Unfinished Short: "The Plan"

This is an unfinished break-in crime story that I started on a whim one day. Its just a blurb from the section of the story. It's unpolished, even for my work. So take a gander. I'm sure there is a good story in there somewhere.


"This IS easily the worst idea you've ever had."

"Why would you say a thing like that? On no grounds does this even qualify for worst idea? How is this the worst idea?"

They'd been arguing since they switched cars at the empty parkade. The van they were riding was old
There was no radio only uncomfortable silence that had to be filled with argument

"How is this the worst idea?! Are you crazy?! Um I don't know? How about the part where we break into a ...

"Will you try to fucking relax? Everything is going to go off without a hitch. I've seen this done before."

"Great. You've seen this done before. You saw some two-bit thugs wail on a safe in some video- He exhaled deeply, slowly, trying to keep a grip on what remained of the situation I'm really relaxed now"

It was true, he had seen it been done before. What kind of help that would amount to now was anybody's guess.

They would have
It was for poker.

Are you prepared to use it? Answer that question. Can you- tell me- that if becomes "necessary"- you're going to pull that trigger?

He prayed in his head the answer was no but he knew that all bets were off. This was a brand new game of cards. And with the odds both of those boys were drawing to could very easily be yes.

J thought about it His aim was good. He didn't know if it was that good.

"I don't know."

It wasn't a yes. But for what exactly that was worth at this point it might as well have been.

They stepped out of the van into the ally. The rain was comming down much harder now. It soaked through the jackets and coveralls. The rain was warm.

"So, we're really going to do this?"
"So, we're really going to do this."

With one last pause they said their last silent hail marys and began to climb the fire escape. The clank of hard CAT soles on an old steel ladder filled the air.

"The Plan"

It was quite genius, really.

The door was steel and locked into place with a rather large dead bolt. And if you were skilled enough to knock down the door the alarm sensors on the door would instantly trigger the alarm promptly dispatching the authorities

Being the stronger of the two had the uneasy job of carrying "plan b". Plan B was two re-enforced 25 sledge hammers, 4 steel spike wedges, and two of the biggest oil rig pry bars they could find

FS 371 Final Paper: Unnatural Nature

Unnatural Nature:
A Look At Nature in the Animated Family Features Ice Age, Ice Age: The Meltdown, and Madagascar

Since the late 80’s post-modernity (as ideas and themes) in Hollywood cinema has appeared in many films. Though today Hollywood cinema is still primarily composed of classically themed stories other types of film are beginning to emerge There is, however, a genre of film that has seldom fallen into post-modern characterization: Family Film. Family films, traditionally, have been classical tales of right and wrong, or of love and loss, and triumph in the face of struggle. The same holds true more so when considering animated family movies. Most animated feature releases have belonged to the Disney family of films. Movies like The Little Mermaid (Ron Clements and John Musker, 1989), The Lion King (Roger Allers and Rob Minkoff, 1984), Aladdin (Ron Clements and John Musker, 1992), and The Incredibles (Brad Birdman, 2004) are perfect examples of this classically ideal type of movie. However, as the technology and the resources (not to mention demand) for these kinds of films have increased, and become more accessible, other major studios have begun releasing their own animated family films. Studios like 20th Century Fox and DreamWorks SKG have recently released their own animated films. However, some of these possess darker truths and hollow resolutions that loom over the type of classical ideal you normally find in these movies. In this essay I will explore the films Ice Age (Chris Wedge, 2002), Ice Age: The Meltdown (Carlos Saldanha, 2006), and Madagascar (Eric Darnell and Tom McGrath, 2005) for themes and ideas that can be considered post-modern. By looking at the portrayal of nature, and ideas of what’s natural in these films I hope to bring to light a new trend in animated feature films.

The films that I have selected to analyze for this paper all have animals as the main characters for the film. As such, a major source of conflict and moral focus is how the characters in each film feed themselves. Food is a necessary element in sustaining any sort of animal life, and it is no secret that animals consume other animals to stay alive. This is normally not problematic for the viewer, however, but now that these animals have taken on human characteristics (i.e. sentience with complex and higher thought) moral imperatives come into play. For instance, when the character of Alex the Lion, from Madagascar, is consumed by his natural hunger and feels the need to consume his friends (specifically, Marty the Zebra) this is seen as a terrible and frightful development. Though it may be unsettling to the viewer is it really that surprising? Wrong, even? We know that an animal like Alex has to consume another animal to survive. Recall his perfect sirloin steaks from the beginning of the movie. Where are they coming from? Does the movie expect us to assume that these steaks are some how organically grown vegan steaks? It is only when Alex views his own friends as dinner that it becomes barbaric and wrong to consume meat. Miraculously, though, within the last five minutes of the movie the crafty penguins introduce Alex to the “better than steak” replacement that is sushi. Apparently fish (at least the kind used to make sushi), because they exist outside of Alex’s sphere of existence, are not worthy of consideration and are probably incapable of complex thought processes.

What, as the audience, can we take away from this? The deus ex machina solution to Alex’s hunger is so much a joke that as a viewer we cannot take it seriously. With that in mind, we are then forced to examine the conflict and to figure out why it seems okay to resolve this conflict in this fashion. If one interprets the humanization of the animals as also equalizing, in moral worth, them we are left with a very dark truth about how, as people, we operate. Assuming, of course, that we are all created equal the movie reflects either our xenophobia or callous indifference to individuals who exist outside of our spheres of existence. For example, how we falsely feel that we are connected to the rest of the world via TV, and the Internet, and arrogantly purport to “care” for everyone around the world. We say all this while exploiting underprivileged peoples in ghettos and third world countries.
The films Ice Age and Ice Age: The Meltdown do not deal with this issue any better. In fact, both films avoid the issue completely. Granted, in Ice Age, there is a brief reference to the humans hunting for food and pelts (which we assume to be fore survival). This issue, however, is skirted by drawing the audiences attention away by introducing terribly evil and vengeful Soto, and the slapstick follies of the main characters. This issue is neglected, even contradicted, in the sequel Ice Age: The Meltdown. The film takes place well after the first and notably, still, does not deal with the issue of hunting for survival. In a veritable tropical paradise the character Diego, the bad turned good sabre-toothed tiger, romps about with his motley crew of vegetarian friends. This all begs the question, “Where does Diego get his food from?” Are we to assume that some willing animal, possibly with a family, willing gives their life so that Diego can live? Or, is there some distant neighboring herd of animals that nobody cares about? All this aside, instead of dealing with this issue Ice Age: The Meltdown contradicts itself with the introduction of the aquatic reptile predators. Though they may look menacing do not speak and it would be fallacious to assume that they are consuming different animals out of malice. Instead, their lack of dimension, I believe, would imply that they are acting out of a natural (though vicious) instinct. Now, all of a sudden there is some moral imperative that allows Diego’s consumption of animals to be allowed and the reptiles not. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not supposed to cheer when Manny the Mammoth defeats the reptiles. Am I now supposed to believe that if you can survive predatory attack that’s all well and good but if you cannot then its your fault for being weak? This idea seems more problematic than not dealing with the issue altogether. Unlike most animated family features before it there is no real way of telling what the directors were thinking on this issue. It may be the case that the issues in question were to complex to be able to deal with in a clean-cut kind of way. The omission of this subject, I believe, is the director’s is a way of tacitly saying that the need to kill out of necessity, or survival, is legitimate. However, at the same time it raises questions of our own exploitation of others and does not answer them. Ultimately, one this topic the films provide less resolution than one would expect.

At this point I would like to draw attention to the portrayal of nature, or wild, in the Ice Age movies. Undoubtedly, the portrayal of the outside world is negative and harmful to those who inhabit it. First, and most readily readable is the apparent physical dangers. In the first movie, Ice Age, the danger is of course the lethally cold weather that all the animals must flee. The second film has a reversal of the weather which results in a massive flood that threatens to wipe out all known life in the area. There is also, of course, the constant presence of predators waiting for the right opportunity to consume you. What all this does, in effect, is create a sense of danger and estrangement with the characters and nature in the movie which subsequently is passed onto the audience. This is counter-intuitive for what one would consider a family film. The idea the natural environment for all the animals seems to be working against them leaves us to wonder about our own environment and how it acts against us. The best example for this is, of course, the adventures of Scrat (the protosquirrel) and his constant struggle involving his acorn. For the entire movie this poor protosquirrel, to the delight of the audience, constantly faces perilous heights, collapsing glaciers, dangerous ice, treacherous water, and even molten lava, all in an effort to find peace with his acorn. The world around him being such a cruel and unusual place Scrat never does get his acorn which is of course a sad and strange moral about the world. Further, even at the end of the movies we know that these animals are bound for extinction. We know that the mammoth and the sabre-toothed tiger will become extinct either by virtue of being killed by the changing climate or another predator. This is unsettling and hangs over the end of the movies like a big proverbial, “So, what?” Granted some may go on to survive, and maybe even find some measure of happiness, but really in the end there is no escape. Once again, this time in Ice Age: The Meltdown, Scrat and his acorn struggles best embody it. Finding himself in even more precarious situations Scrat is still unable to find peace, that is, until he dies and finds himself in heaven. It becomes clear that the message here is that no happiness or salvation to be had in life on Earth, and the best hope you have for such things is to be found in the afterlife (if such a thing exists).

Looking at Madagascar the idea of behavioral nature is where the harm and displacement stem from in the environment. For instance, if we were to look at Alex the Lion again we would see that much of estrangement the characters experience is due to giving into natural behavior. We understand lions to be the king of the jungle, the top of their food chain, but for Alex giving into such behavior results in the loss of your friends and social contact altogether. That aside, the animals of Madagascar associate and carry on in a way that would imply that there isn’t comfort to be found in those who are characteristically like you; Rather, there is only comfortable association in those that are equally as estranged from their own. How else would one explain a lion, a zebra, a giraffe, and a hippopotamus get along so well? The same holds true even for the mammoth, the sloth, and the sabre-toothed tiger of the Ice Age movies. Returning back to Madagascar, this idea is enforced even further by the predatory Foosae (plural of Foosa) that inhabit Madagascar. In the movie the Foosae are the only animals that act naturally and truly live a “wild” life and as a result are vilified and live unintelligibly in relative squalor. There seems to be, then, only undesirable consequence from nature. Recognize the dangers and find that you are not apart of it and become estranged, or be a part of it and fall victim to it. Ironically enough, however, the wild and natural impulses that Alex had which drove his friends away ultimately are what save the lives of his friends and the lemurs. Still, it seems the best that you can hope for, really, is to be acquired by some sort of caretaking being so as to be isolated (and thus protected) from the painful world around you. This is strange considering that not too long ago films like Free Willy championed the cause of animal freedoms along with many other organizations out there that protest against animal captivity. According to the Ice Age films, as well as Madagascar, the world is a vile and horrible place and there is no happiness to be found in it. To be truly happy you must me in a closed, controlled and maintained (read: distant, but not separate from killing), environment so that any natural impulses you may have can be snuffed out or bypassed.

The stories for the movies are relatively the same - a motley group of animals is placed in danger and through friendship and teamwork prevail over the antagonist forces, etcetera, etcetera. Though these animated family films were widely watched box office successes they were not without darker and unsettling elements. In a genre dominated by the certainties of black and white certainty Ice Age, Ice Age: The Meltdown, and Madagascar exhibit moments of moral grayness and raise many questions only to leave them unanswered. I don’t believe that these things are intentional results placed consciously by the different directors. Instead, I feel that these ideas are recent trends that are beginning to invade a traditionally classical genre as a result of the changing world around us. As the world becomes less ideal so do the movies we watch. It is only a matter of time before a complete reflexivity is reached in family movies and the didacticism comes from an awareness of the world around you. Just then we may find that there really wasn’t any hope after all.

WRITE 298: The Memoir

The Mise-en-Scene of Dreams:
A Memoir on Passion and Film

“In 1966 Andy Dufrense escaped from Shawshank Prison. All they found of him was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and a rock hammer damn near worn down to the nub. I remember thinking it would take a man 600 years to tunnel through the wall with it, Ol’ Andy did it in less than twenty. … Andy crawled to freedom through 500 yards of shit smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want to. 500 yards. That’s the length of 5 football fields, just shy of half a mile.” (The Shawshank Redemption, Frank Darabont, 1994)

I watched intently, my eyes powerfully fixed to screen, sitting on the edge of my seat. Never before had I been so engrossed by story. My heart was beating with anticipation as I watched Tim Robbins, as Andy Dufrense, pick clumsily at a cell wall. I just knew he would make it out someday. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and playing on my living room TV was the film The Shawshank Redemption. I was 11 years old when I first saw it, I haven’t looked at movies the same way since. It was the first movie of that kind – that is to say, something from genre of drama – that I’d watched in its entirety and enjoyed. I would be lying if I said I understood it all back then. Maybe I was too young to understand it all, but I understood enough. It was a gripping tale of perseverance and justice told beautifully with pictures and sound.

Following Shawshank, every Saturday, without fail I would go down to the local movie store and rent at least one movie. This weekend ritual would happen for quite sometime. Following my Saturday evening rentals, on Sunday there would always be at least one movie on some channel that I could watch. It was like a perpetual two for one special that I cashed in on every weekend. On each one of those Sunday afternoons the sun shone so brightly. It streamed in though the windows and left its fingerprints on the floor. The spots that had been drenched in sun became warm. And just like a lazy cat or a tired dog I would find those spots and occupy them, one by one, soaking up the warmth while I contently watched movies.

What was important about The Shawshank Redemption wasn’t the story it told – though, undoubtedly, there is a lesson to be learned in there – rather it was the love of film that it left me with. Though my full appreciation for film wouldn’t be realized until much later on in my life the feeling was there. In other words, I felt the heat of my mind’s fire yet did not understand from where the heat came. It was heat with no light.

So, for years I saw the world in Panavision and dreamt in Technicolor. I would daydream about being my favorite characters. There were many hours spent at my desk in math class where I imagined myself to be the Dread Pirate Roberts. Countless others spent in the Jungle with Bagera or amongst the stars with Luke Skywalker. There were times when I even dreamed about being an actor making a great movie. It was a fantasy within a fantasy. Ha! To be that young and that self-reflexive about filmmaking! Let me tell you, the irony is not lost on me – but I digress. This daydreaming would continue for years. About the time that I began immersing myself in film my best friend, sometimes only friend, moved away to China. Being an only child made the move quite difficult on me. So, like I had done before I turned to films to fill the void. And though my friend would return in a few years as I entered high school academic pressures began to weigh on my shoulders. My parents pushed me hard into the International Baccalaureate program in, too hard in fact. I felt pressed, most if not all of the time, to live a life that wasn’t my own. By all this I do not mean to say my parents were ogres - though I may have called them such at the time – I still care and respect them quite dearly. However, my social life did suffer because of their unrelenting drive to succeed. So, the many nights spent at home with schoolwork were punctuated only by movies or my fantasies thereof. It was easy to turn to Hollywood when times got tough. Hollywood painted the world with beautiful innocence. No matter how dire or complicated a situation became there was always some action, some fantastic series of events that would bring you to the end. All that was right would prevail. That was a comforting idea to me then, and it still is now.

Jump ahead a few years. I took my first Film and Media Studies class – now known just as Film Studies – in January of this year. Really a long time coming if you ask me. Sitting in the tiny lecture for the first time, in the third row from the front, was like sitting in a theatre eagerly waiting for movie to start. I half expected the words “feature presentation” to appear on the whiteboard. Every time I picked up the textbook I flipped through the pages furiously, and scoured over every last detail being sure to mark to memory every last word and screenshot. I remember reading the textbook cover-to-cover marking the names of all the directors and movies I’d never seen before but would surely have to watch. My textbook still its on my shelf, dog eared with barely legible scribbles in the margins. A well read book, indeed. And that was just the class.

The film screenings for class were every Wednesday evening at 6:30pm. They were held in the Humanities Center Lecture Hall #1. It looked like an old Greek amphitheatre with seating in a semi-circle reaching almost 3 stories high. There was no popcorn, no reclining high-backed seats, and no surround sound so it wasn’t your ideal moviegoer’s experience. However, what it lacked in amenities it more than made up in atmosphere. The walls were warm with their wood paneling and combined with the strangely orange seats it was all almost inviting. Of course, there was also the audience. Over 100 FMS (Film and Media Studies) students, myself included, turned up every Wednesday to watch timeless classics. Together there was a synergetic enjoyment in watching those movies knowing, of course, that everyone was there for the same reason. My excitement bled from my very being. You could have waved your hands in the air around me and felt my excitement make the air thicker. The first time I ever saw Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) was at my FMS lab. I knew then and there that it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Things became much clearer as the class went on. Films became more than films,; they had become compositions. Lighting, continuity, angles, shots, takes, acting, directing, these things were what films were made of. These things I understood. In fact, I could do it myself, and I could be damn good at it, too. When that last bit occurred to me I’m not too sure. It could have been in class one day, it could have been at home while I was watching Pirates of the Caribbean (Gore Verbinski, 2003). There was a new invested interest in going to class. It was more than just an enjoyable way to get good grades. With the lessons were the secrets and the tools I needed to make my own movie. It was light to accompany the heat; this was my mind’s fire.

The semester, unfortunately, passed quickly and with its quick passing brought with it term papers and finals. I had a strong semester averaging a grade of A and with continued effort my final grade would be the same. However, I had grown arrogant in my newfound scholastic success. For my term paper I decided that it was in the best interests to be experimental with the topic, to go my own route, if you will. My whimsical interpretations earned me a C+. For some this would have been somewhat of a wake up call, a warning sign to straighten up and fly right. For me, it was an excuse to skip the remaining classes. After all, what did my professor know anyway? I was an A student, well, maybe not after that paper but you could bet the farm that I was going to be after the final. There was no need for me to show up, I picked up what was being put down, I was a natural. The final was quick on the heels of the term paper, I walked into it totally unprepared. Arrogance is a fickle mistress, and left unchecked it leads to hubris. Hubris, for those who don’t know, is the fatal cousin of arrogance. I didn’t do well on the final, needless to say. But I was lucky though, my early diligence in the class had allowed me to claw away with a final mark of B.

That was the end of my third year, my University career was drawing to a close and I had to begin to choose where I was going to go with my education. For a while there I thought that maybe, just maybe, film was my true calling. However, getting only a B in FMS left me with seeds of doubt. In mere moments doubt can grow giant and loom over that which you hold to be true and dear. Do I really have what it takes to be a filmmaker? Do I care enough about making movies to make this my life’s goal? Everyone knows that being an artist, regardless of medium, isn’t the most lucrative occupation. What’s more I don’t really think that anyone really wants to be a waiter at their local Earl’s for the majority of their adult life. So, all together, on top of the dark and ominous “B” in my FMS class I have to be willing to sacrifice a comfortable future to follow this ambition. Somehow, deciding to go to film school had become a very hard pill to swallow. The alternatives? I could handle pulling up my bootstraps and getting into the Faculty of Law, that would be great. Or, I’ve always thought it would be cool to be one of those inspirational high school teachers, too. Maybe, just maybe, I might get together with some friends and open up a nice restaurant and bar. There are a myriad of much more practical things that I could see myself doing. All of which, I would enjoy very much.

What was I to do? This summer, I made up my mind. I am going to film school. Wow. How do you tell yourself something like that? How do you explain to your own common sense and reason that you may, in fact, be condemning yourself to financial destitution and possible failure? There isn’t much to say, really. I have dream, I want to do it, I am going to do it. That’s the gist of it. Don’t get me wrong, I still wonder what the future holds for me. Finding the money to go to film school still remains a mystery. Winning the lottery is still Dream Plan A, of course. Have I lost any sleep over the decision I’ve made, yet? The answer to that question, actually, is no.

In Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless (1960) there is a line that resonates with me. When the character Mr. Parvulesco, a famous novelist, is asked, “What is your life’s greatest ambition?” After a momentary pause he looks directly into the camera and replies, “To become immortal, and then die.” Through time and space that image, that actor, those words reached out and branded me. To understand the art of film making, to become a part of it, that is what I strive for. My life’s passion will be fully realized when after I am gone people remember what I’ve done as part of cinematic institution. In other words, dear reader, my passion in life is to become immortal and then die. As I finish this memoir and look ahead I feel it appropriate to end as I began. The character Red, at the end of The Shawshank Redemption, spoke the following words:

“I’m so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the kind of excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. … I hope the pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams.”

He said those words as he set of into the unknown looking for his friend and new life. His was a journey not unlike my own, the only difference is that my ocean is made of actors, and cameras, and lighting. But hey, if I ever make it out to the Pacific I’ll be sure to let you know what color it is. I might even just put it in a movie.

Alchera Project No. 36 Submission

List/Option No.4 ...sort of.

I warn you now that in making this list I'm opening a Pandora's Box of self-indulgence. At first I thought this was too easy. I could just wish myself superpowers, or maybe 1 trillion dollars, thereby encompassing every possible desire with a few broad changes. But lets think about that for a moment. Remember Spider-man? "With great power comes great responsibility," and so on. If I did turn myself into someone with near God-like powers would I be responsible for using those powers for "good" or could I get away with not using them at all? The idea of being morally forced into constant selfless servitude doesn't quite sit so well with my selfish side. Besides, who am I to determine a paradigm of morality for everyone to follow anyway? Okay, scratch superpowers. Whatever, I'm still rich right? Hmm, maybe not. Not knowing what, exactly, the creation or reallocation of 1 trillion dollars would have on the world's economy I'm sure that the disbalance created would result in some sort of horrible deflation or depression. What about wishing for a smaller amount of money? Or maybe making everything free? Can't do that either. First, making Ferrari's and expensive clothing free would just remove any sort of significant social status (the main lure in the first place) of the item in question. Now, with all that said, I have placed the following conditions on my list. A list within a a list, if you will:

The changes have to be possible.

They can really only effect myself (or a small group of people like myself).

No copping out. Example: Everyone named Chris Laver, from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, who also happen to be 21 years of age, never have to pay for a thing... and will have beautiful models constantly flock to them.

Those are the conditions. They don't really make for a wild and crazy list, but they don't take some of the zest and challenge out of life either. And now that I've strayed far off topic, I give you the REAL list. Marvel at the incoherence of thought... Do it... Marvel, damn you!

1) "Nice guys" finish first. This is self-explanatory.

2) You don't get graded at University. This one is an absolute must for lazy students such as myself. I thoroughly enjoy the subject matter of the courses I take at University. I do not, however, enjoy getting graded and assessed on my ability to retain/comprehend/critically analyze said subject matter. Truthfully, I really just like to read big books with big ideas on big things and feel elitist about my level of education. There, I said it.

3) Television Sci-Fi and Comic books as highly respectable forms of literature. The world WOULD BE a perfect place if instead of, "Wow, you're a loser," I heard, "Wow, that's really cool. You must be really smart," When I regaled people with my favorite comic story arcs or Stargate episodes.

4) Gil as legal and acceptable tender. Oh boy- this one is going to take quite a bit of explanation for my gaming handicapped readership. There is a genre of game that is called RPG. RPG really just stands for Role Playing Game. Essentially, in an RPG you assume the role of one character (sometimes a small party) and you play through a fictitious universe helping the character grow stronger, acquire items, etc. completing some sort of storyline. Now, in the popular Final Fantasy game series, the monetary unit was Gil. Seeing as how I played countless hours of that game in my life time I've acquired millions of dollars worth of Gil. So it would be nice to have all the time and effort I've put in manifest itself in more ways than a digitally rendered broadsword.

5) Gameplay on Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2004, for the Xbox game console, would be recognized as a valid play on the actual PGA Tour. Lets be honest here, I friggin' rock at this game. And seeing as how the sport of Golf is one of the most prestigious and well-paying (truly an understatement) sports in the world it would be easy with my oh-so-practical videogame skill to become the next Tiger Woods.

6) Round trip flights from Edmonton to Las Vegas would cost $20 CDN. Flights to Los Angeles, New York, London, Tokyo would be $5 CDN. Working only one job, part-time, has really hampered my ability to travel and see the world. Naturally, the best way to remedy this would be to make flights from my place of residence (Edmonton, Alberta, Canada) cheap.

And lastly, if I could change the world I would be the sunlight in your universe. Eat your heart out Eric Clapton.

Alchera Project No. 35 Submission

Option 1/Prose

"Nothing Better"
By Chris Laver

The first thing that he noticed was the cool breeze pushing through the window shades falling coldly on his face. His bed was right underneath the window. It was around 10:30 in the morning, or so, and the morning sun was streaking across his face in full force - not being a morning person he, of course, had the delightful misfortune of having a bedroom which caught, quite heartily, the morning sun. It had become too bright to continue sleeping. Time to rise and shine. With a deep breath he expanded his chest and forced his still sleeping limbs out as far as they would go, clenching every muscle he could imagine, until he felt they awoke. Tossing his bed cover aside he sat up. It was quite the laborious task, indeed. He swung his now awake legs over the bed and allowed his toes to touch the soft carpet below. The carpet had been put in recently, it was one of many bedroom improvements he'd made. His bedroom was pretty big - as far as common bedrooms go - it fit a rather large entertainment center at the foot of a queen sized bed, among other things. It was quite the little retreat - but all this is neither here nor there.

As he awoke the sensations of his surroundings set fire to his mind, getting him ready for a brand new day. It had been a particularly restful sleep and there was a zest for life in every breath he took... At least until he remembered. A wave of solemn anxiety washed over him, replacing the sun with shadow. The morning had caught up with him. For a moment it seemed as if today could have been the most beautiful day in the world. But not now. Not with the phone call he had to make. He told himself he'd call her today. He told her that too.

The reasons for the breakup are unimportant to this story. Neither is when it happened. Nobody really remembered any of these things anyway. It could have been a month ago, maybe a year. All that really mattered was that he still cared, his feelings still lingered. The breakup itself could have been worse, but it wasn't particularly clean either.

For a second he detached himself. He had seen breakups happen before, they happened to his friends. He'd seen them in movies, and read about them in books. At this very moment he wondered if this is what had gone through the minds of everyone else in those situations. There was little solace in knowing that even though he was alone, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Actually, to him it was really quite amazing anyone - let alone the world - could get on missing someone so much.

***

He paced about in his bedroom, back and forth in every flat space possible to walk on, wearing his footprints deep into the carpet. This was quickly becoming a very tiring exercise. He tossed the phone onto the bed, followed by himself shortly thereafter. He was lying on the side of the bed he usually slept on, staring at the phone, which was of course, on the side of the be she usually slept on. He could remember her, almost exactly, lying in that very spot. Her hair, long and flowing, draped delicately and gently around her. Her skin glowing beauty. He could even almost smell her. Hers was a smell so sweet that with every breath it filled every part of your being, always refreshing, always new. It had felt like his soul had been holding its breath for its entire life just waiting and was now, joyfully and completely, breathing for the first time. Her touch was something that no one could never forget. It was a softness that bled from skin to hair in perfect transition - that's the only way you could explain it. It would start at her cheeks, plush and warm, inviting the most gentle caresses. As your touch rolled across her face the smoothness would carry it to her forehead where, almost suddenly, the warmth would turn perfectly cool as you began to travel the long flowing locks of hair. They were like rivers of silk carrying her radiance outwards, seemingly to infinity. He closed his eyes and gently ran the back of his fingers across the pillow.

"Do you ever miss me?" The words barely escaped his lips. He gently opened his eyes and looked at the empty pillow beside him.

There were so many questions. I think that was what made it all so hard. The breakup created most of them, the time apart only created more. This must have been why he couldn't move on. He didn't like to do anything without at least knowing most of the answers - she hated that about him. She was never really one for giving a lot of straight answers, she created more questions than anything - he hated that about her. Their fragile balance had been on knifes edge for quite some time now, and the questions were still mounting. "Is there anything left at all?" "Did you ever really love me in the first place?" "Do you hate me?" But mostly he asked with battered frustration, "Why does it have to be so fucking hard?"

"Emotional nausea," he said out loud. "I need to get this out of my system." Maybe somehow hearing his own voice would convince him of it. This usually didn't work.

He'd been given plenty of advise. No one really told him to hang on for this long. In fact, most people said to just walk away and start anew. "There is nothing left to save," He acquiesced to these words long ago. That was his greatest defeat. The reassuring pats on the back, the sad sad songs, the bottoms of the all bottles and glasses, none of these things made the questions go away. That's why he kept persisting, at least, that's what I think.

As fond as his memories were, looking back, it wasn't hard to see why things weren't going terribly well. Especially when you consider their interactions now. Lately, there was more distance than ever between them. In his quest for answers he pushed hard. He figured if he pushed hard enough she'd have to push back - for better or for worse. Ultimately, this only made the space between them bigger. There was now more considerate coldness in her goodbyes. There was more quiet resentment in his. He didn't enjoy getting on this way, he just felt trapped into doing so.

"Your doing it again," He said letting out a big sigh.

He was doing it again, letting his emotions run away on him. Leaning his head back he chuckled, "Oh man, this is ridiculous. It's just a phone call." There he went again, trying to convince himself. No one really enjoys getting snapped back to reality, realizing that they were playing the fool. He disliked it rather intensely. So much so, that it was probably that which spurred his determination to get over it all, its definitely what spurred him to pick up the phone. All the times he'd been told to let go, all those cries to reason in his head, pulled like a million fingers trying to wrest the phone from his hand. He picked up the phone and dialed anyway. It's funny, really, how in this moment, in this way, he chose to be strong. Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring... She wasn't going to answer. If the phone had rung this many times he knew she wasn't going to pick up. Ring. There was no answer.

Letting out a sigh he hung up the phone. He laid back o his bed and with one last deep breath allowed every muscle in his body to relax. There was the sound of music. In all of the excitement and anxiety he failed to notice that the radio was on. The song playing went like this:

I dive in at the deep end
she became my best friend
I want to love you but I don't know if I can
I know something is broken and I'm trying to fix it
trying to repair it anyway I can

With a press of a remote he turned off the radio. "Very funny." He said looking up. Clearly a higher power thought this to be quite the joke. For the second time this morning he swung his legs over the bed allowing his toes to grace the carpet. The carpet really was quite nice. Collecting his things he headed out his door, and out of the house. There was still a cool breeze, and the sun was still shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I guess you could say it was a beautiful day.