

    He did as instructed and stepped out the door carrying a suitcase and picnic basket. She took

one last look at the place she ever called her own, taking it all in. The floral greens on the walls

accented the white tables spread throughout the house. She walked down the short hallway and

dialed Alan’s number, giving him the same instructions she gave Hal. She had two grown men wrapped

around her finger and she knew it. It was exhilarating, to be honest. She stepped into their bedroom

and grabbed a couple of blankets and walked out the door, approaching his prized possession, the

1986 Chevy Celebrity.

    She swung the passenger door open, tossing the blankets in the back seat and slammed the

door shut and towards a future she was certain of. The car started without a hitch, and down the road

they went. Only one of them knew the other wasn’t making the drive back, and he was absolutely

clueless about it. Just as she intended.  

Past Lives

   She hopped on the bus like this was no air beneath her. Her build was angel-esque, as if it chiseled by by hand in dedication to her mere existence, a shrine. Her method of transportation was her choice, and hers alone. Her fear of driving herself couple with her party lifestyle was an accident waiting to happen, if not worse. Lovelene was the furthest thing from vain, but valued her facial structure enough to care whether she flew front first through a windshield. As she paid her bus fare, she reshuffled the forest green backpack that dangled from her left shoulder, tucked just underneath her blonde locks. Lovelene ’s first course of action was to decide whether the back of the bus or the front of the bus was more suitable for her work commute. She made her way to the back, it was more spacious and offered the room to place her backpack next to her on a separate seat. She did just that, and preferred the solitude that came along with it. “Just her and her Air Pods against the world,” was something she always thought to herself but never said out loud. Too cringe. Even for her. She knew she didn’t have life figured out in entirety, but who does really? We are nothing if not a collection of regrets, mistakes with the occasional success story thrown in. As life would have it, we focus on the regrets and mistakes more than the triumphs. Just thoughts she had on public transport. Well, actually, that was a lie but it sounded good. She had random thoughts like that all day, every day. Like the cat she spotted outside the storefront she spent her nights at. The tip money alone was worth it, but she took home much more than money. Wise beyond her years, she observed life through sober eyes and appreciated the life lessons that came along with it. To be able to witness a serious man turn into a drunken asshole was something to behold. Not that she wasn’t guilty of it herself, she rationalized the only way she knew how. She was young, hot and knew she could, Lovelene could go out broke and come home with much more than a buzz. Hell, she sometimes even ended her night with enough oh afford an Uber home and anything her heart desired on Door- dash the next morning, but the case of the human condition was worth more than any paycheck or tip jar could ever offer. The bus hit a pothole that jerked her, and her bag in the air and back down to the seat. Her laptop hit the floor of the bus about four blocks from work and she scurried to pick up to ensure it was in working condition. As long as the screen wasn’t shattered she could make it work. Saved inside was a work project she had been working on in secret for the past seven months, two days and eighteen hours. The inspiration bloomed just as she did, from timid, anxious young girl to a marginally stronger grown woman. Well, by her standards. She was only twenty three years old but felt like she’d lived this before. Not this life in particular, but nonetheless. Never before had anybody had asked her about past lives and what hers may have been like. She could write a novella on who she thought she was before. She was royalty. She was royalty and she knew it, but present day her carried it with grace and elegance, not vitriol and contempt. Though she was stunning herself, she viewed the world realistically. She did not run nor hide from her pretty privilege. She loved every second of it. She adored every time a child jumped in her lap, someone randomly asked for help for something she knew they already knew. To live life on that level was a blessing and not a curse with the right perspective. The old version of her, the imperial princess of a land that was sunnier than the Los Angeles she now occupied was a cat lover. It was why she carried a cat pendant hooked onto the zipper of her book bag. Oh fuck. The book bag. She day dreamed herself into forgetting about the most important project in her life. She scrambled to pick up the backpack and check the laptop. Reaching into bag, other members of the bus began to ask if the laptop was alright. A burly gentleman sitting adjacent to her on the neighboring row of seats. He reached for the backpack, his hand touching hers, causing a jolt of electricity between them, causing him to drop the bag itself back to the floor. He apologized and reached him arm back to his own space and shortly after pulled the lever above granting his exit off of the bus. At once, he raised up and entered out of the side exit of the vehicle at a corner he clearly knew nothing about. Stumbling off of the bus and walking in a hurried, disoriented fashion, he stepped towards a cafe and through a nearby alleyway. As Love watches it unfold she screams for the driver to “stop the fucking bus!” who responds back that she has the option to request a stop just as the last passenger did, which got a hearty chuckle from the rest of the riders on the vehicle. She lets out a deep sigh and complies. The laptop was no longer her top concern, it was tracking down this mystery man in a suit whom she shared this ‘connection’ with. The bus came to a stop as requested and she gathered her belongings, laptop dangling out of the bag meant to carry it, rushing to the front of the bus to leave out of nothing more than pure instinct. Love hopped off the bus, hair in her face be damned, she was hunting this guy down. What they shared was more than just a static cling and it was clear they both knew it. Whether they wanted to admit it was an entirely different story that nobody reading this has time for. One thing she hated dealing with was hypothetical situations and questions. The ‘what if’ conversation got old. What happened to just letting it be? These were all thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand, but this was how she came to learn herself. There was a clear difference between the definition of the word happiness from 1972 than the one in 2025. Either way, situations just like this one showed her who she truly was. She was tired of ignoring the signs of her past life. The color purple would follow her everywhere, a very specific cat would cross her path several times a month. Not enough to keep a journal entry of it in her notes app, but enough to take notice of the pattern. She quickly turned the direction of her target and started sprinting across roadways, causing numerous car horns and brakes screeching from approaching traffic. Slurs and derogatory marks flew freely like a ticker-tape parade after a World Series championship win. After wading through the wave of pissed off humanity, she continued on her journey, laptop barely hanging in place from the bad she attempted to stuff it into. She had to improvise to speed up the chase. From afar she thought she spot him entering a cafe casually, which is what she would expect one in this situation to do. After shoving her way through a crowd of people tossing obscenities as she did so, the laptop once again fell to the ground, except this time it was clearly destroyed. The screen was completely detached from the keyboard panel. Game over. As she cradled the pieces, revealing a shattered screen and cuts on her arm from the tiny shards of glass spilling out of it. It wasn’t enough to warrant a crime scene but it was visibly watch droplets of blood roll off of her arm and onto the pavement below. A culmination of the last decade and a half, career dreams notwithstanding, the red below her feet mixed with tears dropping from her eyes. Just as she was having thoughts on giving up on the whole thing, the life, the sex, the human condition, hopes, dreams, getting high, the feeling that came with being sober didn’t feel worth it anymore. The tender lick of the ever familiar sand paper tongue of a checkered black and white stray cat strided out from a nearby alleyway and rubbed up against her legs, no fear for any potential cuts he may receive himself. People crowded around her to check on her safety as the cat began to lick away at the open wounds on her arms. She shooed away the congregation om favor of her newfound animal friend. Love patted and stroked the moo cow colored tabby cat as he continued to lick her wounds. She rose to her feet and scruffed the cat up with her, bringing her eye to eye with him. After a four second stare down, the cat jumped down and darted away from her and back to where he ascended from, behind a blue dumpster in between an abandoned mom and pop store and a thriving Italian business. She couldn’t help but think that she had made a new friend today. Somebody to play cat and mouse with. Her mind filled with thoughts of tomorrow, exclusive to this fresh set of circumstances. Gone were with the thoughts of the laptop, work, disappointing her boss. None of that mattered in the moment. The only thing that mattered was to meet up once again she believed was now confirmed to be an entity. She knew it to be true, and she would stop at nothing to prove it. She had something to prove with nobody to believe her. It wasn’t for the first time she had been here, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Thoughts of tomorrow consumed her like a solar eclipse. Visions of cashing out with cat food at local Dollar General dominated her thoughts. She checked her banking app to ensure she could afford it. As well as a new work laptop.

The Garage Sale

  “There’s one, to the left! Pull over!”

The middle aged couple were out adventuring, doing all they could to keep their

relationship as exciting as the first few months. They were successful. Every week they’d come up

with some kind of excursion, whether it be a matinee movie, a trip to a thrift shop or garage sale

hunting, like today. Neither of them expected to end up on Antique Roadshow or anything of 

the sort, it was more about the time spent together. The situations you’d otherwise not see them 

involved in. 

As they put the beige SUV in park and swung the doors open, the sun reflected off of his 

clean shaven bald head. Jackson was bald by choice, it just fit the shape of his head better.  Missy

was the complete opposite, but for all of their differences, they felt like it made them work. Her long,

flowing brunette beauty hung to the edges of her shoulders ever so perfectly, as if she was a 

Renaissance painting come to life. Personalty wise may have been the key. He, a ‘no worry, I got this 

and you’ kind of guy, juxtaposed to her anxiety ridden day to days. He calmed her storm, and she both

loved and appreciated him for it. Each door slammed shut simultaneously as they converged in front

of the vehicle to approach the garage sale.

They both engaged in small talk as they stepped ever closer to the tables spread out

among the lawn, unable to determine what was being offered within the garage. A beautiful day,

one they were not so accustomed to as of late. They were beginning to wonder whether there would

actually be a summer. Nevertheless, they finally arrived at the first table. Hardly any other patrons

were alongside them. Not counting themselves, there was a single mother with a child in a carriage 

and an elderly men just looking. 

Spread out on the black draped table were kick-knacks, trading cards, figurines. The usual.

“Not much here,” she remarked to Jackson. He let out a grunt, affirming her observation but

only for a moment. 

“We haven’t checked the garage,” he said.

“Well yeah, but you’d assume you’d put out your best at first glance. First impressions 

and all.” 

Internally he agreed, logically it did make sense but he lead the way into the garage anyways. 

She followed shortly behind. As he made his way in he greeted the woman sitting in a lawn chair that

didn’t have a price tag on it. Maybe she fancied it. He fingered his way through a rack of clothes that

were clearly for sale but nothing caught his eye, nor hers.  

“Hey, do you mind if we ask you something? Just to satisfy my own curiosity, but why are

you selling everything off?” She stood to her feet and approached the couple. Wearing a light yellow 

moo-moo, she couldn’t come off less threatening if she tried. 

“If you want the bullshit answer that I give everybody else it’s just because it’s been an 

eye sore for a very long time. Which is partially true, but I can tell you two are actually in love. Look 

like people who would appreciate the honesty so the real answer is that my husband past away. I think

it’s a part of moving on.”

The tale hit home for both, but prompted a response from Jackson. “That’s a very sad story

but I think hanging on to things is more essential than ridding yourself of them.”

She pondered his response and then asked why he felt that way.

“Well, because I live it myself. Maybe not this extreme, which once again I am incredibly

sorry for your loss,” before he continued, his wife touched his shoulder. He continued, “if you don’t

have mementos, something to hang on to, you’re always going to forget. Not everything, you won’t

forget them as whole, how they made you feel, but some things… are just moments. And need to be 

held on to.”

She returned back to her chair and sat silently for a moment before finally speaking after thirty 

seconds or so.

“Sale is over. Enjoy your life together. Hang on to the memories and the things you get from 

them. In all my years, nobody had ever broken it down in such simple yet important terms. You have a 

gift. And you, my darling, an even luckier woman. Please do me a favor and take the sign out out of 

the yard when you leave.”

They did as they were told, fully understanding that one conversation changed the lives of all 

involved. 

The Cabin Part 3

 The snap of the fingers didn’t have the safe effect as Gray Beard’s, leaving him with

a serious sense of bewilderment. The elder man smirked and smiled to himself, knowing that

he wasn’t quite there yet, but appreciated the enthusiasm. After all, he was just a kid in this realm.

Daniel returned back to his stool in the corner, just as he was before the church transformation. Joey

wondered where the others were aware of the change of venue. He assumed they had not. Well, 

aside from Gray Beard and maybe Gertrude. Daniel looked as perplexed as before. It was becoming

for more clear that he was a chosen one, for lack of a better term, to the landscape shifts.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, kiddo.”

The way he addressed Joey made Daniels perk up, recalling all of the times he used that 

nickname for him over the years. He attempted to rise up from the chair and make a stink about

it, but was thrown towards the wall in front of the bar stool he sat in moments ago. Nothing could

describe it besides an energy force, blasted forward by a mere wave of his right hand. The action 

induced a fit of rage from Joey, prompting him to charge Gray Beard and into the fall left wall of the

cabin, opposite of Gertrude. Regardless, she stayed exactly where she was sat, cat in her lap.

“Don’t you ever in your life! Touch him again!” Joey had never been more serious in his 

short life. He gripped his disheveled robe and shoved him against wall, resulting Gertrude to spring

into action much more quickly than a woman of her age would be physically able to. This made 

brothers to look at each in disbelief. Gray’s reaction was very similar as he had never been physically

attacked in his 300 year existence. Gertrude giggled knowing one day this would come to pass. The

cat began to put more loudly. 

“Never thought it had in you. So you have two options here, Joseph. I can either explained

everything to you. The choice is yours.”

“First of all, my name is NOT Joseph! Futhermore!” just as he could continue further, Dan 

stepped in.

“Joey! You need to listen to him. You know how you trust me? For about the next minute and a half, I need you to listen to him.”

Begrudgingly. Joey, as always, followed his lead.” 

“I apologize, Mr. Gray Beard, man.” In normal circumstances, the ancient man would have 

shared it with him, best he took it a slight. “Apologize accepted. Now, choose please.” Joey looked

to his sibling for guidance, but all he got in return.

“Well Gandfalf, my brother always tells me I should show and not prove. So my choice 

is to be shown rather told.” “Very well then!: shouted Gray Beard, “follow me!” Another snap of the 

fingers brought them to ancient ruins. Like something you find waking up at 4AM on Youtube 

started still rolling. Gray Beard escorted everybody including Gertrude into a hidden room within

the cavern. They all entered one by one, besides Gertrude who was several steps behind. The trek

to the destination was lined with druids holding four feet burning thick logs, all dressed in black

garb. Eventually reaching the entrance, Gray Beard gave the green light for him to open the door.

As the door creeped open, what was inside started him, causing him to take a speck

and eventually bumping into Gray Beard. Apologizing and eventually forgiven, the two now 

walked in lock stop to the center of the room. Within it was giant crytal orb, more close to the

shape of a ball but the size of a marble, Joey lead the way towards it, but this time he progress

was not stunted by any adult in the room. It was only when he reached for it to get a closer

look that he told to stop, 

“That orb is more powerful than you can grasp, Joseph. It’s abilities can change the fabric

of time and spice, and you know are now ready to learn about it.”

“I’m not even ten years old, and my name is not Joseph. It’s Joey!”

With a chuckle, Grey Beard agreed and followed up with, “you’re wise beyond your years. 

Which was way you chosen long before you were born. You have a greater purpose. So I ask this

one time, “ the ask proposition rubbed Joey the wrong way.  

“Isn’t this whole thing about no questions. Do you want to choose for me?”

“The rules have changed, but I’ll elaborate.” 

All of a sudden, the pinata he was dragging around earlier approved on the very same table 

the fruit was being cut apart on it earlier. “You have a choice in all things in life, but this may be the

most part of your life. Choose between the two, The durian or the pinata.”

“Do I get to know what means what?”

“You do not. If you are the one, you’ll make the right move.”

Joey contemplated a moment and reached for the pinata. As soon as he touched it, he was

flooded with past memories, bad ones. Ranging from ruined birthday parties, including todays and y

years past.  He then grasped the fruit and caught flashes of paradise, a life he had always dreamed of.

Luxury, never needed a dollar lent to him ever again. Beautiful women he’d only seen in his 

dreams,private jets and a life he could only describe as heaven. Instinctively, he grabbed the fruit.

“There’s only one final step, Joseph. 

Snap your fingers.

He once again did as he was told, but this time the room did not shift. The cabin remaining in 

tact, the fireplace still burning. As he panned the room he realized the major differences. There was 

no Gray Beard. There was no rocking chair, there was no cat, there was no Gertrude. As he scanned 

the room, the only thing remaining was a hand written note from Gray Beard that simply read.

“Thank you for freeing our souls, it is now your responsibility. I apologize for going about it this 

way,  and I’m sorry it was you, but we know it’s in good hands. 

Best regards, Daniel”

The Cabin Part 2

Dan and Joey looked at each other, Joey more confused than his older relative. Joey 

attempted to step toward the old man, but Gray Beard told him to step back immediately. He did as 

he was told, watching as he cut the thick hide of the fruit, releasing a pungent odor into the air ahead 

of them.

“Dude. Can you not?”

Gray Beard cut a slight smile and turned his head to face his wife, Gertrude.

“They obviously didn’t listen to the whole no questions thing.”

She rocked at the pace of a metronome, in perfect symmetry with the fireplace and crackling

wood beside her. The mere mention of the ‘no questions policy’ clearly dismayed Joey, as he said 

under his breath that he thought this shit was over with. They came here for answers and he was 

hell bent on getting them. 

“It’s not can’t I, Daniel. It is that I must. I have waited nine long year to peel this fruit, and 

by the magic of this place, it has stayed just as ripe as the day I plucked it from the tree. You see,

Joey, all of this is for you. Everything here was erected in your name, constructed with the vision 

of the day you would come.”

Joey was about to speak but was cut off abruptly by Gray Beard.

“Yes, young one. We all seen this day very vividly before you actually lived it. This day had been

promised to us on the day you were born on your plane of existence. You are no longer there, if you

can not see that, and you never shall return. This is your home now,” he explained as he continued to 

cut into the fruit, releasing even more zesty aromas into the air. “This fruit here is called a durian and 

it is incredibly important to not only your existence but your survival as well. This all seems overly…

complicated but once I bless you with the knowledge and the ability to do things like this.”

He snapped his fingers and changed the inside of the cabin to what was now inside of the top

floor of a luxury hotel. Gone was the hard wood floors and walls, replaced by colorful carpet, paintings

and maître d's rushing back and forth with assorted meals and drinks on various carts. 

Another snap of the fingers shifted it back to the cabin where they had first entered. 

Everything as it was. Gertrude with the cat, Gray Beard standing behind the marble table and the 

shelled fruit, except the aroma had dissipated and the durian not yet sliced open. Dan wiped sweat

beads from his brow and wondered if it was more due to the space/time travel or the answers he was 

giving.

“Well you said you wanted some answers, right kid? You may now step forward, I permit you 

to do so.”

Joey did as he was told and walked towards the table, the only thing separating him from

all of the knowledge he craved. His older brother was pacing back and forth because he was unsure

whether he was ready for this responsibility. He knew the plan and he knew to follow it, but it just

didn’t feel right. Against his better judgment, he allowed him to represent himself. 

“Here, come to my side of the table,” he instructed, as the young one once again did as he was 

told. Approaching his side, Gray Beard reached below the table and pulled out an ancient looking 

knife, the blade formed by sharpened rock and the handle made of wood. Placing it in his hand, he 

locked his grip in with his own, guiding him to cut the thick hide of the produce. Peeling through the 

skin, the old man released his grip, allowing Joey to dice it up as his own discretion. He then walked

over to have a discussion with Daniel. Raising his arm from his side and onto Dan’s shoulder, he 

leveled with him.

“You not only knew this day was coming, but you’ve seen it unfold a thousand times. You

need not worry. This is how it was written.”

“Yeah well, it’s a little different when you’re living that day. You’re asking me to give

over my baby brother on nothing more than blind faith. So yes, I’m a little on edge about it all.”

“We would not lie to you nor mislead you. We have always treated you with the same respect

as you show him.”

Daniel nodded his head, knowing every word he just said was true. He turned his back to Gray

Beard and stepped towards a stool in the far right corner of the room, chin resting in his hands as he

watched it all unfold.  The nine year old cut through the fruit, dicing it into bite sized pieces and into a 

ceramic bowl to the right of him. “Very good, now put the knife down and step towards the altar.

Confused for a second, he put down the knife as told and heard a snap of the fingers which

changed their location yet again. What was once a cabin was now a church, darkened by the night,

lights off and only lit up by red candles bouncing off of the black walls surrounding them. Hanging 

from the walls and painted on the ceiling were memories of each nine birthdays, the good ones

and the bad. Highlighted by scenes of laughter and tears, gifts and punishments alike, not a 

memory wasted. A shrine to his life at this point. 

Gertrude and Daniel were now sitting in pews at the church, except now they both had cats

to keep them company. Gray Beard stood at the top of the altar, summoning Joey to meet him there.

He walked toward him, looking at the ceramic bowl that was now in possession of the old man. As he 

approached, he dug out a piece of fruit and knelt down to eye level with him, just as Dan did earlier. 

He scooped out a piece and fed it to him like it was communion. As he bit into the juicy fruit, some of 

it drizzled down his lips and onto the now matte black robe that draped him.

He swallowed it down and felt something overtake him. Something dark, sinister even. Joey 

turned to Gray Beard with a serious look and snapped his fingers.