This Is Controversial (Sort Of)

I think it was Elizabeth’s fault. She’s still my neighbor, but I don’t talk to her anymore. I was around eight years old, and she was two years younger than me. We used to play with our barbies almost everyday. I envied her barbies’ clothes, but I despised her for having what I wanted the most: a Ken.

We were playing, and her plastic couple got married. Ken was kissing Barbie in ways I’d never seen before. She moved Ken’s body against Barbie’s as if they were having a seizure. Their perfect plastic bodies made noises every time she smacked them together. Well, maybe their bodies were not so perfect, since Barbie’s feet were all chewed up (and almost destroyed). But chewed feet are not important. This is not about that fetish. The important part of the story is that the dolls were making out.

After that day, I really wanted a Ken. Before, I didn’t know how to play with them. I wasn’t sure if I was going to play with him like Elizabeth did because it was strange (and a little nasty). I wasn’t sure why I wanted one, or if I wanted one anymore, but I told my dad anyways.

He said no.

I don’t remember why he said no, but one day I almost had one. He grabbed one of my barbies (the one who was wearing a Hawaiian bikini), he took a pair of scissors, and later I had a brand new Barbie. She was bald, and ugly. My dad said she was my new Ken. I felt confused. I wasn’t satisfied. He gave her to me, and asked me if I was happy. I don’t think I was.

I guess you could say I had a Ken. But none of my barbies wanted to have a bald boyfriend. I didn’t either. I tried to dress her up as manly as possible, but I only had cute pink outfits, and boys never wore pink back then.

My barbies were lesbians.

Most of my ex-boyfriends are bald.

I think it’s Elizabeth’s fault.

Yes, off with her head.

Off with my barbies’ heads too.

It was dark the first time

(because) it was (a bit) forced.

I wasn’t sure (after all those years) I wanted a Ken anymore.

Plastic flesh

made me think about latex.

I wasn’t sure about smacking (or spanking).

I wasn’t sure about it

but I was horny. Being horny means yes (I think).

It was dark,

but not too dark because I could still see him grabbing,

touching, pushing, pulling

the yellow sheets

all over the bed,

and later putting it on (because I told him I didn’t want to end up like my friend Jessica, the pregnant one),

but still he left (a month later).

After I discovered how he played, I realized he wasn’t like my bald Ken. He was a bit chubby, but he didn’t have man boobs, and, unlike my plastic buddy, he wasn’t worth all the drama.

I wasn’t like my Barbie either.

She never whined about being undressed (I did).

She wasn't afraid because she couldn't get pregnant (I could).
She liked it (I wasn't sure).
I wasn’t sure because I didn’t want him to see me. I was embarrassed because:

1. I was sexually repressed.

2. My boobs were not big enough to make me proud.

3. I needed a wax.

The only thing I have in common with Barbie is vanity.

She’s mute, and narcissistic. I’m vain, but I complain.

Barbie didn’t have any excuses because she liked it because she’s a whore. Anyone can undress her. Anywhere. As many times as you like.

I was raped by a chubby version of Ken.

I wish I could use another word because I hate the word rape. That word creates conflict. The idea of it hurts my decency, my integrity, my fictitious virginity. Whenever I hear the word rape, I imagine a dark alley, and a barbaric man pulling a girl's hair. I imagine her pushing him away. Crying. Kicking. Screaming. I want her to win.

I wasn't crying, but I was unsure, and afraid. I think I told him NO. He did not listen, but in the end I didn't listen to myself because I allowed him to do it. I’m guilty, and now it doesn't matter. Sex is great, but stupid. Now it isn't special. It's just another activity. It’s just about defective bodies with damaged minds making noises every time they’re smacked together.
Maybe it was rape. I'm not sure if it was because in the end (I think) he convinced me. I wanted sexual liberation. Maybe it was liberating. I don’t know, and I can't remember. I edited that memory, and repressed the rest along with many other others.

-by Ana Carrete.

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Every Day’s Just Like Tomorrow

Today it’s Tuesday but it feels like Wednesday, each day I go through my normal routine. My alarm goes off, 22 minutes later I literally roll out of bed, land on the floor next to my bed. After the initial fall I’m shocked to awareness realizing I’m going to be late and must get up and get going off to school. I eat; I dress, and slink off to my vehicle to start my long tiresome day. I must get to school at 8am to speak with my professor, it’s just not possible it’s already 8:37am by the time I get to school she will already have left to go to teach her class. I’m here 8:48am she’s gone, so left with no other source for help I sit and slip deep into thought, not know what the rest of my day will hold. I do have that odd feeling like tomorrow will be the same as today. Time passes now I have computer class; it doesn’t matter if I’m late ‘cause I get the material. So I head over to the lunch area to get a sandwich but then I realize I don’t have any money, I could always bum quarters off people until I have enough for some food, but no I don’t need to eat, starving will work just fine for me. I’ve been starved in my life before not really food wise but, friend-wise, soul-wise, smart-wise, love-wise actually my heart’s been shattered due to a lost love, well a rejected love, it just couldn’t work between her and I. Her disease would cause our relationship to rise and fall day to day her moods don’t stay in check they flare-up. Which has caused my heart to be torn in two on those days when she really loves me only to change to those days were she hates me, screams at the top of her lungs and tells me what a mistake it was for her to get involved with me. I loved her so much, I’d die for her, but I was dying each day I was with her. It was so hard for me to leave when I did, like I said I loved her with the full extent of my being. But her disease was just viciously tearing me up inside, not physically, but emotionally it was so bad. But my love was so strong, I thought that the four year bond we had in high school was enough to keep us together, when the pain is right there and there’s no escaping it, it proves that not even a 7 year bond could withstand that abuse let alone 4 years. A little part of me died that day I painstakingly cut myself off from her, but it had to be done, that saying, ‘it’s better to have loved and lost then to have ever loved at all’ is false at least it is in my eyes. The pain brought on after the break up for me was just unbearable, I would have faired better if I hadn’t of been born, then to deal with being separated from the love of my life. My days are now tiresome without meaning, these days I just linger though life, she is constantly on my mind, but in her mind I don’t know if she has even thought about me. My days continue on, but it seems like every other day after today will just be the same as today the future is told to me, the future holds the absence of my love, we both had disabilities but her’s was just to much for me to bare. So I continue on down this road that doesn’t cease, that just leads me further away from her, she’s far behind but I’m still here but all hope has died away from me…
…Every Day’s Just Like Tomorrow.
-R.M.G.

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Fallen Angel 8/15/2006

I once was an angel high up in heaven,

I was a guardian angel,

Magnificent blue wings,

Flowing radiant hair,

Powerful arms,

My person was a beautiful crimson creation,

Pale white skin,

Eyes blue as the ocean’s vastness,

A figure of earthly perfection,

She was my conduit to protect,

I aided her in her ventures,

She never saw me or thanked GOD for my intercedance when I helped her,

Her beauty was unbearable; it got to the point were I desired her for my self,

I had to reveal myself to put aside my burning for her,

This is a dangerous path for me,

If I give into earthly desire I will be cast out of heaven; wings clipped and human,

She is worth the risk,

I make myself seen to her,

I reach for her; for a moment she sees me in my finest,

My exuberance exposed to her,

A light from above shines down engulfing me,

Fire scorches my back; my wings are gone,

The light subsides; she is there before me,

I reach for her again; but this time she pulls back from this crumpled heap in front of her,

No longer magnificent my body’s a ruined mess,

My beautiful crimson conduit is gone; she was my beast of burden,

Her beauty consumed me, made me give in to desire and evidently brought upon my

Demise,

I gave up my immortality and closeness to GOD for earthly desire,

Now I suffer the fate brought upon me by my hands,

In this world no one wants to know me or even cares,

I am not even fit to protect myself,

I am gawked at by passerbys day after day I can not move,

Days turn to weeks and weeks to months,

Months to years and years to decades,

The world knows me as, “the heap of mess that does not move yet lives”,

After centuries the ground beneath absorbs me,

Down to the deep I do travel to be ensnared by satan and his demons,

Stuck in a cage slowly being lowered into the molten lava below,

I see a movement to my left…no it can’t be my crimson conduit is before me,

She is down here because I was not there to guide her,

She suffers due to my down fall,

Lava all around me; my head about to go under but able to pray, “sorry father”.


By Robert Morfin Gonzalez

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Space Short Story

Through space I travel, my ship’s long range sensors pick-up the faint echo of a distress beacon. I set my ship on an intercept course to the distance star cluster from where the signal appears to be coming from. A Direnean-5 code named Kilamenjaro is what I command, full crew 24: 3 engineer, a doctor, 3 cooks, 7 members of the Elite Krun Hunters Attack Force (E.K.H.A.F.), 3 Special Analytical Scientists (S.A.S.), 2 Alien Technology Technicians and 5 Bridge Command Officers; Commanding Officer: Captain Alex Watt, Corporal Roger Rogan 2nd in command, Lt. Haruk Kavi Ship Navigations, Lt. Ontu Unri Weapons Control, Lt. Shamee Warjv Life Support Systems and Communications Controller.

From the One World United Order of Earth, Captain Watt’s Direnean-5 and crew have been sent on a patrol and alien technology salvage mission on the outer rim of the Sontaru Galaxy 3.4 light years from Earth.

“Commander I’m picking up audio now, I think we’re within range to pick-up the full distress call,” said Lt. Warjv.

“…zzzz…pop…bzzskit…help s.o.s.…to any ships…zzz…this is Corporal Calvin Hidh, of Zycon Mining in the U-Crum Star Cluster, we are under attack by unknown forces requesting assistant,…zzbzkit. I along with four others are held up in the surgical bay attempting to travel through the air ducts to reach the launch bay. Several core doors have been breached, fail safes have set in, trapping those within living quarters...thump, bang, thump, boom, sheek…“move, move they’re breaking through everyone through the air duct hurry, they’re almost upon us,…boom, boom, sht…zzbk…pop…zskts… No they’ve broken through, it can’t be there’s no one there!?” ‘Don’t be fooled you will not see death, we will not give you the privy of seeing your demise.’…SNAP…zzbst….END TRANSSMISSION (TIME ELAPSE 22 MINUTES).

“Lt. Kavi, full speed ahead,” said the commander, “E.K.H.A.F. gear up E.T.A. to hostile territory in two hours, pack your infra-red.”


2 hours 13 minutes elapse

Mission Log: Direnean-5 shuttle docked 5 minutes ago at Zycon Launch Bay. The air within the launch terminal smells old and rancid, but does have a hint of life about it; life signs read out of immediate area come up negative though. Descending a ladder into a circular room, my feet step upon a slippery floor all around blood and torn bodies. I am Krugan Runtar, Squad Leader of E.K.H.A.F.
By Robert M. Gonzalez

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Be Weary started: 10/2/2004 ended 9/19/2006

Be weary of,
The people,
That will come,
To take you away,
When I am not there,
When I die you’ll be alone,
And they will come for you.

You are the payment for the crimes I committed against them,
When I was there with you,
They couldn’t make a move,
But now that I no longer exist they will come for you,
The only thing that they don’t know,
Is that you are just the husk to the bomb concealed in your womb,
Your data processor holds the where a bouts of your true self who knows my true identity.

The she of whom you were made in her spitting image,
There is a code I insert into you every 12 hours emitted by kissing your neck,
Undressing you; pressing between your breasts until there is a pop and your chest unfolds to reveal your core system were I place my ear so your photonic eye within your chest can view the code numbers engraved into my ear drum.

Without my doing this every 12 hours,
Your self destruct will begin a 15 minute count down to critical mass implosion that will unleash a radiation bubble that will scramble brain waves as well as molecular atoms within a 3 mile radius.

This, set in place to protect your true self as well as my true identity.

When I die, you die, as do others.

-R.M.G.

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Miscellaneous writings

When I was out for a walk one day I got the strong sensation that something was amiss. I could feel something just over my shoulder, at first I thought it was just the breeze blowing through this odd cemetery but no, it was a hand, the hand of the beast come to devour my sour and bring me to eternal damnation. I opened my eyes and saw a bright light to my amazement I was merely dreaming but the sensation was so strong. I thought to myself how and better yet why would I dream of such things in a world that doesn't seem to stop or stand to realize the happenings all around.

I stand in a pit, surrounded by pools of blood and body fragmentations. A small bloody child clings to my right leg shivering. And pointing foward while mumbling...ba da fama sha; this language I do not believe it to be a dialect of any kind resonating on the Earth but maybe with in it. I looked in the direction the child was pointing all I saw was the gleaming edge of something silver careening towards me, I feel the small bloody child bare its nails into my leg, and then felt no more. My head now on the floor, hair
drenched in blood, with one eye open I witness the child feasting on my heart...
-R.M.G.

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Who Is To Say 12/9/2005

I sit here in a room,
Filled with 18 empty desks,
Just one other sits afar from me,
White-wash walls all around,
Closing in,
Intimidating the ones within,
A few papers, pencils and a calculator in front of me,
The papers have squiggles on them,
And they are to determine my future,
If I pass I may go on,
If I don’t I will die,
Who is to decide who sinks or swims?
Why do we put so much emphasizes on paperwork,
When there is so much more to life,
Then just school, school, school,
I take this test because I’m suppose to in order to pass this class,
This math is not going to help me in life,
It is stupid,
It is crazy,
If I am to be a rocket scientist,
Or the next Albert Einstein then I need this,
But I plan to live life,
Not frustrate myself and die young,
Who is to say, “I will die, I will sink, if this test, I do not pass,”
I spit on them and say,
Good day.

-R.M.G.

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Be Weary started: 10/2/2004 ended 9/19/2006

Be weary of,
The people,
That will come,
To take you away,
When I am not there,
When I die you’ll be alone,
And they will come for you.

You are the payment for the crimes I committed against them,
When I was there with you,
They couldn’t make a move,
But now that I no longer exist they will come for you,
The only thing that they don’t know,
Is that you are just the husk to the bomb concealed in your womb,
Your data processor holds the where a bouts of your true self who knows my true identity.

The she of whom you were made in her spitting image,
There is a code I insert into you every 12 hours emitted by kissing your neck,
Undressing you; pressing between your breasts until there is a pop and your chest unfolds to reveal your core system were I place my ear so your photonic eye within your chest can view the code numbers engraved into my ear drum.

Without my doing this every 12 hours,
Your self destruct will begin a 15 minute count down to critical mass implosion that will unleash a radiation bubble that will scramble brain waves as well as molecular atoms within a 3 mile radius.

This, set in place to protect your true self as well as my true identity.

When I die, you die, as do others.

-R.M.G.

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Quote of the Day

"They may say, those were the days....,
But in a way,
You know for us these are the days,
Yes, for us these are the days"

-Jane's Addiction

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S coo leh

Is this a dream?
do we really know where we are going?
Of course! The meat grinder, right!

School was the place I felt the most confused. We were all bunch together in wooden rooms with teachers that had more problems that we could ever imagine.

What is this whole system, does it make sense?
No, but it works.

It kept our bodies from strolling off into parks and pizza places. It kept our parents Happy and the Principal with a job.

During silent reading time I would open my adventure book and pretend to read for one hour, what a waste. I would turn the page once in a while and make expressions to the bundle of words.

I loved field trips. In the museums I would stroll off by myself because the other kids were too boring and stupid to appreciate anything. I would wonder how all those things had been collected and if they were real or not. The world opened, it was mine to embrace.

I punch my friend in the face once before school started and the funny thing is that I don't remember why. He cried and ran to the bathroom, I stood there proud, while the others watched.

I don't remember the names of my best friends thanks to my useless memory or maybe I didn't have best friends. I do remember Arkbar. I was made fun of because he was my friend. He was the joke of the school, when I met him in lunch I did not know that, I liked him. I although he had a thick indian accent and I had a mexican one we communicated well. We played basketball together and when we played in teams he was always on mine even though he sucked at it. We always one, my competitor spirit never let us down.

The town was small and full of woods. They all knew I was Poor but I didn't give a shit! I wish I could go back for a minute and feel the strange feeling of school again.

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Quote of the Day

"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!The world forgetting, by the world forgot.Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d."

-Alexander Pope- Eloisa To Abelard

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Bones Reek

Clear divisions is what we are, indeed! If I greet you please greet back and if I tell you to go to hell please smile.
I walk the streets in my strange walk, my toes are the only ones that touch the ground.
"Hey, how's it going" I greet an older man.
Man in the street, real man, regcognize each other without knowing who the other is. It is within our nature to stay together. The ones who are scared won't greet each other, they walk without lifting their faces. They face the ground and if they do catch a glimpse of the one in front they shove their face down quickly again.
I walk the streets in my disporportion walk feeling free from myself. I waste my time because I can, I amuse myself within the world bcause I care. I greet the greetable because they care, it doesn't matter to me who they are, they are my type. Spirit is all we reallly need. It can be of love, hate, joy, excitment, dispise or feeling fucked because Eventually all spirit becomes one big great ball of jelly for us to enjoy.
I walk the streets in my lonely ways, on the other side there's a stranger that yells at me "Fuck you",
"Fuck you too" I say back and we both smile.
Drive my way home, greet the little ones, play with them, feel their love and innocence then go to sleep.

I really Fucking love the U.S.A (Copywright 2008)

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All By Myself

Just sittin' here totally cut off,

From the world around me,

Sectioned off in a tiny room,

Many places to go,

Many places to be,

Many miles to drive,

But stuck in one place,

Alone and cut off is what I am,

Here by myself,All by myself,

Always by myself,

Always in pain because I'm,

All alone.

Robert Gonzalez

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Here is my first chapter: Henkou

Insurrection & Truth:

Many of the men in the meeting area were nervous and some fearful of what both men were proposing. It was just a surprise it was being said. Although the men were samurai of high nobility this did not make things any easier. The men addressing the peasants were: Yamagata Aritomo and Takasugi Shinsaku. The men were considering their words seriously, but also did not want to take them lightly. Isao Katsu was like many of the men during the meeting. He was a peasant, a farmer trying to make a meager living and have a family one day. He could understand why the others were apprehensive that these senior commander’s of the *Kiheitai would ask simple peasants to fight in their army. The peasants were just ordinary men not of noble blood to fight.

There was another with the troupe commanders, one that didn’t look like a samurai, but a commoner like him. Isao over heard Yamagata call him Shinku. Isao thought he was a body guard or some sort for Yamagata. When Isao asked his friend Hisoka who the mysterious man was, a shiver ran down his spine when Hisoka told him.

“The other men say Shinku is an assassin, but not just any sort of assassin. They say he’s a *Hitokiri. It’s been said he’s killed dozens, perhaps hundreds of men. He shows no remorse for it. The other’s think that’s why the Kiheitai brought him here, to scare us into joining them because they need numbers so badly.”


Hisoka was extremely worried about why the Kiheitai brought a would-be assassin in there mists. Hisoka didn’t want to think the worst, but seeing Shinku didn’t make that scenario go away. Isao himself wondered what would happen as well, but for now the more immediate problem of joining the ranks of the Kiheitai was his main concern. Isao spoke loudly to make sure that his questions were widely heard.

“Yamagata-San, I find it highly unlikely, that samurai would find alongside merchants, artists, or even plain simple peasants, we do not like the barbarians from the west, anymore than you or Takasugi-San, but how can you be sure that the samurai will accept us even gradually?”


Yamagata knew that it would not be easy recruiting peasants considering how much of a low opinion many in Japan considered the peasant class especially samurai in his own tier. He was not surprised of the skepticism in the room right now. Even he was raised to believe that peasants were just born to serve him and the rest of the samurai, but if Japan was going to be saved the old ways needed to be restructured or abolished. His task was going to be difficult. To attempt to take down the social barriers put up by the Tokugawa after the *Sengoku period was a feat he didn’t dream of taking down until now. It was maintained for two-hundred and fifty year’s, but that history of his nation was soon to be closed. If Japan was going to survive great changes were needed. Yamagata understood this and Isao’s concerns all too well and hoped he could alleviate those concerns as best he could.


“I understand your concern’s Isao-San. However, you must understand that not only are samurai joining our army, but also many like yourself. Such as men born as peasants, other’s as merchants, artists, and even poets. Do not be discouraged, because of my class or by Takasugi-San’s. The future of Japan is at stake and class can no longer be a factor. We all knew that when the black ship’s came so many years’s ago. Our world was going to change forever. Our nation was not ready for the outside world. Now, because of Tokugawa’s ignorance we are paying dearly with barbarian foreigners in our lands. The barbarians defile the very land that many of us worked so hard to govern, protect and cultivate. If we are to go against the foreign invaders we must first strike at the *Tokugawas first!”


The men in the meeting went into an uproar about what Yamagata said. Some were shouting that Yamagata sought the impossible while others were pronouncing that Yamagata should not say foolish thing’s as there were Tokugawa spies everywhere. Isao was horrified to see that barbarians were treating Japan as if it was there own. He had heard stories about China. Isao heard how it turned from a powerful nation to being cut up of spheres of influences for Europe. It disgusted him. Then he heard one voice over the chorus of noise. It was so thunderous that every person in the room fell silent. It was none other than Takasugi.


“The Tokugawa’s are not invincible! The blackship’s that came with Perry, the barbarian’s that run afoul in Japan are proof of that! The Tokugawa’s did nothing when Perry came; they did nothing when the barbarian’s came! If we let the Tokugawa’s continue to rule, our nation, our value’s and everything that we are will be destroyed. I have told many people about my days in China. I was saddened by what I saw, a great nation for hundreds of years. It is now nothing more than a colony for Europe. Yamagata-San and I will not allow this to happen, I swear to you all that Japan will not be colonized by the American’s ,the British ,the French or any other power, the time is now to do away with tradition and make new ways. Ways that will empower us and enrich us so that Japan will never have to fear being overtaken by another nation again. We must change Japan, before we expel the foreigner’s.”


Some of the peasants were still weary that the Tokugawa would hunt them down and kill them, but others were moved by Takasugi’s speech and expressed their support. Yamagata pronounced that it was getting late and they would re-convene tomorrow morning at nine o’clock as everyone would be well rested by then. As people were leaving the meeting, Isao stayed. He did not know what to do at this point. Was he to join and help all of Japan become a powerful nation again or would he continue working in the fields? He knew that if he continued working in the fields, nothing would be done and eventually all he worked for would eventually be for nothing since it would most likely be taken by foreign land developers or worse. As he was deciding what to do Yamagata approached him with a curious look about him.


“Isao-San have you decided to join us or not. It is of course your decision, but we must have an answer since Takasugi-San and I will be starting the meeting again tomorrow morning.”Isao was perplexed, but knew he had to give Yamagata something. He felt he deserved as much at least.“I do not know what to do Yamagata-San if I stay I will not accomplish anything, but if I go will I accomplish anymore than I would if I stayed? I do not have an answer for myself much less you.”Isao was confused on the look on Yamagata-San’s face it was of amusement.“Isao-San I understand what you’re feeling, I felt similar apprehensions when I first began plans to oust the Tokugawa’s, I cannot turn back, but you, you do not have to be a foot soldier in the front lines if you wish. Perhaps you need to see a different perspective of the war besides that of Kiheitai and the Tokugawa’s.”


Then out of the shadow’s Shinku appeared. At first Isao didn’t move and looked startled, but he quickly composed himself. Yamagata was not shaken, though Isao was wondering if Yamagata-San planned all this. Yamagata introduced Isao formally to Shinku.“Isao-San I believe you already know of Shinku. Shinku as you probably may have guessed is not his real name. His real name is Kioshi Subeta. His role in the Kiheitai is not important, but what is important is that he will show you another side to this war if you’re willing to see it that is.Yamagata look turned from amusement to coldness. He was deadly serious about this. Isao knew that. Isao also knew that whether he wanted to be in this war or not, he still needed to go with Kioshi. He needed to see it with his own eyes of what the future may or may not entail.


“Yamagata-San, Kioshi-San I accept. I want to see this third-side you speak. The times that will come that may or may not bring a future to Japan. But I only ask that I give you my answer then and not before”Yamagata nodded and said his goodbyes to Isao-San. Soon after Yamagata left, Kioshi-San looked at Isao-San and said something that felt like a cold chill.“Now you will see how Japan’s future will be shaped, not by men but by blood.”


*Kiheitai: Calvary*Hitokiri: Man-Slayer*Sengoku: Warring States*Tokugawa: Governing body of Japan


Isao was following Kioshi for almost four perhaps even five hours until Kioshi led them to Dekai forest. The foliage was not dynamic, but it did offer them protection. There was a reason why it was called Dekai forest. The trees were so large it could blot out the sun; fortunately it was during nightfall away from prying eyes. Isao had heard stories that this forest was a place for the poor and misfortunate, and sometimes the dead. Isao followed Kioshi for almost another hour until they reached an area deep inside the forest. Kisohi stopped and turned himself around straight toward Isao and bluntly asked him several questions which put Kioshi off guard.


“Why do you want to fight in this war? Why do you personally wish to fight? Do you have a personal stake in this war? Do you have altruistic values? You should not fight a war if you do not have a reason too.”


Isao was confused he did not know what to say or how to begin to answer. These questions were important for sure, but what if he had no reason. Isao had no aspirations for glory or fame. That was not his way. It had seemed a whole new opportunity opened up for him. An opportunity to fight for the Emperor, but that was not a true reason to fight he mused. He would not be fighting for me he knew. He was but a simple peasant, a farmer. A person who for the better part of his life let the whole social tier of his people is accepted. Many people including him came to view the Samurai as such. The warrior nobility, just second to the Shogun and the Emperor, but now this was not true anymore. Times have changed and war would soon be upon them. Why would he fight? He couldn’t answer Kisohi since he did not know himself. Isao looked at Kioshi and mused over what to say. As Isao, started to speak Kioshi interrupted him and spoke first. Isao stared blankly at him.


“You don’t know do you? Did you think I would not know that? Many people who fight in wars do not know. But the most simplistic aspect that all people have when they fight is one thing: survival.”Isao was wondering where he was going with this line of thought since he didn’t believe Kioshi was a man of words, but obviously there was more to this man than he perceived. Then sometimes strange happened Kioshi was smiling.


“Just because I do not speak much does not mean I cannot speak at all. I can speak, but I reserve that in the appropriate times. Such as now, since it is important I speak to you about this upcoming war. Which side will you be on? What Ideals will you fight for? Will you fight for blood, to kill, to relish it or to bring a new era, an era of peace and prosperity?”


Isao didn’t know how to answer those questions, but he felt he might not have to as. Kioshi pulled out his katana from his sheath and was wondering what he was going to do with it. Kioshi’s expression turned ice cold.“Look at this blade; it has served me well, because I refined myself to serve it well. The symbolic relationship serves us because we have purpose we know what we must do. We are both disciplined. If you falter at any second in your convictions at a crucial moment you will die. The war should not concern you, so why does it. And do not believe that I will accept your claims that you were persuaded by Yamagata-San.”


Isao was paralyzed he didn’t expect such talk especially not from a Hitokiri. He didn’t want to just stand there and say nothing, but he hadn’t said anything, so he if we going to say something he would try to make the most of it.


“You are right Kioshi-San, I do not have any reason or conviction to fight in this war, and yes I am not totally persuaded by Yamagata-San’s words. They do not pierce me; I am not charmed by their speeches. If I fight, I will fight for my own reasons. My own conviction’s, but as to what they are who is to say since I do not know. I am a simple farmer who minded his own business with the intention to maintain a farm and have a family one day. Now I am called to fight in an army for the Emperor? The war is none of my concern. I am not affected by it my village is not. The artists and merchants are not affected by it. The Samurai and the Shogun are affected by it. It is there war, why should they involve the rest of us. They have shunned us and looked down upon us. Now they seek our help. I’m sure many will be persuaded, but I look at it and see that when it is done and gone. We will be forgotten and shunned again. My reason to fight should be important enough to as you say hold strong convictions and maintain a focus, but I fear I have none of that and if that makes me unfit to be in the emperor’s army then so be it.


”Kioshi looked at Isao for moments until, something unexpected happened. Kioshi laughed. He laughed not at Isao, but how honest he was with him. Kioshi didn’t expect Isao to be this honest, in fact did not know what to expect from Isao. Now that Isao told Kioshi of his own explanation of what he thought of the oncoming war it amused him. Kioshi believed he could work with his man, even train him. Kioshi was a master of iaijutsu and Battōjutsu, but Kioshi believed iaijutsu would be best suited for Isao, and perhaps later teach him Battōjutsu have him train under other’s. Kioshi sheathed his sword as he approached Isao.


“You surprise me Isao-San, but a welcome one. I don’t think you should be in the regular army no. I have something else in mind for you. Something you might find to your liking. It will teach you to give your mind discipline and focus in your life. I’m not asking you to be a Hitokiri, but with my help I can train you to give you reason’s to fight, make those convictions count and give you a high aptitude for the ultimate success: survival. This war will not be easy. Even then if we win, Japan, will never be the same because. If you accept training will be difficult and if you succeed, it will not be an easy life.”

Isao had a hard choice to make, difficult. Shedding this old life, and begin a new. This new life could be wondrous, or disastrous, but at least he would be making the decision, not the Shogun in Edo, but him. This was his choice, but as hard and indecisive as it is to make, he knew that he would never have a choice like this again. A decision like this was difficult. He would have liked more time to think it over; however he knew that he crossed a path of no return when he chose to follow Kioshi. Perhaps he always knew his destiny was elsewhere away from the village, from his current life, or fate simply swept him somewhere else. Isao could not honestly say. Though as hard and difficult this life-changing decision was. It was a new door , and perhaps he wanted more out of life than that of a simple peasant, but time will tell. It may have been a split second decision, but to Isao it was an eternity. Kioshi was not surprised when Isao finally answered which was not surprisingly brief or long.


“Kioshi-San, I accept, I wish to be trained and become like you and the rest of the Hitokiri.”Kioshi-San nodded his head. He had a thin grin, but showed made it clear that Isao was doing the right thing. Kioshi placed his hand on Isao’s left shoulder.


“Your old life ends here Isao. Be proud in the choice you made today. No one told you couldn’t or could make this choice. You decided it. Always take solace in that fact. You made a choice. Isao-San, the samurai, the peasants, the artists and merchants, have less to choose than you. The reason is because their lives are already pre-determined, their families from start to end, know what they will be doing. That right to choose what they want was taken before they were born, but you. You chose to make to do this and be it better or worse. You chose this path. Your new life Isao-San start’s now.

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So nobody's posted yet...I guess I'll go first. It's called "Hands", and it's probably about you.

It’s not something I tend to notice on a girl.

Actually, that’s a lie. But it’s only something you notice unless it’s really wrong, otherwise it’s just minutiae. Like a shirt tucked into your underwear, or a bad cheeseburger. It's a piece of meat you roll around your mouth until you decide to spit it out.

Her hands were easily eclipsed by mine. My thumb larger than her littlest finger; the flesh under her fingernail a fine pink. Diminutive and perfectly proportioned like a Hollywood actress, it felt like i was warming up for a game I wasn't going to play anyways. I rolled it around for a while.

I’ve seen small hands before, no doubt. Hands of a child on the body of a woman. Thumbs with impossibly small finger nails that you think, “are these of any actual use?” I’ve held hands that gripped back as I pulled them closer.

Hands long and slender of white porcelain china. Hands of week old black nail polish. Rustic. Real. Lived in.

Hands of naivety and questions. Hands in love with Dora the Explorer colouring books. Hands Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite.

Hands where everything is so new that they are nothing but a pure symphony of sensory ecstasy. Hand and foot in mouth.

No, these weren't the hands I was looking for, but I held on anyways.

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