Ever since I was little… I’ve always been afraid of the black bumble bees. They’re different from any bee I’ve ever seen. They come out of no where just to scare you, or so that’s what I’ve always been told to believe. My sister was stung once, and she cried herself to sleep. You never see one where you’d expect them to be, truth be told, I wish they would show up at the best possible time. There’s never a right time.

When I close my eyes and hear them buzzing. Is it real or just a memory? I wonder what they do at night… or do they sleep? Do they wonder what we go through when we can’t sleep? Or do they wonder why we walk outside hoping we won’t run into them in the day. I know some sting, and some don’t, but you can never tell just by looking at one.

You can hear them coming sometimes. The buzzing gets louder and then it is right in your face. By the time you realize it, you’re too scared to move. Too frightened to think. A fear of doing nothing wrong but you still might get stung.




It’s calm before the havoc. The moment where all your hairs turn in the same direction in excitement. You’re waiting for something to happen knowing full well that it’s you  you’re waiting for. The moment drags its feet in front of you and you’re clasped in between memories and fantasies of what could be. There’s no time left to create. As the seconds go by you grow angrier and more anxious. Why isn’t it happening?  “The moments passing, but courage has yet to hit me”, you think as they cheer wildly in your head. If there was ever a time for hope this was it. Did she look your way? Did they realize how amazing you truly are? Are you just dreaming or is this actually going to happen. Wake up! Fly, there’s no more time, the ground beneath you is crumbling. You can’t stay here any longer. You must go.



The room was clean when he gathered his thoughts. In front of him lay a bookshelf with various types of things he’s read over the years. Some on self-help, some on business and others just for fantasy. He sat there discontent. Years of memories gathered around him as one’s room should. It had pictures of his loved ones and trophies of triumphant times long gone. There was a bottle of Don Julio with two shot glasses he had collected in his travels through Asia. He sat there alone with the night breeze his only companion. Through his mind he thought, “What was I supposed to do? It seems like a memory I should have remembered. I got to work, I aim to go to the gym and then I use whatever time I have left to figure that out. I want to do something but I don’t know what it is! It’s the imminent feeling you get when you’re so close to something but you miss the mark. Did I not say enough? Did I say too much? What was it….” He gets up. “Maybe it was to meet my soulmate…but that sounds too easy…” he muttered. “I can’t die without knowing…and I can’t bear living if that’s not where I’m going to…to find the answer I’ve been looking for.” He lays in bed to uncover the sheets and rest his head. The night has passed and the sandman has come. Slowly he reaches his hand out from under the blanket to reach for the ceiling. He grasps it firmly unveiling a tortured fist filled with a temperament of sorrow. Suddenly he relaxes his hand and collapses it next to him. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll know…” he whispers as his dream blanket his conscious.

Twenty First Night.

Twenty First Night.

It was a cold September night. The lights were gleaming all around like stars waiting with stories to be told. From an aerial view the hustle of the city shouted with excitement. Cars were driving by gusting an ever familiar sound to the people on the streets. A distant police siren could be heard in the background. The ghetto bird was flying trying to find its target for the night.

“Where are we going?” she asked him. As he grasped firmly on the wheel, he picked up his cigarette to take a satisfying inhale. Quickly looking over at her he remains silent while he focused on the road. She fails to notice the glance. She focuses her attention on the radio as a song from Carlos Santana starts playing.

“I like this song” she whispered to him. I forgot how long it’s been since he came out with something new she thought. She looks out the tinted windows as the street signs flash by.  They slowly turn into an abandoned parking lot. The flickering street lamps that resonated with a low hum filled the air. He parks and smiles faintly at her. “You’re going to love this…” He said as he parked and removes the keys.

As she gets out he walks towards the trunk of the car. Suddenly realizing there’s something to be seen she skips over to him. As his hands reach out to the sky while opening the trunk there are two large plastic fabrics laid down. He picks them both up while walking towards the grass. She can see that they are not connected but each one is stringed together in a parachute like fashion.


“Ah…the winds perfect tonight!” He exclaimed excitedly. The wind ruffles his jacket violently.


“Check it out…you see these parachutes? They’re not really parachutes. You can fly with them. The gusts are strong enough to pull you up tonight. This parks lies in between two mountain hills that the wind focuses exactly at this point. You know what I mean?” He explained as he unfolded both items on the ground.


The wind was picking up at that exact moment to where she could only hear tidbits of the explanation. She smiles confused. He understands. He clasps one of the shoots with both arms by the handles. As the wind howls she shivers while her hair dances wildly in front of her.


Suddenly he starts sprinting with his hands clasped in the air. With each step he creates a wave within his clothes to resemble sounds waves. The shoot opens up. Bright purple with blotches of red flowers fills the fabric. He jumps and just as if a clamp in a machine, he is lifted gently to a feather like presence in the night sky. He can see it all as time slows down. The buildings collapse beneath him in the distant night. Suddenly the town’s night sky illuminates with passion. He can see a school yard in the distance. A hospital and a freeway with an insurmountable a
mount of cars waiting to get home in gridlock traffic. He is free. There are no wings but even a man can fly if he wishes so. He grins uncontrollably and begins to laugh loudly. The wind muffles the sound. As he turns his shoot around he can see a yellow fabric open up flyingin the now distant grassy field. She too… can fly.