Little Fuchsia Riding Hood

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a village near the forest.

Every time this little girl, Sally, went out she wore a fuchsia riding cloak, and thus everyone in the village called her Little Fuchsia Riding Hood.

One morning, Sally asked her mother if she could go to visit her grandmother as it had been awhile since they'd seen each other.

"That's a good idea," her mother said.  So they packed a nice basket for Sally to take to her grandmother.

When the basket was ready, the little girl put on her fuchsia cloak and kissed her mother goodbye. 

"Remember, go straight to Grandma's house," her mother cautioned.  "Don't dawdle along the way and please don't talk to strangers!  The woods are dangerous."

"Don't worry, mommy," said Sally, "I'll be careful."

But when Little Fuchsia Riding Hood noticed some lovely flowers in the woods, she forgot her promise to her mother.  She picked a few, watched the butterflies flit about for awhile, listened to the frogs croaking and then picked a few more. 

Little Fuchsia Riding Hood was enjoying the warm summer day so much, that she didn't notice a dark shadow approaching out of the forest behind her...

Suddenly, a wolf appeared beside her.

"What are you doing out here, little girl?" the wolf asked in a voice as friendly as he could muster.

"I'm on my way to see my Grandma who lives through the forest, near the brook,"  Little Fuchsia Riding Hood replied. Then she realized how late she was and quickly excused herself, rushing down the path to her Grandma's house. 

The wolf, in the meantime, took a shortcut...

The wolf, a little out of breath from running, arrived at Grandma's and knocked lightly at the door. 

"Oh thank goodness dear!  Come in, come in!  I was worried sick that something had happened to you in the forest," said Grandma thinking that the knock was her granddaughter. The wolf let himself in.  Poor Granny did not have time to say another word, before the wolf gobbled her up!

The wolf let out a satisfied burp, and then poked through Granny's wardrobe to find a nightgown that he liked.  He added a frilly sleeping cap, and for good measure, dabbed some of Granny's perfume behind his pointy ears.

A few minutes later, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood knocked on the door.  The wolf jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his nose.  

"Who is it?" he called in a cackling voice.

"It's me!" Little Fuchsia Riding Hood called.

"Oh how lovely!  Do come in, my dear," croaked the wolf.  

When Little Fuchsia Riding Hood entered the little cottage, she could scarcely recognize her Grandmother.

"Grandmother!  Your voice sounds so odd.  Is something the matter?" she asked.

"Oh, I just have touch of a cold," squeaked the wolf adding a cough at the end to prove the point.

"But Grandmother!  What big ears you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood as she edged closer to the bed.

"The better to hear you with, my dear," replied the wolf.

"But Grandmother!  What big eyes you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood.

"The better to see you with, my dear," replied the wolf.

"But Grandmother!  What big teeth you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood her voice quivering slightly.

"The better to eat with, my dear," replied the wolf.

Still uncertain, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood dropped her basket cried,

"Oh, Grandmother! Why haven't you called me by my name!?"

"Because your Grandmother is NO MORE!" the wolf snarled, leaping out of the bed.

Almost too late, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood realized that the person in the bed was not her Grandmother, but a hungry wolf.

She ran across the room and through the door, shouting, "Help!  Wolf!" as loudly as she could. Yet, in such a remote area of the forest, there was nobody around who could hear her. She hid quickly, and then hoping to evade the wolf, she ran back into the house when the wolf gave chase. When she entered, she fled to hide on the other side of the bed. But as she turned the corner, she saw on the ground a sight most gruesome. There were the remains of her Grandmother, lifeless and devoured, then tossed aside to make room for the wolf.

"Oh Grandma!"  sobbed Little Fuchsia Riding Hood, "Why? Why did you have to be eaten by a wolf?"

The wolf, hearing the sobs of the girl in the house, returned, bearing down upon her with his fangs dripping with slobber and blood.

"Now, now, my dear" the wolf said, ridiculing her with an imitation of her grandmother's voice, "no need to cry."

"You MONSTER!" Sally exclaimed, "First you eat my Grandmother, and now you plan to eat me? You don't even know who I am!"

"Then tell me quickly, and your pain shall end!"

"I'm Sally, and I swear that I will do everything I can to make you miserable!"

The wolf, undaunted, lunged. His fangs sank deep into the flesh at her throat, and with a surprised gasp, Sally let out a whine before the wolf devoured her too.

The following day, when Sally had not returned, her mother travelled to the Grandmother's house. When she arrived, there she saw a bloodied and torn fuchsia cloak and a gown covered in hair next to a pile of bones which had been picked clean.

Realization of what had happened swept over the mother, and she let out a howl of grief. In one day, she had lost her precious daughter and her beloved mother.

Unable to stay strong in the face of such agony, she fled to the brook, and drowned herself.

In the coming days and weeks, the villagers realized that the house famed for its beautiful Little Fuchsia Hood was empty. Though they waited, neither Sally or her mother returned. Eventually, the house was cleared out, and new villagers arrived to replace Sally and her mother.

Not too long from then, everyone forgot about the girl in the Little Fuchsia Hood.

Legends told, however, of a strange wolf seen only rarely in the forest. The tale often went that if one paid attention, they might catch a glimpse of a rare sight: that of a wolf in a gown, pleasantly plump, and more savage and cunning than all.

Maria of Calentro

"Oh, Maria! It's perfect!" Sally said, tears filling her eyes. As she put the charm bracelet on her wrist, Sally couldn't help but wonder how Maria knew exactly what would make her day.

"Well, Sally, I'm so glad that you like it. I had to think for quite some time about what to get you! After all, it's a big day. Ooooo, yes. We should really party hard today." Maria responded.

"Ha! Old girl, you're crazy! You know nobody as old as you can go partying all night long! We're not in our twenties!" Sally responded, making light of the fact that she was turning 80.

"You're only as old as you feel, they say! And besides, you have a good 2 years on me! I'm still a spring chicken!" Maria laughed.

After a moment of laughter, Maria calmed down and asked Sally the question that had been on her mind.

"So, Sal, how has Ben held up lately? Last I heard, he wasn't doing so good."

"Oh, Em, it's become such a hard thing for him to just get up out of bed these days. Just last week, he had to miss out on that little get-together I had planned with the grandkids because he was just in too much pain to move."

"I see. Well, you know what they say, life gets the best of us all, someday. Let him know that I've been thinking about him. I really do hope everything works out for you both."

"Oh, I know, Em. I know. But how have you been? After all this time, still living up the good life with all those wild parties?"

"Well, Sal, you know how tough it is for a girl to find someone who'll look past these old bones nowdays. It has been tough. But you know, I'm getting along alright. I may not have any grandkids of my own, but my brother has been kind enough to share his daughter and her kids. Oh, and they're growing up so fast."

The doorbell rang, and Maria made her way to it. She wasn't expecting any visitors other than Sally, so the whole situation caught her by surprise. As she opened the door, she was met with an even greater surprise. Standing in front of her, holding a bouquet of flowers was a young man.

"Well, hello there, young man. Is there something I can help you with?" Maria asked.

"Actually, ma'am, there is. You see, I... I have something to tell you. Something I just had to say." He began.

"Oh, well, do get on with it then, dear!" Maria smiled. To her surprise, he burst into song.

"Oh, milady! How I wish to know you more! Seeing you daily, as you walk along the shore! My heart, it skips a beat and now I'm sure, that you are the one that I adore! I want to spend my days with you, and hear what you've gone through. I want to hold onto your hand, and forever be your man! I want to serenade you daily, because you make me want to sing. I want to hold your hand and know your mine... I want to give you  a ring. So be forever mine, and I'll give you everything."

Maria was stunned. A young man like this, singing such sentiments to her? He didn't look like he was even in his 30s yet. Sally, who was still sitting at the card table in the living room, started clapping.

"You go girl! Look at you! Seems you have yourself an admirer!" Sally whooped from across the room.

"Well, young man... what is your name?" Maria asked.

"Oh, me? I'm Dylan. And it's a pleasure to meet you..."

"Well, Dylan, while I appreciate the sentiment..."

"Oh, and these are for you!" Dylan said, quickly handing the bouquet to Maria.

"Now, just hold on there for a moment! How can a young man like you be professing your love for an old lady like myself?" Maria inquired.

"What? Oh! Oh, no. No, uh, I think you have the wrong idea. Actually, I'm just a singing telegram and flower delivery guy. Yeah, uh, see the card in the flowers? Yeah, that's who this is from."

Maria blushed, and felt quite embarrassed. How could she have made that mistake? No, of course, that explanation made much more sense.

"Oh, yes, I mean... of course you are, dear. Thank you, Dylan."

"Yes, well, have a nice day, ma'am. And... you know, I think you're lucky to have someone who is so interested in you. But that's just my opinion." Dylan said, as he took his leave.

Sally was now laughing quite heartily.

"Oh! Oh! The look on your face! When he said he was just a delivery boy!"

"Oh, shut it, Sal. You know that was an honest mistake!"

"I think you've been alone for a bit too long, Em! Perhaps you should think about going out with the man who sent those flowers to you! Instead of trying to rob the cradle with boys like *Dylan*!" Sally said, making sure that Dylan's name was said as lovey-dovey as she could say it before she burst into another wave of laughter.

"Alright, enough laughing at my expense. Who sent these flowers anyways?" Maria asked, taking a look at the card in the bouquet. It read:

You may have never seen me, but I have seen you. I am certain that you are the one. Every day, I watch as you leave your house, and take a stroll along the beach. I have long wanted to say something, but been too afraid of the possibility that you may say no. But at long last I have worked up the nerve to profess my feelings... even if it is in the hands of a person too young to truly understand. I hope that tomorrow, you will meet me at the shore, and that we shall find love, together. Sincerely, Ruben.

"Ruben? My, my! Sounds like you may have struck gold, Em!" Sally said with a smile on her face.

"Well, I don't know. I don't recall seeing anybody during my morning walks. But my eyes aren't what they used to be, so maybe he was there and I just didn't see him." Maria replied, feeling a bit confused.

"Well, I'm happy to hear that you may be getting that birthday wish you had."

"Which one is that now?"

"Why, the one that you had every year since you were 30! To finally find a man to settle down with!"

After they partied for a little while, indoors and with a game of dominos and a glass of wine each, Sally went back to her place to check on Ben. As Maria said her goodbyes, she was wished good luck on the "date". Naturally, Maria couldn't help but chuckle. Sally always did have a good sense of humor about things.

The following day, Maria prepared herself to meet the mystery man who had sent her some very nice flowers accompanied by Dylan and that song. While she was getting ready, she suddenly realized that she hadn't found out if that was a song Dylan had wrote, or something by her mystery man.

Thinking about it, she was certain the man must have wrote it. Otherwise, it probably wouldn't have specifically mentioned seeing her on the beach everyday, right?

Arriving on the beach, Maria was approached by a quite handsome and distinguished looking gentleman.
Before she even had a chance to say anything, Ruben was already on one knee. He opened the ring case, and proposed.

The whole thing happened so fast Maria couldn't process everything at once.
She had slapped him for proposing so soon, but then after they spent time together for a few months, it was just absolutely clear that it was meant to be. And so, when he proposed again, Maria eagerly accepted his proposal.

The first year just flew by, and before she knew it, it was the one year anniversary of her marriage with Ruben. But this day was something special. Special, and also, very, very wrong.

"Ruben. Ruben, wake up dear. Ruben! Oh... oh no! Ruben, come on! Don't do this to me! Ruben! Wake up! Oh, God. ... Hello? Yes, my husband... he's not responding, he feels a bit cold to the touch and he's not breathing! Yes, I know CPR. Please hurry! It's 1524 Crestcove! Please, you have to help me!"

A week later, Sally held Maria in an embrace, trying to comfort her... but the tears wouldn't stop, and the warmth of Sally's cloak did little to warm Maria's heart.

"It's too soon. It's not fair." Maria sobbed, as the service, now over, began to disperse, and the coffin was lowered into the grave.

"I know, Em. I know. After all that time, and then this. But you still have me, just like before."

"It's just not the same! I can't take it anymore!" Maria yelled, her words coming out of her mouth like a frenzied cry. "Why now? Why him?"

"We can't know the answer to those things, Em." Sally said, and though she wanted to say something more to comfort her hurting friend, she was at a loss for words. What, if anything, could she say to heal the hurt that Maria was feeling? So, for lack of anything to say, Sally simply stayed by her side, and did what she could to catch the tears that fell from her friend's face as they overflowed from her broken heart.

It wasn't long after that, Maria also passed on. Many thought that age had simply gotten to her,
but Sally, and a few others close to Maria, knew that she had just lost the will to live. She had died of a broken heart.

Sally was in charge of writing the obituary for her friend. It was the most painful thing she had ever had to do for Maria. So, because of her deep affection for her life-long friend, she wrote the story.

Maria of Calentro, 80, went on to be with her beloved Ruben on August 6th. She is survived by her brother, James, her niece Francis, Francis' children and beloved grandnephews Justin and Bobby, and many other friends and loved ones. She always had a zeal for life, even as she neared the end of it, but nothing brought her more joy than when she met Ruben. Their whirlwind romance ended abruptly a year after their marriage began. Truly, Maria was anxious to see him again. Although she will be sorely missed, the memories of all the time spent with her will surely live on in our hearts. Her favorite quote was "keep looking up, because that's where it all is". She would want to remind all her loved ones that even though times may seem bleak, by looking up, and moving forward, they honor her memory.

The state of affairs

So, I realize that I have been relatively silent about my life recently.

So, here is a quick update about what is happening:


Life is never easy, but trying to balance the most upper level classes required for graduation with all the other obligations I have in my life has been madness. I am glad it's only undergrad classes.

I'm working two jobs, only one of which actually pays me right now.

I am still single, too. This is a highly confusing and frustrating phenomenon to me.
I am often told that my physical appearance has no bearing on it, but I find that difficult to believe at best.

On the other hand, I have recently been fortunate enough to forge a new friendship which has already greatly assisted me in being able to cope with, what I feel has been, a rather mediocre hand dealt to me by life.

As usual, the relationship I have with my step-father is tenuous at best. The fact is, he has repeatedly and maliciously hurt me (emotionally) in the past. While I am quick to forgive (and I have forgiven him), I also do not respect him, and I only trust him to a very limited extent.

He lost my trust when, as a parent, he shirked his responsibilities multiple times and then attempted to place the blame on me.

He lost my respect when, in addition to the above, he has treated me with an occasionally subtle disdain, and passive-aggressive attitude that clearly indicates that he cares more about being "right" than he cares about me.

Since he has not earned any more trust or respect, any interactions between us have been (on my end) a grinding, painful, unpleasant experience.

In other areas, I am quite upset. I can't seem to find a good balance of my time expenditure.
I have heard little from my closest friend, and it has been a turbulent time of late.

Were I asked to choose a word (a single word) to effectively communicate the feelings I have been experiencing lately, it would be impatience.

I am losing patience in many areas. I am having a harder time holding my tongue against my pet peeves. I am becoming increasingly irate at the level of stress that I have been cornered into. Most of all, I am tired of both directly and indirectly being told that I am not worthy of having a romantic interest/life.

What is just so wrong with me that I am not good enough for that?
Why am I left sitting on the sidelines?

Life is hard. Everyone knows it. It's already hard enough for the average person... and I am left here with such a heavy additional burden. It just doesn't feel fair. I'd be angry, if I weren't so sad that I wish I could just abandon it all. Wish that someone would look at me and really SEE ME for once. Wish that the days could pass just a little faster so that this suffering would end sooner.

Ok, so it gets better, they say. But they often fail to mention how every STUPID DAY until then is a complete nightmare, and total disaster. But this is *my* burden, so I really shouldn't complain about it. So, somewhere inside me, it gets bottled up. Locked away so deep inside me that even I cannot reach it most of the time. And why? Not because it doesn't bother me. Not because I don't realize what a joke I seem to be to the world, the people around me, whatever. Not even because I am gradually thinking things are getting better, or because I remind myself that chances are that things won't always be this bad. No, the reason I do it is because I am expected to be okay. I am required (as if part of some sick cosmic joke) to keep going on.

So, that's life. I'm dealing with it because it has been foisted upon me like an unwanted present being regifted.

Pokémon- the infernal glitch (Part 4)

As Yellow left the Pokémon center, his C-gear rang.

"Hello, this is Yellow."

"Hello, son! As you know, I've been holding onto your money for you while you were gone..."

"What? Again, mother? I thought I told you to deposit it in the bank!"

"Anyway, I just thought I would let you know, I went on a shopping spree, but I kinda did it with your money..."

"Aww, man! Not AGAIN!"

"But while I was at the store, I saw eight raffle booths..."

"Wait, you went all the way to Join Avenue just to shop!?" Yellow said, astonished by the expense of such a trip.

"And I won a prize! Well, actually, I won more than one prize. But I thought I'd let you have one."

"Mom! You know I can't afford to have you jaunting off to wherever you want to go shopping..."

"So, I've sent it to you. There should be a courier arriving there soon with your Master Ball."

"Wait. What? They were giving away Master Balls?"

"I love you son, remember to play nice!"

"Wait, mom! Promise me you're not going to just" Yellow started, but his mother had already disconnected.

A very fat man riding a very small bike suddenly turned a corner, and came to a stop in front of Yellow. He was soaked in sweat, and wearing a yellow shirt... that was obviously meant to be white (but wasn't anymore).

"Excuse me, sir? Are you Yellow?" The man asked, in a voice that was tiny and squeaky. It was the saddest sight Yellow had ever seen.

"Uh... yeah, that's me." Yellow replied, feeling really awkward about the whole interaction, and desperately wanting to run away at full speed.

"This package is for you, then." The man said as he rummaged around the inside of his pants in the back. The mental imagery Yellow conjured at that time nearly made him want to reject the package on principle alone. The courier then produced a fanny pack in the most garish of pink, green, and yellow, from which he then produced a nicely wrapped white box with a dark blue ribbon.

"Thanks, now get lost." Yellow said, accepting the package. The courier frowned, but nodded his head as if he had been told the same thing by everybody he had ever delivered to before. Then, with the silent dignity of a circus clown, he pedaled his tiny bike away.

Yellow would have laughed at the strangeness of the sight he has just beheld if it weren't so incredibly eerie and sad.

"It's funny because it's sad. And... it's sad because it's true." Yellow cringed, "I swear, mom, sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours."

Opening the box, Yellow found a well-polished Master Ball, and a note which read:

"Elite Four Training! Have all the badges you need to face the Elite Four, but uncertain that you can make it? Worried that Victory Road is too dark for you to train inside? Then come to our training center! Many top-tier trainers with badges from ALL REGIONS! Test your mettle, and train to your heart's content!"

On the back of the note was a map. This "training center" was pretty far from Yellow's location. Knowing that there was only one option, Yellow went to a nearby tree and threw a Nest Ball at a sleeping Pidgey. It looked newborn, but was asleep. It was an easy capture, and as the last wiggle settled the ball, it fell from the tree, allowing Yellow to retrieve it easily.

Throwing the ball, Yellow immediately called upon Pidgey.

"Wake up, you lazy bird!" He said loudly, scaring the Pidgey rather thoroughly. "It's time to learn how to fly!" Yellow pulled out the FLY HM, and attempted to shove the CD down the baby Pidgey's throat. It looked uncomfortable. Then, Yellow remembered he had to use it to hypnotize the Pidgey into knowing it... so he tried that instead. It worked! The Pidgey suddenly knew how to lift off the ground and fly around.

"TO NARNIA!" Yellow yelled, as he callously jumped upon the back of the Pidgey, and insisted that it fly him and all his equipment several hundred miles by itself to the destination city he had chosen.

Arriving a few minutes later, Pidgey died. Yellow didn't care. To him, Pidgeys were "one-shot Pokémon" anyway. It had served its purpose. It flew. Yellow kicked in the door and announced his arrival at the Elite Four Training center.

His initial reaction was one of confusion. Sitting in front of him were about 20 people all drinking tea and playing Mahjong. His second reaction was one of embarassment, realizing that he had kicked in the door to the retirement home that was on the first floor. Apparently the battle area was upstairs.

Yellow thought about the situation, and came to a clear plan. He waited for the next person to come down the stairs outside from their training. He was curious why it was taking so long, but as the sun began to set, a young boy came out the door and rushed down the stairs. Yellow tripped him as he passed. Then he helped the boy up, stealing all the badges he had in the process.

"Problem solved!" Yellow claimed. He laughed to himself about how he hadn't thought of it earlier. The easiest way to get the badges back was to just take them from other trainers. The young boy didn't even notice his badges were gone. He just left in a hurry.

Things were looking easier and easier for Yellow. Sure, it was a bit rude, but he wasn't concerned. After all, this was all that Blue's fault. He had done something, and Yellow was determined to make Blue pay for cheating!

The wretch

Timothy was not a man of wealth, but he was a man of conscience.
He knew the difference between what was right and what was wrong.

Most of the time, life had dealt Timothy an average hand. He won some,
and he lost some, but he always had enough.

Now, it so happened that one day, Timothy needed to travel for business reasons.
As was his usual fate, life had dealt him a meager but modest hand in this too.
His boss, sending him to pick up the new equipment, had arranged for a coach
to take him out to the countryside (about half the distance). He would then
have to take a ferry (also paid round trip) to obtain what the business needed.

Timothy didn't really know the details about what he was supposed to retrieve, but
he knew enough to know it was a fairly large bit of machinery. He was going to have
an escort back, though, so he wasn't terribly concerned.

Packing with him a handful of homemade biscuits, a summer sausage, and a wedge of
hard cheese, he prepared for his trip. Timothy figured he wouldn't need to worry about
much in the way of provisions. He was sure that by being an honest and upright person,
he would have no difficulty making such a simple trip.

The coach arrived in the small town with Timothy, and came to a stop.
"Have yerself a safe trip, mate." The middle-aged gentleman stated with a tip
of his hat as he departed. Timothy gave a brief smile and wave.

The first half of the journey had been harmless. A nice coach, not decadent,
but certainly not some bargain box-on-wheels. The ride had been so quick, it was
still morning when Timothy arrived. Deciding he could still make it to the port if he
were to hurry, Timothy ate his lunch while making the walk to the shore.

"NO! Please! Why me? I have caused you no harm!" came a frightened yell from over
a hill. As the sound reached Timothy's ears, he felt propelled into action to save the
innocent man from whatever was assailing him.

Upon reaching the apex of the hill, he saw two gentlemen using their canes to beat a
poor fellow who lay at their feet. Timothy, rushing to the defense of the bystander
brashly pulled them away.

"You, sirs, are quite the terrible bunch! How dare you attack an innocent man!"

The men, regaining their posture, scowled at the insolence of this traveler. At once,
Timothy began to second guess his decision to stop them. One man was dressed in
fine linens, and wore an opulent cross around his neck. The attire suggested that he
was a man of high standing in the church, and Timothy wondered if perhaps the
man who lay silently on the ground were truly innocent.

The feeling of being in the wrong sank in even more deeply when he realized that
the other man was none other than one of the patrols whose duties included that of
guarding the roads from suspect individuals who sought to be unscrupulous.

"I say, there, chap! What are you doing? Have you never heard of minding your
own business? What has you out here at this time of day, interfering in matters that
are not your own?" The patrol asked.

Timothy confessed that he was simply traveling to the port where he was to do his
assignment.

"Ah, yes. I was told that there would be a man in need of an escort sometime
tomorrow or the day after. I will not be that escort, but I did let my comrade know
that on his duty as a patrol, he was to guard the man and the cargo with his life.
Seeing you now, however, I wonder if perhaps you would merely endanger him!" The
patrolman responded. With a large huff, the patrolman walked off with the minister
following closely.

"Thank you, so greatly, you good, good sir. I owe you a debt of great gratitude.
Surely you have saved my life this very day." The wretch at Timothy's feet cried,
tears streaming down his dirty, bloodied face.

Timothy swiftly turned upon the man.

"What terrible business did you have that caused them to attack you so?" he asked
audaciously.

At these words, the wretch on the ground looked as if he had been visibly stricken.
His face glowed red, and the tears streaming from his eyes began to flow even more.

"If you must know, sir, I did indeed have business with them. I swear it upon the grave
of my late grandmother, that the business I did have was not of ill intent. For many
years, I have been alone. An outcast from my village since the time of my
grandmother's passing. For you see, I have little strength, and so it is difficult for me
to move on my own power, sir. So I have wandered the countryside, attempting to
make even one friendship that would last. But I failed, and I fear that this has been the
last time I shall ever have a chance to do so. Even the holy man of the church, whom
I approached has cast me down as evil. I had heard that the friendless would find
friends, and that the hopeless would find hope because of the one in which the people
of the church believe... and yet, I find this minister has turned me away." The wretch
gestured to his legs.

"As I approached, the minister yelled for help, saying 'alas, a robber is upon me, please
lend me your aid!' to the patrol. And before I even had the opportunity to ask that I be
helped to a place where I could rest, I was set upon by them both... and now I fear that
my legs have been broken."

Timothy saw that the frail and thin legs of the man were indeed contorted in directions
they should not bend, and were covered in bruises. Feeling a pang of his conscience,
Timothy offered the man some assistance in getting to the port town. The wretch smiled,
but it was clear that the smile was done through great anguish.

Timothy spent the night at an inn after taking the ferry to the other side of the river,
leaving behind the wretch he had met on his way. The following day, he retrieved the
machinery from the warehouse district which had produced it, and began wheeling it
with him back to the ferry. After a moderate ride back, he came across the wretch,
left exactly where he had been the previous day.

Timothy was shocked. Surely someone would have helped this man by now!
But when he casually made his way toward the wretch, he noticed that the man now looked
even more hurt than he had the previous day. Timothy, feeling obligated to do the "right" thing
got a doctor nearby to help the poor man, giving up what little he had, and promising more
later to compensate for the treatment.

Shortly before he met up with the patrol which was to escort him back to a nearby station,
the wretch started speaking to him. The words which came from his mouth were shaped
by sadness, and Timothy could feel the longing contained within them.

"Why did you help me? I don't understand. You should have just let me die.
I am clearly of no worth. No, look, I've even been of great cost to you. I just
cannot comprehend why you would ever care."

"I did what needed to be done. All people have value, and I have my morals."
Timothy replied, but as he did, he remembered how quickly he had turned on the
wretch when he had seen the patrolman and the minister. "Why would you say that
I should have let you die?"

"Is it not obvious?" The wretch said in a voice that quivered with the sound of
sobs being held back for years, "Once you are gone, I will be alone again. I have not
a soul who cares for me. The more merciful thing would have been to kill me.
Then, perhaps, I would not have to endure the suffering of this mortal coil."

Timothy, so saddened by the thought that the life of this man was so poor, could not
bring himself to reply. So, he continued down the path. After a while, Timothy saw
the patrol, who was a kind young man. The patrolman helped Timothy transport the
machinery to the station, where it was loaded upon the car to be shipped via train
the remainder of the way to the business.

Timothy left the wretch behind, having no means to care for this man as well.
But the words of the wretch haunted him, and Timothy eventually found himself
back in that same town. He never discovered what happened to the wretch.
He did see the minister, however, preaching about the wonders of the church
and a "God" that loved every person, no matter where they were from...

Timothy let out a mirthless laugh. He had seen the true face of the friends to the
friendless, and the ones who truly suffered. Timothy was never the same again.
He never again felt short changed, even when the hand life dealt was more meager
than usual... and he continued to wonder what happened to the poor wretch.

The truth about trust

"Now I will tell you what I've done for you. 50,000 tears I've cried..."

-Evanescence (Going Under)

So, trust is a difficult topic for me.
When I think about who I trust, and with what, I realize that I don't really
know what to think most of the time.

Most of the time, I play with trust on the safe side. If I don't know with certainty
that I can trust someone with something, I simply won't do it. It's possible that
not trusting people has, in a way, been a defense I've developed.

As I think about the many times I've trusted people, though, I realize that there
is a good reason why I have difficulty trusting people. There are many people
who are unreliable, and many people who are showing a facade to the ones
around them.

I am one of those people, for that matter. I'm not really unreliable, but I hide
who I am under the mask of obscurity many times. I'm not really 'hiding', I tell
myself. I'm just not revealing all there is to show. But isn't that just like hiding?

The thing is, I've been hurt in the past, and many times I would rather deal with
the pain of hiding stuff about myself than deal with the bothersome problems that
occasionally come from the honesty about revealing details about myself.

It's so stupid, and it's so strange. The people that I have been told my whole life
that I should be able to trust have often been the ones I could trust the least.

Parents? Well, my mom I could trust, but for a while I wasn't sure.
My step-dad... HA! I still can't trust him. I've been hurt too many times.
He isn't worth my trust. He doesn't deserve my trust, and I won't apologize
for that position. He lost it, and every time I gave him the benefit of the doubt,
he wasn't on my side when it mattered most.

Friends? Well, I have a few which I trust implicitly. The problem with friends
was always that I couldn't trust that they would stay around. I don't want to be
negative where it isn't really a big deal, but... let's just say that in my personal
experiences, "best friend" was the best title to give to someone if I wanted them
to leave. Even now, my "best friend" isn't around anymore. And I'll admit right
here that I am very sad, and even a bit angry (somewhere) that he left. As my
friend, though, I would like him to be happy... and he is now. It's the kind of
happiness that I couldn't ever give him. No matter how hard I tried. So I try not
to be angry about it. However, it still leaves me alone when sometimes I need
that physical person that I can hold and be honest with. And maybe even cry
as I talk to them.

Christians? See, as a Christian, I've always been told that honesty was the best
idea. That I should be transparent about my good and my bad. That I should
trust the people around me that also claim to be Christian. The sad thing is,
I've had better experiences with many of my non-Christian friends than with
most of the Christian people I have known. How often have I, in the past,
against my better judgment, spoken candidly to my Christian friends? Many
times, when I have, I've received a mixed bag. Everything from the realization
that they're not really interested in what I'm going through, to them actively
hating who I am. Very few times has it resulted in a pleasant exchange of the
truths about each of us.

So, naturally, I should have expected the reactions I have gotten recently.
When I put my guns down, lowered my defenses, and opened my heart to
some Christians who I felt could be friends, in spite of known differences of
opinion.

Yet, the wind was totally knocked out of me with the suggestion that the
life I live is fundamentally messed up in a way that for these 'friends' is not an
issue. Like love is an addiction that should be viewed with contempt if it
doesn't fit into their mold for how it should look.

I lost sight of myself for a while, but eventually got back. (Honestly, it was
thanks to my best friend, physically absent as he was, and my "protector" by
the name of Zack.)

Zack has asked me, "why do you keep letting them do this to you?"
and I realized that I volunteer myself to to be slapped around like this far more
often than is healthy. I felt really bad for Zack when he said he felt that he
had "failed to protect [me] from the pain that [I] went through". He thought
he should have stepped in... but he was trying to give me a chance. I just
wasn't strong enough.

Honesty may be the best policy, but apparently trust is something that I can't
just pass out to the people around me, even if they are the ones I've been
assured I can trust.

Is it any surprise that my relationships tend to be lightweight?
I can't just trust people with things that could be used to hurt me... but it's the
private and painful things I share with others that helps be grow closer to them.

Part of it is that I don't want to get close to people, because people I get closer
to hurt me. Sometimes right away, sometimes down the line. There are people
I'm only acquainted with, too. These people, I don't want to trust with my life.
Sad news is that sometimes, my acquaintances I don't want to trust are the most
trustworthy of them all. Just, not the type of people I want to spend much time
around.

I would love to simplify my life. But I'm not sure what all would be needed.
Should I keep the people I trust? What if I trust them, but don't want to be
around them anymore? Should I get rid of the people that I can't trust, or those
who bring me down or cause me to feel confused?

I just don't see a place where I can clearly cut ties to the people I know.
Likewise, I'm not sure I want to stay in a relationship with people.

So, the truth about trust is that it's a double-edged sword.
I can't get close to someone without it, and I can't risk using it because
it can cause me more pain than if I don't. I feel trapped, and I know why...
but the explanation is so unsatisfying.

"Here in the darkness, I know myself. Can't break free until I let it go. Let me go! Darling I forgive you after all. Anything is better than to be alone. And in the end, I guess I had to fall- always find my place among the ashes. I can't hold on to me, wonder what's wrong with me?"

-Evanescence (Lithium)

So, I'm thinking that perhaps, I'm going to write a short story soon.
Fiction finds itself based upon the truths that cannot be hidden.
Pain, love, and life. Everything is ubiquitous. So I will write, and share in the best
way I know how. Safely wrapped up in the security of the loss of details... while
still bearing for the world to see the feelings I have within me.

 

Pokémon- the infernal glitch (Part 3)

Yellow strutted along toward his next destination. If he had to get his badges back the hard way, so be it. After all, with this Caterpie, how could he possibly lose?

Or so he thought, until he remembered what his next gym battle would be.
Arriving in town, he let out a rather loud "fuck", when he saw Cerulean City before him. Remembering that his Caterpie seemed proficient with water attacks, he could tell right away it would be useless to even bother using him... unless it had some other trick up its sleeve.

As he took his first step into town, a man slammed into him in a rush. Both of them collapsed. Yellow was the first to get back to his feet. Infuriated, Yellow demanded that the man apologize.

"I don't need to apologize to a runt like you! And I'm busy!" The man yelled, turning his back and trying to climb over the small ledge that prevented most trainers from returning the way they came.

"Hey! I'm not done with you yet!" Yellow yelled, and with the full force of his body, he lunged at the man, just as he got a leg over the ledge. Grabbing onto his arm, Yellow pulled as hard as he could, but sadly the strange metallic gauntlet-like apparatus he was wearing simply came un-velcroed and fell off.

"Aww, shit! My snag gauntlet!" The man exclaimed, "The boss is going to kill me if he finds out I lost it! But whatever, I'm out of here! I'll figure something else out!"

No sooner than the man had left than Officer Jenny arrived upon her Vespa. Seeing Yellow standing next to the ledge as if he was about to climb it, Jenny made an assumption.

"You! Stop! You're under arrest!" Officer Jenny yelled.

"For what?" Yellow demanded.

"For attempted theft of a bicycle, and theft of two custom-ordered masterballs!" Jenny resounded, brandishing her handcuffs.

"Now wait just a second! I haven't tried to steal any masterballs! Or bikes!" Yellow countered, angry at being accused of petty theft. (Although, he admitted to himself, masterballs are somewhat rare and incredibly expensive.)

"Wait, you look familiar." Jenny said, thinking about the situation a bit more carefully. "Are you... Yellow? The pokémon trainer who..."

"Became the champion of the Elite Four? Yeah." Yellow interrupted.

"No, I was about to say, who recently lost his title of champion to another pokemon trainer, and has been accused of murder of an innocent Dewgong, leading to the life-threatening self-inflicted injuries of an attempted suicide by the Elite Four member, Lorelai. But obviously, you are he."

"Now, wait a second! If she had just opened the door..." Yellow said defensively.

"Well, you are fortunate. Since Lorelai has not yet regained consciousness and cannot press charges at this time, and the murder or even the passive and willful endangerment of the lives of pokémon is not a crime, there's nothing I can do." Jenny said with a tone of voice that implied that she wanted to cuff someone.

"Well, sorry, but I'm not the guy you were looking for and I need to get to Cerulean city to see Misty." Yellow said flippantly.

"Did you happen to see the suspect? I was trailing him, but he headed this way and disappeared in the tall grass."

"Yeah, I saw him. He climbed the ledge after assaulting me, and not apologizing." Yellow claimed, while hiding the gauntlet behind his back.

"Well, damn. This is bad. I have to go." Jenny said, doing a doughnut, and fleeing toward the City as fast as her Vespa could drive.

Yellow thought about the words of the suspect. So, he was a thief... and he called the metal sleeve a snag gauntlet... which sounded vaguely familiar. Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Yellow put the device on his arm. It fit perfectly, as designed, having Velcro straps to ensure that it would be well suited to fit any individual.

Yellow headed to the Cerulean gym. There, swimmers were training for an upcoming race. Yellow ignored them all, heading to Misty, who was just drying off. 

"Oh! Hey, Yellow. So, heard you lost the champ title, hmm? That's too bad. But that's what you get for being such a cheater." Misty said with a smug look. She seemed to be recalling how his first battle against her involved one incredibly mischievous, modest Pikachu who was (overall) outstanding in ability and couldn't be better in regard to its electric moves.

"Ow, Misty. I see you're still as ugly on the inside as ever. You may have that stupid tween Ash fooled, but I know better." Yellow laughed.

"Ugh, you're so infuriating, Yellow! Why are you even here!?" Misty yelled.

"Simple. I want another badge." Yellow said.

"What? Another Cascade badge? You must be kidding! This is your THIRD ONE! What did you do this time? Went skydiving off a Drifloon and forgot to secure your trainer case?" Misty inquired incredulously. She obviously didn't believe him the previous time, either, when he claimed that a rampaging stampede of Jumpluff had stolen his trainer case. Of course, she had been right. He'd simply lost it, but he'd never admit it to her.

"No. If you must know, it was stolen from me..." Yellow was about to say Blue did it, but he thought of an even better scapegoat, "by a man running from town with some masterballs in his possession after he knocked me down." Yellow retorted.

"Well, you know the rules. You want a badge, you have to earn it." Misty said, sticking out her tongue.

"Fine, let's battle." Yellow replied.

"I'm short on time. Our team has to train. How about an abbreviated battle. One Pokémon versus one Pokémon. First to be unable to use their Pokémon in battle loses." Misty suggested.

"Fine. I choose Caterpie." Yellow mumbled.

"WHAT?" Misty said as she burst into laughter so hard it brought tears to her eyes.
"Oh, this is rich! A Caterpie! Oh man, I can't wait for this." Misty said.

The battle began. Each trainer sent out their Pokémon, but Yellow still had an ace up his sleeve. Just after the battle started, Yellow threw a masterball. It, however, glowed with a strange light, and suddenly captured Misty's Starmie.

"Game set and match. I win." Yellow said, as Misty looked on in amazement. She had never seen anyone manage to capture another trainer's Pokémon before. Every time someone had done that in the past, the Pokémon had been able to resist. Misty, though peeved, gave him a Cascade badge.

"I never want to see your cheating face around here again. And don't you DARE think I'm going to let you just steal my Starmie! I'm filing a police report about this!" Misty cried as she ran off.

"Piece of cake. You know what? I could get used to this!" Yellow said, as he giggled and left the gym.