about wishing on stars (and the firm belief that there is good in everyone)- an overview
I ran away today, he said. And now I’m back.
He was twelve. He is fifteen. He was gone. He is back.
Everyone knows the basic story.
Bad family life. Broken home. Parents remarried. Hates Mom’s husband.
Anomalies: Loves Dad’s husband. Loves stepbrothers and sisters. Loves not being an only child. Has three men he calls Dad.
Of course the list continues, but i am sure that you get the picture.
A malcontent. A mover and shaker. A peculiar person.
One of four creative souls that make up Dori’s Redemption.
You have met two already. My boyfriend and Nathan.
Now i would like you to meet Corei.
Say hello.
*Corei*
There is nothing but time when you want it all to end. So many things that you could do. So many places you could go.
But what you really want is change.
All that power near the end- you control Life, Death, Decision- but only for yourself. So much power and all to no avail. Especially if you are like me and do not believe in suicide.
No power over Death after all. Not as much like Jesus as he would hope.
What would Jesus do- if he were me?
“Forgive others lest not your Heavenly Father forgive you.”
He always said that Jesus was the only man who was truly good.
He also said I was the only truly bad person he had ever met.
Two truths? Mistruths? One of each?
No matter.
What you want to know about is the six months.
I decided to run away today. And now I’m back.
But I was gone for three years.
Background:
. Ted There he was, silhouetted in the half-light, standing just out of reach of the hazy glow cast onto the sidewalk by the antique street lamp. Then Corei stopped. Halfway past the middle of the street! Ted felt the blood “What in hell were you thinking; Corei
“I was thinking of Jesus and resurrection and defying death.” Riddles, riddles. “You’ve been gone for three years, Corei. You say that like it just happened.”-- “Do not belittle this. You know what today is.” Today, today the significance of today. . . “April Fool’s Day,” he guessed, “The cruelest irony of all,” Corei replied bitterly. Then it hit Ted like lightning. “Your birthday,” he whispered--his beatific face-- “He— he never told me, I swear.” “He may have done it like that to protect me from you,” the night chill seep into his bones Three years. The young man stood regally. Dressed from headtotoe in black except for the silver cross he was in stark contrast to the innocent boy he’d once been. A mere shadow.--Where did I go wrong?” but no.--Corei finds Ted depressing!)
--Rebeca formerly Mrs. Elks- was engaged to Robert Henderson didn’t know that Ted had been cheating on her with a 17- year old boy. --No, no. Wonder child. Perfect son. Except that he was just a little too smart where did a 7 year old pick up words like “lover”? Probably Ted. Nah. He may be an unfaithful faggot…
-- Robbie run his house in the fear of the Lord.--Why get punished for something that was easily avoidable? boy had a sweet tooth. Acceptable- little boys like sweets--You will only spare the rod if you hate your son.”.Robert didn’t hate the child. Not really. corporal punishment. It took place in the basement, One lick if he cooperated Corei never received less than five child always did his chores, stopped being a smart aleck, and did not lie.--Spotted Corei limping slowly toward home with downcast eyes. God, the child was crying. The kid had it in for him. Robert slammed-“My teacher asked me to stay after school. I told him that I had to ride the bus but he said it was okay.” The child looked at Robert with perverse expectation.--Whatever he’d had to drink wasn’t sitting right so Robert grasped both of Corei’s small wrists with one hand and found some old clothesline to secure them First lick.“Say it. Thou shall not steal.” Just tears.Second lick.“Thou shall not steal.Crying a little harder.Robert’s patience had worn thin. Third lick. “Honor your mother and father and-” A gut-wrenching scream. The child’s.“You’re not my father!” screamed repeatedly, “I hate you!” “Shut up- stop screaming!” first item he could reach and struck repeatedly. He looked at his hands.
In them, a metal pipe. At the child. Funny. Now there really was
[--There are just too many people you can’t trust. regardless of what Ted did to him, the kid still loves him.]
--Rebellious would not be the word to describe More like malicious or malevolent, or just plain possessed.
immature, disrespectful little hellion “If you insist on disrespecting me and refusing to honor my wishes then you need to get out now,” Robert yelled The child left before his mother returned home from was part one of the escape ---Corey Until the divorce, Ted and his son had been really close There were things that seemed unhealthy about it, it was as he feared: Ted’s relationship with Corei was far from healthy. There were some nights that he would lie awake waiting for Ted tocomebacktobed, and other nights when he would feignsleepwhen his husband checked on him before he left, frozeninfear at the thought of whatTedmightdoifhefoundout that he knew.
--“Corey, if I asked you to do something for me would you do it?” Back to that skin-tinglingI-want-to-leavecowardly“Sparemeunscathed”flight-no-fightfeeling. He shifted his bony frame The boy approached him tentatively hand baring the object.
--“Kill me,” he said evenly. “A birthday is a cause for celebration.” “Not if you wish you were never born. Iwanttodie.”
--Corei I broke the fourth commandment, ‘Honor thy mother and father’ by running away but more importantly, I’d ruined my parent’s marriage. If it weren’t for me, Mom and Ted would still be together. But somehow she’d found out.
That was a little BKGD.
All the important points are emphasized for your convenience.
It is easier to be vague than it is to really tell the truth. When looking back, I can say that the past wasn’t painful but in actuality, it was so painful that I never really truly look back. And I never cover the six months.
If I do this, Alive will be the first reporter to ever get this out of me.
I don’t know why she’s so into the darker side of life… just a hobby, she says.
Of course I know why she’s interested. Everyone is.
So I finally said I’d do it. However, I keep wondering, what on earth have I gotten myself into?
There is no rest for the weary, not when it’s the soul, not body, that’s tired of life and living and running and hiding and wishing and wanting to be normal and loved, or at least whole again. There is no rest when ones destination is Death without Suicide or Life without constant Pain, whichever would come at the least cost. You would think there would be some respite for someone traveling unpursued but when you are on the road for as long as he was, you soon learn that you are always followed by something: namely, your past. No matter how fast or how far you run, you can never get away.
Many do not realize it but finding Death is not as easy as the statistics on runaways would lead you to believe. Example:
By late May he’d made it to Memphis
Perfect. Big city, high crime rate. Just what he needed.
The two hundred or so dollars that he’d taken from his father in April were long gone. He had given up the hope of instant death. It was overrated. Besides, to suffer is to find freedom. Maybe this way he would reach the end.
He was small and beautiful, with midnight tresses, eyes too stunningly blue to be ephemeral and skin far too pale to have ever seen the light of day. Few people asked questions when he asked for a quarter or whatever they were willing to give; his intent was obvious: He was hungry.
Corei hated to beg, though. There were so many other people standing outside of the local Piggly Wiggly. Sometimes entire families with bedraggled babies and sullen youth peeking out of every crevice of their stolen shopping carts, gleaning a dollar here and there, having their ragamuffins lick the special sauce off of a wrapper or a discarded bun then pass it on; there was the older man laid off from his menial maintenance job when the army base closed, who stood on the island in the middle of traffic with a small piece of aluminum siding that doubled as a rain shield, inscribed with the beggar’s creed: “Must Feed Family. Will Work For Food”.
Then there was Corei.
No sign. No family. Just those eyes. That face. That beauty.
The first few days he worked Beale Street
“Probably so,” he says.
Pride?
Fifty-six dollars later, he stopped.
On to a more honest living. In residential areas, there was always some irritating odd job that no one wanted to do. He could always find them. Too bad that they rarely ever paid. Usually reserved for the neighbor’s kid whose baseball went through the window. So much for honest work. Goodbye suburbia.
Besides, there was something about the big city that lured him. Might have been how easy it should have been to slip beneath the city’s surface and become another sad statistic. Or maybe it was the people.
Brownhairedbluehairedblondandtallnoshortandroundwithskinnythighsandmassive
hipsthelipswillslipfrombrownishfaceswithblueeyesnogreennobrownnogloriousblackened
nailssolongandsharpwillbitesoftskinwithvampicteeththatsingthesongofcities
He would sit on sagging park benches and watch them fly past or stand in storefront windows. He would watch them stare at him.
A man who was about forty-five years old stood watching for far too long one day. Corei could feel it. He left the store and crossed the street to the main library. Made like he was going in.
The man followed him. Into the bathroom. He heard the steady steps on the new tile.
Corei sat in the stall for five minutes. Flushed. Came out when he heard more voices. The man did not care. He still watched too closely. The other men left. Corei would have also, but he had to go after all. The man waited.
Corei was tired of running. This was early June. Had run for far too long.
“You’re staring at me.”
Rapid blinking. Tie too tight, maybe?
“You followed me from the store.”
What is it you want?”
Eyes wide. Pleading.
Pause. He sees his thoughts. The man begins to sweat. Corei waits.
Then his hand is out.
The man hands him his wallet. Corei follows him to his car.
To his house.
“The garbage.”
He drags the heavy black bag to the dumpster. Cannot put it in himself. He is much too small. The man helps.
“The kitchen floor.”
Corei sweeps the floor- “With the grain,”- as requested.
He will not remove his shirt.
“Scrub it.”
A brush and sponge. A bucket of steaming water. Looks longingly at the mop.
“On your hands and knees.”
Back and forth. Back and forth across that floor. With the grain again. Small muscles straining. Unkempt hair falling in his eyes.
Jeans are soaked by the end. T-shirt also. Almost transparent. Glued to his narrow back.
[“He could probably see the scars through it.”
Clenched teeth. “I hate that.”]
“Come with me.”
The man takes the wallet back. Corei follows.
A type of desecration ensues.
I asked him to describe how he felt at that moment.
“It is murder and candy and many rainbows and ash and broken glass and silver and darkness and fire and life.
“There was no death in his embrace,” he says wistfully.
Only in his words.
“All the things Robbie said I’d be; all the things I hated; all things he said my father was: those are what I was called by that one. I thought that was what I’d become.”
Corei grabbed his sodden clothes and ran out of the house. Dressed in the shed. A hundred dollars richer. And soaked through.
“Too bad it was June. Pneumonia would have been splendid.”
On to larger southern cites. Hopefully others paid as well. With less talk.
Only words could hurt him then.
“What was so hilarious is the perpetuation of it all. If I’d just stayed home I would have avoided all the others and only had- well, one to deal with. Then again, that’s the nature of disillusionment…”
And disappointment. Corei found out much too early in his life that even those that love you can cause you pain.
To be continued…
the House of rainbows and fire
The House of rainbows and fire is a place where the strangest sort of magic resides. It is magic born of boredom, or desperation, or possibly madness, in some instances.
For the record: This is not a group home or an institution. It is a private residence owned by a benevolent young man who has a very caring heart and wants his friends and family to be near to him. This is a place that could exist in virtually any large city. A place of contrasting phenomena and clashing personalities. A place that encompasses the chaos of the universe but maintains the balancing act between utter pandemonium and wayward serenity. Here, nothing is beyond the realm of possibility. (Except, perhaps, permanent peace?)
When i know who i am
To deny the darkness that bred you is to reject your true nature. To renounce your roots is to shun the ground that birthed you. To embrace the chaos is to transcend reality. To breach disaster is to shun raw fate.
The moral: everything is dependent upon interpretation.
about wishing on stars (and the firm belief that there is good in everyone)- an overview
I ran away today, he said. And now I’m back.
He was twelve. He is fifteen. He was gone. He is back.
Everyone knows the basic story.
Bad family life. Broken home. Parents remarried. Hates Mom’s husband.
Anomalies: Loves Dad’s husband. Loves stepbrothers and sisters. Loves not being an only child. Has three men he calls Dad.
Of course the list continues, but i am sure that you get the picture.
A malcontent. A mover and shaker. A peculiar person.
One of four creative souls that make up Dori’s Redemption.
You have met two already. My boyfriend and Nathan.
Now i would like you to meet Corei.
Say hello.
*Corei*
There is nothing but time when you want it all to end. So many things that you could do. So many places you could go.
But what you really want is change.
All that power near the end- you control Life, Death, Decision- but only for yourself. So much power and all to no avail. Especially if you are like me and do not believe in suicide.
No power over Death after all. Not as much like Jesus as he would hope.
What would Jesus do- if he were me?
“Forgive others lest not your Heavenly Father forgive you.”
He always said that Jesus was the only man who was truly good.
He also said I was the only truly bad person he had ever met.
Two truths? Mistruths? One of each?
No matter.
What you want to know about is the six months.
I decided to run away today. And now I’m back.
But I was gone for three years.
Background:
. Ted There he was, silhouetted in the half-light, standing just out of reach of the hazy glow cast onto the sidewalk by the antique street lamp. Then Corei stopped. Halfway past the middle of the street! Ted felt the blood “What in hell were you thinking; Corei
“I was thinking of Jesus and resurrection and defying death.” Riddles, riddles. “You’ve been gone for three years, Corei. You say that like it just happened.”-- “Do not belittle this. You know what today is.” Today, today the significance of today. . . “April Fool’s Day,” he guessed, “The cruelest irony of all,” Corei replied bitterly. Then it hit Ted like lightning. “Your birthday,” he whispered--his beatific face-- “He— he never told me, I swear.” “He may have done it like that to protect me from you,” the night chill seep into his bones Three years. The young man stood regally. Dressed from headtotoe in black except for the silver cross he was in stark contrast to the innocent boy he’d once been. A mere shadow.--Where did I go wrong?” but no.--Corei finds Ted depressing!)
--Rebeca formerly Mrs. Elks- was engaged to Robert Henderson didn’t know that Ted had been cheating on her with a 17- year old boy. --No, no. Wonder child. Perfect son. Except that he was just a little too smart where did a 7 year old pick up words like “lover”? Probably Ted. Nah. He may be an unfaithful faggot…
-- Robbie run his house in the fear of the Lord.--Why get punished for something that was easily avoidable? boy had a sweet tooth. Acceptable- little boys like sweets--You will only spare the rod if you hate your son.”.Robert didn’t hate the child. Not really. corporal punishment. It took place in the basement, One lick if he cooperated Corei never received less than five child always did his chores, stopped being a smart aleck, and did not lie.--Spotted Corei limping slowly toward home with downcast eyes. God, the child was crying. The kid had it in for him. Robert slammed-“My teacher asked me to stay after school. I told him that I had to ride the bus but he said it was okay.” The child looked at Robert with perverse expectation.--Whatever he’d had to drink wasn’t sitting right so Robert grasped both of Corei’s small wrists with one hand and found some old clothesline to secure them First lick.“Say it. Thou shall not steal.” Just tears.Second lick.“Thou shall not steal.Crying a little harder.Robert’s patience had worn thin. Third lick. “Honor your mother and father and-” A gut-wrenching scream. The child’s.“You’re not my father!” screamed repeatedly, “I hate you!” “Shut up- stop screaming!” first item he could reach and struck repeatedly. He looked at his hands.
In them, a metal pipe. At the child. Funny. Now there really was
[--There are just too many people you can’t trust. regardless of what Ted did to him, the kid still loves him.]
--Rebellious would not be the word to describe More like malicious or malevolent, or just plain possessed.
immature, disrespectful little hellion “If you insist on disrespecting me and refusing to honor my wishes then you need to get out now,” Robert yelled The child left before his mother returned home from was part one of the escape ---Corey Until the divorce, Ted and his son had been really close There were things that seemed unhealthy about it, it was as he feared: Ted’s relationship with Corei was far from healthy. There were some nights that he would lie awake waiting for Ted tocomebacktobed, and other nights when he would feignsleepwhen his husband checked on him before he left, frozeninfear at the thought of whatTedmightdoifhefoundout that he knew.
--“Corey, if I asked you to do something for me would you do it?” Back to that skin-tinglingI-want-to-leavecowardly“Sparemeunscathed”flight-no-fightfeeling. He shifted his bony frame The boy approached him tentatively hand baring the object.
--“Kill me,” he said evenly. “A birthday is a cause for celebration.” “Not if you wish you were never born. Iwanttodie.”
--Corei I broke the fourth commandment, ‘Honor thy mother and father’ by running away but more importantly, I’d ruined my parent’s marriage. If it weren’t for me, Mom and Ted would still be together. But somehow she’d found out.
That was a little BKGD.
All the important points are emphasized for your convenience.
It is easier to be vague than it is to really tell the truth. When looking back, I can say that the past wasn’t painful but in actuality, it was so painful that I never really truly look back. And I never cover the six months.
If I do this, Alive will be the first reporter to ever get this out of me.
I don’t know why she’s so into the darker side of life… just a hobby, she says.
Of course I know why she’s interested. Everyone is.
So I finally said I’d do it. However, I keep wondering, what on earth have I gotten myself into?
There is no rest for the weary, not when it’s the soul, not body, that’s tired of life and living and running and hiding and wishing and wanting to be normal and loved, or at least whole again. There is no rest when ones destination is Death without Suicide or Life without constant Pain, whichever would come at the least cost. You would think there would be some respite for someone traveling unpursued but when you are on the road for as long as he was, you soon learn that you are always followed by something: namely, your past. No matter how fast or how far you run, you can never get away.
Many do not realize it but finding Death is not as easy as the statistics on runaways would lead you to believe. Example:
By late May he’d made it to
Perfect. Big city, high crime rate. Just what he needed.
The two hundred or so dollars that he’d taken from his father in April were long gone. He had given up the hope of instant death. It was overrated. Besides, to suffer is to find freedom. Maybe this way he would reach the end.
He was small and beautiful, with
Corei hated to beg, though. There were so many other people standing outside of the local Piggly Wiggly. Sometimes entire families with bedraggled babies and sullen youth peeking out of every crevice of their stolen shopping carts, gleaning a dollar here and there, having their ragamuffins lick the special sauce off of a wrapper or a discarded bun then pass it on; there was the older man laid off from his menial maintenance job when the army base closed, who stood on the island in the middle of traffic with a small piece of aluminum siding that doubled as a rain shield, inscribed with the beggar’s creed: “Must Feed Family. Will Work For Food”.
Then there was Corei.
No sign. No family. Just those eyes. That face. That beauty.
The first few days he worked
“Probably so,” he says.
Pride?
Fifty-six dollars later, he stopped.
On to a more honest living. In residential areas, there was always some irritating odd job that no one wanted to do. He could always find them. Too bad that they rarely ever paid. Usually reserved for the neighbor’s kid whose baseball went through the window. So much for honest work. Goodbye suburbia.
Besides, there was something about the big city that lured him. Might have been how easy it should have been to slip beneath the city’s surface and become another sad statistic. Or maybe it was the people.
Brownhairedbluehairedblondandtallnoshortandroundwithskinnythighsandmassive
hipsthelipswillslipfrombrownishfaceswithblueeyesnogreennobrownnogloriousblackened
nailssolongandsharpwillbitesoftskinwithvampicteeththatsingthesongofcities
He would sit on sagging park benches and watch them fly past or stand in storefront windows. He would watch them stare at him.
A man who was about forty-five years old stood watching for far too long one day. Corei could feel it. He left the store and crossed the street to the main library. Made like he was going in.
The man followed him. Into the bathroom. He heard the steady steps on the new tile.
Corei sat in the stall for five minutes. Flushed. Came out when he heard more voices. The man did not care. He still watched too closely. The other men left. Corei would have also, but he had to go after all. The man waited.
Corei was tired of running. This was early June. Had run for far too long.
“You’re staring at me.”
Rapid blinking. Tie too tight, maybe?
“You followed me from the store.”
What is it you want?”
Eyes wide. Pleading.
Pause. He sees his thoughts. The man begins to sweat. Corei waits.
Then his hand is out.
The man hands him his wallet. Corei follows him to his car.
To his house.
“The garbage.”
He drags the heavy black bag to the dumpster. Cannot put it in himself. He is much too small. The man helps.
“The kitchen floor.”
Corei sweeps the floor- “With the grain,”- as requested.
He will not remove his shirt.
“Scrub it.”
A brush and sponge. A bucket of steaming water. Looks longingly at the mop.
“On your hands and knees.”
Back and forth. Back and forth across that floor. With the grain again. Small muscles straining. Unkempt hair falling in his eyes.
Jeans are soaked by the end. T-shirt also. Almost transparent. Glued to his narrow back.
[“He could probably see the scars through it.”
Clenched teeth. “I hate that.”]
“Come with me.”
The man takes the wallet back. Corei follows.
A type of desecration ensues.
I asked him to describe how he felt at that moment.
“It is murder and candy and many rainbows and ash and broken glass and silver and darkness and fire and life.
“There was no death in his embrace,” he says wistfully.
Only in his words.
“All the things Robbie said I’d be; all the things I hated; all things he said my father was: those are what I was called by that one. I thought that was what I’d become.”
Corei grabbed his sodden clothes and ran out of the house. Dressed in the shed. A hundred dollars richer. And soaked through.
“Too bad it was June. Pneumonia would have been splendid.”
On to larger southern cites. Hopefully others paid as well. With less talk.
Only words could hurt him then.
“What was so hilarious is the perpetuation of it all. If I’d just stayed home I would have avoided all the others and only had- well, one to deal with. Then again, that’s the nature of disillusionment…”
And disappointment. Corei found out much too early in his life that even those that love you can cause you pain.
the House of rainbows and fire
The House of rainbows and fire is a place where the strangest sort of magic resides. It is magic born of boredom, or desperation, or possibly madness, in some instances.
For the record: This is not a group home or an institution. It is a private residence owned by a benevolent young man who has a very caring heart and wants his friends and family to be near to him. This is a place that could exist in virtually any large city. A place of contrasting phenomena and clashing personalities. A place that encompasses the chaos of the universe but maintains the balancing act between utter pandemonium and wayward serenity. Here, nothing is beyond the realm of possibility. (Except, perhaps, permanent peace?)
When i know who i am
To deny the darkness that bred you is to reject your true nature. To renounce your roots is to shun the ground that birthed you. To embrace the chaos is to transcend reality. To breach disaster is to shun raw fate.
The moral: everything is dependent upon interpretation.
bravenet.com