An Ambiguous Tale

"The Feeling Of Nothing At All" By: Brendan Cadman  I can't escape this feeling, this feeling of nothing at all. And I'm falling in,  falling into the deep black abyss. And all I want, baby all I want is to feel you again. I drive down to the ocean side, up the pacific high going 95. Outstretched arm flying in the wind, past whipping cars, not raising a hair on my skin.   I step outside digging my toes in the sand, as the holes around my feet cave in. Wading into the dark blue, with the water up to my waist,  floating there patiently for you. But you're nowhere to be found, as I slowly start to drown.  I can't escape this feeling, this feeling of nothing at all. And I'm falling in,  falling into the deep black abyss. And all I want, baby all I want is to feel you again. Just as I lose my final breath, the liquid drains from around my lips. Slamming down the glass mug on the counter top, from the last stinging and inebriati

"He" By: Brendan Cadman He wants to let down the walls, he's built around his heart, but the ever watchful sentinel at the top of his post, can not make out what awaits him outside, between the malevolent barbarians and weary travelers, looking for a place that they can call home. He wants to be the person he sees, when he looks outside dark office windows, in the deep trance of wishful daydreams.  In the dim light of cozy pubs, he drowns his inhibitions in a flowing river, of burning whiskey and coldhearted ale,  to make him feel like the person he,  thinks that the other drunken patrons want him to be. But in the blinding light of the early morning, he can't remember the person he had become.  He's been burnt by the fire, of past mistakes and miscalculations, because he's only human just like you man. He covers the scars of fresh wounds, on his arms with long black sleeves, as he looks for ways to mend them.    He yearns to spea

"The Bystander" By: Brendan Cadman A bystander stood patiently at the corner, staring at the orange light telling him to wait, as he eagerly anticipated making his next move. Emerald green lit up in his eyes as he started to walk, until a thunderous crash and a staggering explosion, sent him down to the unforgiving pavement below. Shaking the cobwebs and fog out of his mind, he woke to the distinctive smell of fire and smoke, gazing in horror at a scene of carnage and twisted metal.  People ran to the site in futile attempts to help, while he remained frozen in a pompeian state.  Hours after the grizzly setting had been cleared,  he drowned his memories of the day  underneath an effervescent stream of icy ale. As the setting sun gave way to the rising moon, a women with hair of gold and rose red lips, sat down across the crowded and buzzing bar. For one brief but telling moment his eyes met hers, his faced flushed red and his heart crawled into his th

"Deadly Weapons" By: Brendan Cadman Laid as the bedrock of our foundation, inscribed on the certificate of our birth, through the black ink of feathered quills. Its power can tear through the strongest armor, equipped with scopes for accuracy from miles away, the targets locked in its sights have no way to escape. There are ones who use them for protection, to preserve everything they've worked for, shielding from the strays the ones they love.  But often they find their way into the hands of the wicked, the people who would use them for chaos and evil, to set the world on fire just to watch it burn. When treated and shown the respect they demand, they are harmless in the proper hands. Gifted with the ability to right what has been wronged, beseech the ruthless and tyrannical from their thrones, and inspire the change that affects and benefits us all. When used with ill intentions and contempt, they can oppress and silence more than hearts and minds.

"What Would I Say?" By: Brendan Cadman An aging man sat with his feet and his thoughts, buried in the warm summer sand.  He looked out far beyond the white caps, crashing down onto the soaked beach front.  As he watched the red sun slowly drown into the horizon, his past rose from the shallow watery grave in his heart.  Not all was trouble that crowded into in his mind, with the remaining light of the dwindling sun warming his face,  and illuminating his soul with remembrances of fond times. Though scatter clouds would pass overhead from time to time, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow of darker days.  It wasn't too long before a young child walked past, hand in hand with his father toward the water. When they reached the shore they began skipping rocks, splashing and rippling the calm evening sea.  The aging man couldn't help but notice the child, who wore a face that reminded him of his own long ago. He amusingly studied the two talk and

"Wherever You Go, There You Are"  By: Brendan Cadman Every sleepless night he tossed and turned underneath, sheets of fire while resting on rocks masquerading as pillows. As a child his heart and body were never in the same place, longing to be anywhere other than where he was. In the precious few hours he managed to slip away from the world, he could only manage one consistent and tantalizing fantasy. On the back of a broken spirit, wore the scabbed scars of dreams deferred. Wounds healed and closed by the passing hours, reopened and bleeding from memories of distant times.  His heart ached for what had come, and broke over what had gone.  Haunting ghosts standing on empty corners, and sitting in abandoned barstools beside him. He could not escape the reminders of what he lost, so all he knew to do was run. When the pad lock broke and the binding chains were set free, he made a daring break and finally attempted to getaway. With

"Where A Heart Should Be" By: Brendan Cadman Even after the frigid air had blown, and the icy waters finally began to thaw, the warmth of spring reborn eluded him, with his skin still cold to the touch.  He walked in silence amongst the living reminders of what he lost, as a ship lost at sea wanders on the water, with no lighthouse to guide it home through the fog. Even old shipmates could not recognize the remains of the battered and weathered hull.  Like a child desperately searches the bottom of a cereal box for a prize waiting within, the burning alcohol raced down his throat,  leaving only the remains of an empty and hollow promise.  In the unrelenting spotlight of the sun, he wore a smile that conveyed a picture of serenity.  It wasn't until the cover of the moonlit shadows, that he would allow his true essence to breakthrough the barrier surrounding his mind.  Old joys slowly disintegrated into unfamiliar disinterests, with the pace of streets