Self worth

It’s amazing how we think of ourselves, and what light we shine on ourselves. I don’t know about you, but when I grew up, I had, somewhere along the line, adopted a notion that I had nothing to offer anyone least of myself. I would hermitise myself, walk away from people at school, bury myself in my own world at home and obligingly sit and wait as time ticked its never ending toll. As I grew this didn’t change. In fact, it became worse. As the responsibility of work and family came into my life it seemed easier to remove myself from any situation that conflicted with my own thoughts of self worthlessness. I made myself a victim. I have shed tears for no reason and I have bawled my eyes out at my own seclusion. I marveled at how efficiently I could be alone. I truly felt alone.

I started to listen to heavy metal when I was very young. I found solace in the profound expression it harboured, and grew to love how it accepted me, and understood me for who I was. It was always there for me and remains to be. Why is this important? I had found the key to my own release at a young age and ignored it. I used to think that the more brutal and expressive my music was, the more shocking it was to others, the more I liked it. The adult in me knows that the child in me always had the key. The key being; because I had found something that I could relate to, with a little effort, I could apply the same process to myself. So I did. I now no longer regret the person I became nor do I expect others to like me at face value. I like myself, and I have a beautiful wife and son who love me. That is all that counts.

I see people get treated by others in a bad way, probably because it fits their own reflection of themselves. We make our own emotional environments. Likewise I see people having a great time within a group and realize now it’s nothing to do with confidence or money or status. They are in touch with themselves.

Recently I had a dear friend of mine explain to me how much he loved me for me. To that friend I say thank you for seeing me for who I am, but more importantly, thank you for affirming that the projection of myself is now in tune with how I feel about myself. I feel great about me and you told me I was right. It was once said “In order to love another you must first love yourself”. I’m going to add a footnote to that quote. In order to find love in another, you must first love yourself and be bold enough to let another love you.

The Awakening

Darius froze. His cold limbs ceased all movement. Senses keen he scanned the forest seeking the origin of the noise. Not a noise really, just a rustle, like a leaf catching fabric. Nothing. The vampire took another step towards the small clearing ahead. The scent of the living assaulted him and amidst his ravenous hunger it threatened to corrupt his judgement. Twice now Darius had taken blood from victims here. This appeared to the growing vampire to be a rest spot of some sort. He could pick up their scent from hundreds of yards away, detected expertly through the acrid smell of smoke from their camp fires. The sweet smell of life that gave Darius strength and vitality. And the taste. The taste of human blood called to him.

His first victim had been completely unaware of the undead predator standing behind him. Darius had awoken on that night with the scent already upon him. Knowing this new strange creature had been near, Darius had crept slowly from his cave and found the man on the path to the east walking slowly leading a pack mule laden with wares and canvas covered sacks. The blood from the mule had been inviting, but the smell of the man called to Darius' soul. Aware the mule posed no threat to him Darius stalked the man to the edge of the clearing. He watched the man hobble the mule, light a fire and retrieve some goods from the sacks. Then he had risen and walked away some yards to urinate. By this time Darius had been drunk with hunger. In a blink the vampire covered the fifty yards between himself and the man. Standing within arms reach Darius had taken a long inhale and drank in the moment, his soul screamed to him and with powerful arms the vampire grabbed the man and sank his long teeth into the slender neck. Blood gushed into his willing mouth, the taste so exquisite he sank to the earth to finish. Then it happened. Discarding the wilted husk of his victim he lay back. His muscles twitched and his skin tightened, new found strength poured into his body. Darius opened his eyes. The scene shocking him for a moment, trees glowed with a green haze, the sky so clear now the stars and waning moon shone like the terrible sun. Turning he looked to the mule still hobbled at the campsite. It too had a glow about it, but it was the colour of blood. Crimson and bright and yet he felt no more hunger for it. The vampire stood and faced a nearby young birch tree. Knowing his intent Darius clenched a fist and thrust forward with all the power he could muster. The birch felt like water to his knuckles and splintered away allowing the twenty foot tree to topple and fall. The young vampire spread his lips into a grin, then widened it to a smile and screamed a soul tearing howl into the night, then in a flash of leaves, Darius was gone.

Courage

My my how far we've come. Long gone are the days of chivalrous knights and wondrous kings that ruled the land with wisdom and compassion. I see so many people walk the earth scared to talk to one another, and if they do, it's because of need, not want. Asking for directions; when is the last time you asked for directions AFTER first acknowledging the person with a greeting, or a smile? When is the last time you crossed the road because of someone walking towards you that looked a little too rough. Have they done anything to warrant that label slapped on them? Are they themselves slapping a label on you? What in hell is going on here???? Don't be afraid, be proactive. Its natural for people to put up walls of defences when in a strange environment. Let's try and break them down a little, just a little. If you were to do something unusual and spontaneous, like start laughing in a quiet store, others would laugh with you, why? Not because they think your crazy, it's because they now feel more comfortable in the presence of a familiar emotion. They laugh. Strike up a conversation with someone you have seen before at your bus stop, but never talked to. See what happens. Have the courage to be approachable and open, have the courage to be nice and compassionate, have the courage to present yourself to the world and be proud. These fools who attack helpless people, or go around in gangs hurting innocent people, they are cowards. Every last one of them. Meeting the world head on, with the resolve to be an individual, in all of your amazing diversity.......that's courage. Choosing not to follow the group and recognise others at an even level.....courage. Next time your met with a situation that threatens to break the mold, or take you out of your comfort zone, do it. Embrace the moment. Let the ride surprise you. Represent yourself to the world. Have the courage to be you, in a world of fantastic diversity.

Sniper

He turned his head slightly to try and glimpse the truck that groaned to his left. Hidden well beneath the brush and low bushes, complete with yowie suit, he knew he was undetectable. The large rifle strapped with reeds, grass, and small branches was light in his grip, the scope dialed to the central tent in the small compound ahead, the barrel protruding only slightly from the foliage. He knew he had been here for a while, the itching from the hessian camouflage suit had stopped and the numbness from being stationary for hours had begun, reducing his belly and arms to little more than a flesh mattress.

Idling now the truck chugged at the large entry gate to the compound, waiting for the driver to get the all clear from the sentries and allow him to pass through. That was the third truck that had arrived since he had taken his position here the previous dawn. Noticing the long shadows from the trees behind him, the dusk approaching, he settled again and focused once more on the target area. Optimal time for engagement was only fifteen minutes before dusk, one of the few times that General Rashav allowed himself for a quick smoke and some respite from planning the attacks on the Muslim township some 5 miles to the east.

Bradley lifted the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the scope. Taking note of the wind direction on the flag he adjusted a dial on the scope to compensate. The day guards were becoming restless just as they had this time yesterday. Readying themselves to hand over to the relief crew that would stand vigil for the evening, occasionally shining lights on the perimeter looking for breaches in the ten feet high razor wire fence. Twice last night a roaming patrol had passed within no more than a dozen paces of Bradley’s rifle muzzle, one had even urinated on a bush nearby and looked directly towards him only to finish and move on.

Rashav exited the rear of the tent and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply then releasing the large plume of smoke into the air. Bradley trained the crosshairs on Rashav’s forehead. Slowly applying pressure to the trigger he took a deep breath, released half of it, then held the rest for a few seconds to calm himself. The rifle kicked back predictably and sent the projectile racing towards Rashav’s head. The silenced weapon gave no clue that a shot had been fired some six hundred yards away. The canvas behind Rashav turned crimson and shook, pieces of cranial matter dripped and fell from the tent flap as more officers came from within. Shouts went up and an alarm was raised. One officer ran out of the tent and slipped on the pool of blood that had already formed at the floor of entrance.

Bradley replaced the cover to the scope, retracted his rifle beneath him and lay still. Soon it would be night. Soon he could begin the slow crawl to the hill behind him, only then could he be out of sight and run the 4 miles to the retrieval point.

The following morning Bradley climbed aboard the helicopter and secured his weapon. Captain McGinley tapped him on the shoulder and yelled over the noise of the helicopter rotors, “You need a shower, son”.

“Yes sir. Thirty four hours of bugs and snake shit for a single shot. Only way I know how to spend Christmas, Sir.”

Cold Start

Simon awoke no differently to any other day; alone, cold, clueless. Clouds of recent slumber still blurred his vision and his heart sang the same tune to his head, 'what now'? Reluctantly he swung his long lanky legs from the bed and whipped back his blankets, revealing his nakedness to a cold world of reality. What had he heard yesterday? That's right, the old man mountain climber, "I truly feel the present when I climb mountains. I feel the 'now'. That's passion. That's life."

"Fool." He spat out aloud, a little more harshly than intended. Simon didn't really think the man was a fool, just his perception of life. So withdrawn now in his thirty odd years in this world it was impossible for him to see anything optimistically, not like those freaks who run around hugging trees and kissing babies, telling the world how great it is to be alive then blowing the head off a guy at an intersection for not letting them merge. Or the Sunday church lovers; lovers of Christ, lovers of life, lovers of thy neighbour whenever hubby isn't around, spraying themselves over each other in a dance of sin. They have no idea on true love. Love delivers, love is, love drives, love heals. Karen had shown him the truth in all these. So many years had passed since their meeting and, eventually, marriage, and still Simon gets anxious immediately before Karen would enter the room, twitching, shuffling, hearing her footfalls and standing to greet her, as if he could, in some way, measure up to the beauty of her being. Simon had known a few women, became close to even fewer, none of whom had inspired him the way Karen does.


But she wasn't here now. Again, he was alone, alone and cold. "Get dressed you bloody idiot" he scolded himself. With heavy limbs and a weary heart, Simon Vale met the new day, one leg at a time.

Unlikely friends

The scent of blood called to Darius. Slow footfalls on the soft grass of the meadow the only sound to be heard. Some minutes had passed since he picked up the smell and followed it. Unmistakable to the young Undead, he knew it led to prey, and the all important energy that it returned to him. With the sinking sun this night Darius had awoken with a hunger unparalleled in his short physical life. The fawn from the previous hunt had filled him with strength, but it had waned quickly and his being yearned for the life force to be replenished.

Senses keen the almost inaudible groan rang loud in his head. Seeing a large oak tree further in the direction of the noise Darius sprinted for it, legs bounding with seemingly no effort yet propelling him forward and at incredible pace. Beyond the large solid tree Darius could make out the panting form of large grey wolf laying on its side, the rich heady aroma of crimson life seeping from a large gash in the belly. Darius scanned the surroundings for competitors seeking to rob him of his find. Satisfied he was alone he again turned back to the creature, inadvertently locking eyes with him. At that moment Darius was filled with emotion. Through the eyes of the wounded animal he could feel its' own hunger driving him, could sense the heart beat faster as the scent of the large boar washed over him, the thrill of the silent hunt hitting Darius like an opiate, and finally the burst of fire in his own midriff as the tusk tore deep into his form. Realisation struck Darius like the morning dawn, this beast was a hunter.

Darius rose from behind the tree and stepped closer to the wolf, not to feed, but to observe. Crouching now he began to lay hands on the animal feeling the heat from the open wound, using all his will not to drink from such an easy source. As he neared the gash the wolf turned with blinding speed biting at Darius. Swiftly clamping a strong hand over the drooling maw holding it closed, Darius bit into his own pale wrist, allowing the blood to fall into the stricken hunter. The pressure on the clamped hand began to release and Darius lowered the large head to the grass beneath. As he did so the beasts breathing began to steady and the wound started to mend, knitting itself before the vampire. Glancing down he noted his own bite mark had already fully healed. As he backed away his limbs felt heavy, his head swam with the uncertainty of a drunken man, and legs struggled to hold the lean figure upright. Although the night was young, he must get back to his cave.

It seemed like an age before the sanctuary of his shelter loomed over him. Thoughts no longer raced and the weakness had ceased. All that was left was fatigue. Every portion of his frame seemed to weigh on him like stone. From a distance, Darius heard a long confident howl then slid helplessly into slumber.

Fear and love

'If you see someone without a smile, give them yours.' - Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman

How true is this. Some of the most meaningful conversations i have had have been waiting in the supermarket checkout. Not necessary to trade names, or to judge by looks. Just open up and embrace the fact that you both exist, both are harmless, both are experiencing the same things at that time. One lady I spoke to gave me some advice on a particularly icky subject; family. I tried her advice and it changed the way I look at things. She will never know, but I am a better man for having met her. All it took is for her to impart what she knew, and most importantly, for me to accept it. And, the best way for me to thank her is to pay it forward.

Don't be afraid of each other. Make the choice between fear and love. No money or long motivational courses needed. No need to seek professional help. Fear and love.

The kill

Darius leaned back and savoured the thrill of the hunt. Blood dripped from his relaxed jaws. His lean yet awesomely powerful arms cleared away the crimson fluid from his face one by one. Basking in the moonlight he felt the blood energy surge into his being, filling his body with strength and sharpening his senses. He would like to find another beast from which to feed, but the night air was chill now and he knew that soon he would have to retreat to his sheltered hollow. He gazed down upon the fawn from which he had fed, just the drained husk remained now, all the blood having been consumed.

Soberly, Darius rose and gazed about him, searching for signs of life in the near vicinity. Satisfied there was none he turned and made his way through the thick standing of spruce toward the slow moving river and finally up toward the large jutted outcropping of rock that he had made his shelter some three nights previous. It was here that he spotted the fawn so near to the water's edge. He grinned at the memory of the hunt, stalking and crouching low and keeping as silent as possible. Only when the fallen twig beneath his bare feet creaked did the fawn sprint for cover. Darius leaped and was able to chase down the animal with ease, ripping long claws into its throat and drinking deeply from the gaping wound. It took mere seconds for the creature to die, the writhing becoming slow and less rhythmic until, at last, ceasing altogether.

Standing at the mouth of the cave he observed his domain, once again for the tell tale faint green glowing aura of prey. Moonlight bathed the river with a soft pearly blanket of light and the terrain was easy for Darius to see. From his high vantage point he could see the river snaked its way past his cave and through the clearing to the left. Towards his right the rocks got steeper and much higher, beyond that, all he could see were the canopy of the oak trees that filtered the moonlight in the breeze. From his left a bat swept down toward his head, he snatched it from the sky before the bat could react and began to devour the life blood from the creature. Discarding the lifeless animal, Darius turned and set down at the back of the cave. There he waited for the bright light to emerge from beyond the trees above and eventually sink on the other side of the river. The night air beckoned him out, but the excruciating pain of the bright orb soon to come was more than he could bear.

Introduction

Hi folks,

This blog is all about getting your daily chew. Some small passages of thought and short stories to escape the daily grind. Thank you for Viewing and please leave any thoughts or comments.

:)

Steve Ryan