Stories - FD Thornton

  My mood of the morning pretty much matches the scene outside. All foggy and damp with all the stillness you’d imagine, after a good horror movie the night before. When you get troubling news, it hits you a certain way. Even though you are not the one affected. I took a shower and put on my stoic face staring intently at the frown lines I developed over the years. They’re the same ones my dad had along with most of that side of my family. Dressed up like it’s springtime with my secondhand   Izod shirt and Wal-Jacked shorts and t-shirt. Looking like I want to belong to the yacht club on Jekyll, knowing I ain’t worth the money of a dockhand. But it’s my fantasy and I’m sticking to it. No different than some Biker and Redneck want-a-be’s I know. But we all got to stay in our lane, don’t we? Or at least that’s what we are told. Like the stoic that has to be strong when on the inside they’re about to fall apart. So while my skin is way too pale to be a yachtsman and my bank ac...

  Every morning I take a total of 18 different medications that I have been prescribed by six or seven different specialist. Some of those medications I take three times a day, others I take twice a day, while a few I take only once a day. If your keeping count, that’s a total of 31 pills a day. Most all of them are pretty essential for keeping me upright and operating fairly normal. I suppose I could look at all this tragically and feel sorry for myself. While I sometimes do throw myself a pity party, for the most part I take it all in stride. Seeing it as the price I pay for making piss poor decisions during my life. But I was the one that chose to do all that stupid shit. So it’s 31 pills and several doctor visits a year, plain and simple. But since tiptoeing to the edge of death, I realized I’d much rather live. So I’ve made most of the necessary changes I needed to keep my ass going. Spiritually speaking, most of my family and friends think I’m going straight to hell. And amon...

  Well here we are, trying to kick start yet another Middle Eastern War. All while we got our first Blood Moon of the year this week. No matter what side you are on in this conflict or rather or not you feel it’s justified over diplomacy. There is still innocent blood being shed on the ground. Yet I am more than certain Churches, Mosque, and Synagogues will be praying for their side to win. With a few scattered about ready for the “End Times”. I myself am just shaking my head that it has come to this, where innocent men, women, and children are sacrificed on the alter of old men drunk with power. Under the excuse of obeying God and/or distracting from the truth. Where is the God of Jesus, Mohammed, or The Toran in any of this? Blood has been shed and the majority of the people of the world are seemingly helpless to stop it. Revenge and paranoia are the words of the day. What has been started a thousand times before has been started again.   I don’t mean to ruin what is ...

Pinterest   On yet another shitty morning, the rain slowly pours outside. The pills are scattered in their usual 4 4 3 pattern across the pad, as I stir my morning witches brew to swallow them all. Scattered across my mind is a Madonna-like figure in all her glory baring herself to me. In a seamless dance of attention unlike most women I’ve known. But now that the pills are gone and there’s nothing but the rain and the visions in my head of her lingering attention. But beyond a symphony of poetic words, my mind drifts to nothingness. While the rest of the world blows its horns and screams down the highway. I remain ignorant to the noise, while still hearing it. Offering my mind up to relentless silence that rings in my ears. For the sake of the words, my testament stands. Unholy in its voice, unloved on the face of things, most deeper than I care to be know. For I am more than just the sum of my parts: passion, water, light, earth, and air. So today in this moment of revelation...

  After a surprisingly refreshing nap I hear the distant cry of an ambulance’s siren in the distance. Through the walls of the apartment, I hear the sounds of a cartoon playing in the living room. In the kitchen plans have already been made for tonight’s supper, while outside the slightest of breezes can be seen blowing through the first of springs leaves. As for me, I’m still in a sweater with my pull-on boat shoes, minus a boat. The walls of the study remain a lite tan color, with not a picture on the wall. With me sitting here recording in vivid detail the thoughts of a life, even my closest family don’t seem to care about. For my children find me inhospitable and grumpy, because of the cadence of my voice. Never thinking that’s just the way many of us were taught to speak to sound like a man. But more and more I feel like a man out of time. Separated by distance from all I ever really knew. Surrounded by a village of strangers, that never accepted me as one of their own. Leav...

  The sun is reflecting rather harshly off my monitor this morning. Leaving a faint ghostly reflection of myself pasted to the screen. It is a brisk cool morning hovering around 33° but still the sun is as bright as a spring morning. In this season of Ramadan and Lent, I suppose reflection and sacrifice are the name of the game. In my own mind thoughts of purging and reflection shine through in the many troubling dreams I’ve had over the past few weeks. Much like the dream I mentioned in my last writing “Dreams”, uncomfortable scenarios have been coming up in my mind. With individuals from my past and present I suppose teaching me lessons I need to learn. But such as it is with dreams for interpretation can be cloudy if anything at all. So I take each moment in stride and stay aware of my surroundings. Keeping in mind my present circumstance and the fears that often rise up. So in this season of reflection and giving, remember to always be grateful for what you have. Never abus...