Erik D'Souza

She jumped.

She was here just a moment ago, looking beautiful and alive.

He squinted as he forced himself to look over the edge of the eighteen story building. She didn’t look beautiful anymore.

Their relationship up until now had been a fairy tale. Talented Hollywood screenplay writers get paid very handsomely to dream up stories as romantic as theirs. Admittedly she was always a little messed up, like a bird with a broken-wing, but that just made him love her more. He wanted to fix her.

He would give anything to kiss her again; to hold her once more. He peered over again and felt sick. No more looking over the edge, it made him queasy.

Her last words to him where delivered with the upmost clarity, “If you want to love me forever, you’ll have to follow me anywhere.”

He was alone now. Would he be alone for an eternity, or would he be with her?

Falling wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He saw people’s faces, just as they realized what he’d done. By the time he reached the ninth floor he was content with all and at ease. As he flew by the third floor, he heard her say, “What took you so long?”

 

Student: this piece is brown and has no marble. The livestock was probably caged and received very little exercise. It most likely ate nothing but junk. It would be a select grade at best.
Teacher: Very good analysis. I wouldn’t feed this meat to my dog. Now how would you rate the second cut?
Student: Much better. See how red and fresh it is. It’s perfectly marbled. I’d say this person regularly worked out and was a vegetarian.
Teacher: Excellent perception, Ivanka. Remember children, here at the Institute of Fine Dining it is essential that our meat is of the highest quality. When consuming the poor, we must ensure that they were properly treated prior to slaughter. A healthy diet and a lifestyle consisting of rigorous physical training are crucial for the superiority of the final end product. Remember everything put into them, we get out in fold.

“Okay, I’ll do it?” I agreed because I was 13 and she was pretty.

“I was just kidding, please get down from there.”

“You shouldn’t have dared me if you didn’t want me to do it.” Fool-hearted logic from a young boy feeling his first real surge of testosterone.

“You’ll trip and die,” she pleaded.

Her red hair swayed with the wind and I felt alive for the first time in my young life.

So I did it.

And she was wrong. I didn’t die and my hospital stay was rather pleasant. They spoon fed me Jello every day.

Sometimes I run my fingers over the lines of my scars as I watch my two young sons fall asleep.

I wonder what they’ll do one day for love and I pray that they’ll survive it.

(as it twirls itself into an artless rhyme)

A sideways smile
eased my thoughts
like a hand upon my back
or a light summer rain.

I voted for life
and freedom
and a tiny house
free of strife
and full of children at play.

We all voted for the same thing.

Campaign promises grew into pipelines,
Mother Nature’s amber alert
drowned out by the greed of the whole;
yet the prosperity of so very few.

Still, it’s warm in the month of May,
and no one complains about a sunny day.
Still, the flowers bloom
and the bees speed upon their way.
For these are the years before Nero will play.

I looked into your mossy eyes and glimpsed an isolated future.

 So I scurried home and drank until my belly ached.I dreamt of a perfect curves paired with a perfect love.I wanted so much more, but had far less. (Old magazines and a slow internet connection)

 So I retreated back to you, tail between my legs and accepted the facts: we are solitary creatures and the future is over-rated.

I had a mole that grew large and became unsightly. It was on my belly (which has also been growing and becoming more unsightly). Two distinct, black dots formed on its head and I grew concerned. My doctor referred me a dermatologist. I waited 2 months to see her, and yet within 10 seconds of inspecting my blemish she advised, “Moles often change; it’s nothing to worry about.”

My father-in-law once had a mole. The dermatologist told him not to worry about it. He’s dead now. Skin cancer. So when this doctor told me not to worry, I worried.

I typed into Google, “Can I remove a mole myself.” It advised to use pineapples or apple cider. Sometimes the internet is full of idiots. Other people said that you can’t just cut it off, because it’s too painful and has a deep root. Sounded like challenge to me.

Do you know what really hurts? Cancer.

So I took a pair of scissors, and sterilised the blades by dipping them in rum. I took a solid swig, to strengthen my resolve. With my left hand I pinched the portion around my mole, as to elevate it and extract a large chunk. Cut it all off– just make it quick. Cancer ain’t going to get me.

My right hand was steady and with three quick snips it was done. I stood before the mirror, a surgeon admiring his handiwork. I cauterized the wound with rum and applied a band aid.

It healed well – but the mole grew back. But it is much smaller now and lighter in tone. No longer are there two black dots staring back at me.

I returned to Google and I re-typed, “Can I remove a mole myself.” I scrolled to the bottom of the comments and wrote, “Stop being a wimp. I cut of my mole and I’m cancer free. Are you?”

 

Some people have said that I’m too strict with my boys, they say that I am a Tiger Dad. I inform them that the male tiger leaves the female after mating and has no part in the upbringing of their cubs.