SEEDS OF MYSTERY

The New Guard

He felt an odd sensation come over him as he walked in. Something like swimming in the sea alone.

Welcome. My name is Gary Peirce. I am the head guard here, I’ll be showing you the ropes today.

He extends his arm towards Joseph.

How do you know I’m the new guard?

Shaking his hand.

By the simple fact that you’re not being escorted in, and I doubt you’re a visitor. Alright, let’s get to it.

Joseph follows behind as Gary leads him through the building informing him with what to do. Gary well points out how to work with the patients and how to deal with them if they just so happen to step out of line. While on his little tour Joseph peeps into the rooms of the patients all of who strike him as nail bitingly creepy.

All patients should be checked on every hour for a few moments to make sure that nothing is wrong. Some patients are required to take medication. During the time medication is being administered you may possibly be needed to hold a patient down. Are there any questions that you might have at this point?

Right then Joseph turns his attention to one of the patients. Watching him as he sleeps crouched on the floor in the corner of his room.

Yeah, what’s the deal with this guy? He doesn’t look like he should be here, he seems pretty harmless.

Gary, rubbing the back of his neck before crossing his arms.

He’s been here for just over a year now. And you’re right. He’s pretty well-behaved. Now, that is. The reason he’s here is because one night the guy went bonkers and whacked, well, killed his wife. Well, the courts found him unstable and sent him here while his son was sent to a foster home.

Really?!

Joseph continues to stare.

Yeah but he should be getting out of here at some point. He’s actually a good guy. Anyways, let’s continue. I still have a few things to show you.

ok

 

That’s Why, Mr. Roflived

After a month he was still stunned as if it happened yesterday. The question why echoed in his head bouncing back and forth against the barriers and walls as he does. The question always being filtered by the facts but, in the end, nothing comes out. it just gets looped inside the filter. Every day so far has been dipped in torture, sprinkled with pain, washed in a field of electrical volts. He’s not at all the man he used to be. He was once strong, proud and well-respected for his character. Now he tends to often shake uncontrollably and stare without blinking f or hours. Not much is said but he usually make some type of sound ranging from quiet whimpers to screeches of agony. And every now and then, a chuckle. His condition was similar to a grape half-dried in the sun. It’s funny how a question can be so crippling.

WHY?!

He had been screaming for over two hours. It was the same word, which riddled him so. Inside his head angels were choking devils as the devils clawed at their faces. Cats chased dogs, mice killed cats and the birds just watched. It was this chaos that filled one of the cages in his mind. He blinked and his cheeks rose. Something clicked. His screams morphed into laughter as he rejoiced in his own words.

I SET HER FREE! I SET HER FREE! I SET HER FREE! I SET HER FREE!…

Dream Of  The Savior

What was that?

She turned reaching over to her husband who laid undisturbed. She peeled away, pulling covers, poking her legs out from the edge of the bed where they dangled. Slowly creeping from the bedroom out the door and through the short hall. Inching down the staircase to investigate. Looking toward the window where the curtains whispered, she stopped for a second. she clutched herself tightly as she came forth steering towards the living room as her husband, in the comfort of their bed, tossed and turned to the dream he was experiencing.

First he saw the red curtains melt against the wall like wax down candles. Light turning to darkness, darkness turning to light. The floor beneath him turned from warm wood to cold dirt. The doors disappeared from their original positions and new ones appeared. Walking toward the first one it seemed to run away with any movement he made. There were two other doors. One was glowing with a bright light beaming from the frame. the door itself was steel and carried an odd echo of silence. Once through the door his clothes changed into a white gown, well-attired shoes, and clipboard in his hand. It was just one long hall with white walls and a glossy shine to it. He walked down only to feed his curiosity. As he travelled forward the echo got louder and soon enough it became a recognizable noise. Then it stopped and so did he. Turning to his side he could see a reflection of himself off a glass window. As he neared the window he could see a room full of newborn babies. All of them sleeping under gray blankets. Their arms tied to their sides and their heads in one end of handcuffs while the other end was clamped to the little cribs that they were in. He backed off, turned, and there was the door.  He returned to the original room. But upon his return the walls were set aflame and the floor was covered in snow. The third door was all white with a pasty look to it. Walking through it he felt much stronger and lively. All that was behind this door was a tall black staircase that looked as if it never ended. He had only shorts on. The floorboards squeaked with every step he took. The higher he got the bigger the steps became. Climbing over the last step he reached the top to find a portrait of his wife and him holding hands together but not as adults, as children. As he stared at the portrait they both began to age. He watched as he saw himself wrinkle and turn gray but he noticed that his wife had stopped aging. He turned and staircase wasn’t there anymore, just the door. He went through to the original room which was now completely black. The first door had disappeared.

Diana?

He heard her screaming for him. Springing forth from beneath the sheets he sputtered towards the dresser next to the wall, right of the bed. Frantically going through the drawers. He ran down the stairs, unleashing fury without a glimpse. He dropped the gun and ran over to his wife lifting her soul less body, streams formed down his cheeks as his jaw gaped. All he could hear were the cries of little Kyle upstairs in his crib.

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

 

HUMANITY

I am a poet

A killer of minds

A hopeless loser

I have done deeds

That I’m not proud of in the least

Yet I have no regrets

I have stabbed men

Tortured them

Left them lingering

Inches from death

Yet I have no regrets

I have stabbed myself

Beaten myself

Tried to kill myself

On numerous attempts

Yet I have no regrets

Janet stabbed me

Silvia tried to kill me

My ex never loved me

M… never gave me a chance

Yet I have no regrets

I lost many friends

I get lonely sometimes

I have trouble speaking on it

Yet I have no regrets

No

Fuck that!

I have regrets

I regret the disparity

I regret the uncertainty

The isolation

The pointless waiting

The wasted time

I have some regrets

But what do you expect

I’m just human after all

I’m human

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

 

 

FIRST NIGHTMARE

It Started when I was five

That’s when I had the first nightmare

I found myself in darkness

It felt like I was in another world

I walked towards a figure in the distance

When I finally got closer

I cloud see that it was a girl

She was wearing a white dress

And then I saw him

I wanted to protect her

But he took her

Put her in some kind of machine

And the machine crushed her

And I could hear her scream

And him laugh

And I dropped to my knees

Sobbing

Screaming “Why?”

He looked at me and said

“You can’t have her”

And I cried harder

I woke up crying

Not understanding what had happened

Not knowing why I felt sad

I was just a little boy

A little boy who saw things at night

And the nightmares kept coming

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

The Whispering Devils (nightmares)

They come for me at night

Eyes closed

Eyes closed

I enter the darkness

Eyes open

Can’t move

I can see everything around me

Eyes closed

There are sets of red glow everywhere

They’re getting closer

Which ones will show their faces this time

Eyes open

They’re here

One standing in the doorway

Another against the wall

Another sitting on the floor

Eyes closed

Back in the darkness

Trying to find light

Trying to find a dream

Trying to find my dream

Pressure on my chest

I can’t breathe

Something is on top of me

Eyes open

One’s choking me

Blood streams from his eyes

Trying to fight back

They whisper

“Come back to us”

“You can’t have her”

“Come back to us”

“You’ll never find her”

“Come back to us”

“Come home”

I try to scream

Try to wake up

Nothings coming out

Just low grunts

I manage to get an arm moving

I take his eye

Screeching

He releases

Drifts off

Eyes closed

I catch my breath

Eyes open

The other two are still there

The one on the floor

Small and pudgy

Childlike

Feasting on what looks like human flesh

The one by the wall

Tall and slender

Female like in figure

Inching towards me

Both staring

I rise

Move towards them

I Start screaming

Leave now! Let me fucking Sleep! Get out!

They slowly drift off

I feel weak

Turn around

I see my body

Shit! I have to get back in my body

I crawl back to it

Eyes closed

Eyes open

Eyes open

I check the time

It’s only been fifteen minutes

Since I laid down

It’s only been fifteen minutes

I just want to sleep

Neck hurts

Better wash this blood off

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

NEVERLAND (the lost dream)

The first time I was there I walked slowly

Across the pebble pathway

The wind carried a wonderful warm scent of vanilla

Raising my head to breathe it in

Gazing at the sky

The sky a deep orange behind lavender clouds

At the end of the pathway sits a house

Surrounded by vibrant plants and flowers

Dark tree with red, pink and purple leaves

Falling gracefully on cobalt grass

I still can’t adequately describe

The feeling I felt there

As I neared the house

I could see a woman

Sitting on the front porch swing

with a child in her lap, a girl

And A young boy standing next to her

And I heard him say

“Look Mommy, it’s Daddy”

And then I woke up

dumbfounded, asking myself

Was that my wife, kids

I confused but mostly angry

Because I didn’t want to wake up

I didn’t want to leave

The second time I was there I didn’t walk

I ran

It was all the same

The vanilla scent, the soft warm wind

The colors of the sky

All of it

When I got to the porch the swing was empty

I sat and felt the smooth finish of the wood

Then I heard laughter in the back yard

I ran around the house and they were there

this time the little girl saying “Daddy”

Then I woke up

Every time I went back I tried to get closer

trying to see their faces

But I never could

I looked forward to sleep just to go back

But

The last time I was there

It was cold

Everything was black and gray

The house was empty

And then I saw him in the yard

The horned being with bloody eyes

And I knew what it meant

And I haven’t been there since

Going there was and is the reason I look forward to sleep

But I don’t get to sleep anymore

And I want to go home!

Because it’s more than just a dream

It’s MY DREAM!

And I want my dream back

It’s where I wanted to be

It’s was my Neverland

But the pirates of the night took it away from me

And I haven’t seen it again

All I have left are the nightmares

And the devils

The devils come for me every night

EVERY NIGHT

BY OSCAR TORRS LEON

AND I PRAY

I love you Lord, and I pray

Surprised I can still breathe another day

I know I’ve lived a crazy thuggish life

And I trying to get away

I’m trying Lord, that’s what I have to say

Lord there have been many times I’ve come to you

And Lord I know you sigh for the things I’ve done and do

I apologize, forgive me for my mistakes

I know I’ve hurt others and you

By the shaking of my faith

I’m not trying to take Lord

I’m trying to give

I’m not trying to die Lord

I’m trying to live

I’m not trying to kill

I’m trying to protect

I’m not trying to neglect

I’m trying to respect

I’m not trying to hate

I’m trying to love

But it hurts so much

When I don’t feel it from above

I don’t know how many years I have left

Before what comes next

But I hope you accept me

In the hour of my death

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

These Hands

These hands

These hands are but tools

A means to an end

For others

At times they are weapons

Better know for destruction

And the evil deeds they’ve taken part in

But

These hands can do other things

These hands can create

Craft and build

These hands can guide and assist

Give care and protect

Connect through touch and gesture

For within these hands

There is love

To be given

But, not so much received

For there is more work to be done

And these hands

Must always be ready

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON