“I Am Going to Find Fate and Bind Her” Part III

I walked up the stairs leading to the door, my legs carrying me despite me, I wish to run away, but couldn’t. Mrs. Swing was already quirky as it is and now she happens to be Fate that I was supposed to take control of to make sure that no harm happens to my father. Before I knocked, I turned around.

“Hey sir?”

“Yes? You don’t want to do it anymore?”

“Yes, I mean no. I do want to do it, but I have one question for you”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s your name?”

“You really don’t remember do you?”

“How could I? We have never met.”

He shook his head and said: “My name is Frank. Now go on and do what you came for. I will be here waiting.”

“You are not coming in with me?”

“No, I’m not. This is all you from now on, and let’s just say that I rather not meet her.”

He must be afraid and who in their right mind wouldn’t be? So I knocked three times and waited. She came to the door. Last time I saw her, she was walking past our eyes with a black umbrella over her head, she always had that umbrella with her. Everything she had on was black, but it was the sort of dark clothes that let light bounce off them, they were dark and so imposing. She had dark gloves, a dark dress that went below her knees, dark high heels that she walked in as if she was born in them. She seemed a different age to everyone. People ranged her age from 20’s to 50’s, and to me right now, she seemed in her 30’s. Her pale skin contrasted sharply against her dark allure and softened her air of authority. She had deep blue eyes that one could drown if you were not careful. The shadow of a smile lingered about her face and her hair which was always hidden in a beautiful dark scarf was out and arrived at her waist. I was stunned and didn’t breathe for a few seconds.


The music in her voice finally broke the enchantment I had fallen into. It also seemed strangely familiar. She looked past my shoulder and waved at Frank.

“Hey, Frank? You are not coming in?”

“Hey, Mrs. Swing. Maybe another day, yeah maybe another day.”

“Ok, my door is always open you know”

“I know but thanks no thanks.”

She stepped aside to let me in.

“Come in, child. I have been waiting for you.”

I went in and looked one last time at Frank who seemed to shake his head slowly and sadly. Her door closed with a little squeak while I took in everything I saw in the living room. The room seemed a lot more spacious than you would have thought. On the right was a hallway, then a wall with lots of portraits, and a revolving stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. On my left, was a living room set surrounding a chimney where fire cracked and hissed gently. Large windows let moonlight in as it played shadows on the wooden floor.

“Would you like something to drink? Water? Juice? Tea? Alcohol?”

“Alcohol? No, I’m not old enough to drink.”

“I know and I wanted to make sure you knew that” and then she let out a laughter and it seemed as if the whole room joined in her laughter.

“So what will it be then?”

“Orange juice if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Go ahead and have a seat. You can leave your backpack in that closet by the door if you would like. You are safe here. I will be right back with your juice.”

I went to sit and kept the backpack with me. This whole thing did have an air of déjà vu, but I could swear that this was my first time in this house.

She returned with two glass of orange juice and sat down across me, her manners slow and refined. We stayed silent for a moment that seemed like eternity.

“I was wondering when you would return you know? I was really started to get worried that you might not show up and that I would have start over again.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

She waved my concern away and let silence return between us.

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what? Why is everybody keeps asking if I do?”

I got worried that I yelled at her, but she didn’t bat one eyelash, she simply kept looking at me, to make sure I was sincere. She got up and asked me to follow her.  She opened the door next to the chimney, turned on the light and started going down the stairs. I stood there at the door and I remembered having been here at this moment. My heart was at full gallop and a voice inside my heard were screaming: don’t go! Don’t go! Mrs. Swing turned around and asked if I was coming. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here, but I had come this far and there was no way out. If she was Fate, I had no other choice than to follow her until I found the opportunity. So I swallowed hard and rejoined her at the bottom of the stairs. Once again I was mesmerized by what I saw. The basement was really spacious but was occupied by a single object. It was a complex and vast machinery that weaved thousands and thousands of lines vertically and horizontally. It occupied at least 200 feet and it was made of a fine type of brown wood. It smelled ancient and you could hear a gentle hum as the strands went through the wheels. Come to think of it, it was like a chorus of voices that were competing to be heard until they merged into one voice when the strands went by the wheel. At the far end, there seemed to be an old man sitting on a chair, his face covered by white hair as his hands ran through the strands. I knew him. I mean, I felt like I knew him, but I don’t know from where. I looked at Mrs. Swing as if to ask if I could go and she said yes with her eyes. I walked and the distance seemed to have tripled and I was never going to get to where he was.
When I finally got to where he was and saw him hunched over the strands, I remembered everything:

I was the slave of Fate. I was the old man working endlessly at her workshop in exchange for the eternal safety of my father. I made sure that none of the lives that every strand represented would get tangled up. Overtime I would come up with a little mechanism that could do my work while I escaped. Once I left the house, I always ended up returning to that time when my father was about to leave and I was desperate to find a way to ensure his safety. No harm never befell to my father because he remained in that time capsule where he was happy with his entire family except for me. I was never born and he remained happy forever while I toiled in Fate’s workshop.

I approached the old man only to see him disappear in smokes. I put down my backpack and sat where he was. I ran my fingers over the crossed bars that marked all my attempts over the years. I felt her hands over my shoulders massaging my back. I looked up to her and I had to move my white hair out of the way.

“You knew all along that I was going to come back?”

“Yes, darling, I wouldn’t be Fate if I didn’t know and besides you always leave behind your backpack. I don’t know why.”

I looked over the corner and noticed the cobwebs that surrounded the bag I had brought with me. I had found Fate and she has never let me go, but here I was smiling as I thought of my next escape.


“I am going to find Fate and bind her” Part II

She had told me to return in two weeks, enough time for her to make the arrangements necessary. And for two weeks, each day decided to stretch itself into infinity and test my reason. My aunt had told me to come ready for a long journey in which more than likely I may never return and if I didn’t show up on time, she would understand and would be glad to never bring it up ever again. I promised that even if the sky was to fall on that day, I will be there on time. On july 10th, I left my family. My father’s birthday was a month away and the plan was for to have dealt with Fate before then. In my bag, I had a pocket size notebook, a knife, a red and black pen, a water bottle, three underwears, and a lunch bag made of oranges, chicken and fried potatoes. Before leaving the house, I had slipped an adieu note next to each one of my family member, and while I was about to get out of my parents bedroom. My father had sat up in bed, looked right at me and for a moment, I froze in place, sweating and thinking that I was done, but he mumbled and said about me going to bed and then he fell back to sleep, the house gently rocked by his snoring. I ran all the way to my aunt’s house, my heart on my heels, refusing to look or turn back. This is what I wanted.

When I got to her door, I knocked and rang the bell for five minutes before she opened it up. She looked me up and down and asked me what time is it. I didn’t have a watch, but I was sure that I was on time because I had left the house ten minutes earlier than I usually did. She looked at her watch and said: “It’s ten past midnight. You are late and this is not happening anymore. Go home, child.” She was about to shut the door on me when I slid my foot in there only to regret I when I felt the pain but I held on and said: “I left the house on time and I’m sure if you didn’t take too long to answer the door, I would have been on time.”

“take your foot off, I need to return to bed.”

“LISTEN, PLEASE! I will owe you for the rest of my life! Whatever it is, just name it!”

She paused for a second and the same gleam I saw last time went by her eyes. She finally opened the door.

“You might not have a whole lot of life left when you return.”

I followed her in the kitchen as she introduced me to someone who had his back to me.

“Look what the wind blew by”

The man turned around, his coat had seen better days, and his white shirt found it a challenge to remain white and his brown pants grabbed his waist properly but flopped about his legs. Yet you could tell by how he held himself that this outfit was his best. He was in his forties, a creepy smile creased his face permanently, and he missed the last finger on both hands and I couldn’t get my eyes off his hands even as he extended his right hand to greet me. I was too polite to refuse it.

“so you’re the boy who thinks you want to find Fate?”

“Yes, sir.”


He exchanged a look with my aunt then he asked:

“What’s the bag for?”

“Well, I was told that I was going for a long journey so I packed a few things. Is that problem?”

“No, just that we have been over this.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Never mind, you can bring anything you want just remember that I won’t help you carry it.”

“No problem sir. I will be fine.”

“If there’s nothing else, we should be on our way.”

He looked at my aunt who looked at me as if to dissuade me for saying yes.

“You are not coming?” I asked

“No honey. I will be here waiting for you.”

And we left, we waved each other good bye and then I followed the stranger in silence. All of a sudden, I started asking myself if I was in my right mind to trust someone whose name I didn’t know to lead me like this. I mean my aunt wouldn’t let me leave with a dangerous man, but how well did she know this man? Maybe I should just go home and just forget about all this. I kept looking right and left, but the streets were unusually quiet in this warm night. I wasn’t usually allowed to be out at this time of the night, and I have always thought that I was missing something. We met a homeless man, buried under thick blankets, lying on a cardboard and as I passed him by, he let out: “Damn fools!” and he kept repeating it even as we got further away. My guide had ignored him completely and I was going to ask what he thought of what just happened, but I changed my mind when I looked at his hands again. I wondered if he lost his fingers on one of those adventures at sea with my aunt. I also wondered what he must have done to the person who had caused him to lose his fingers. I barely could control my tongue from trying to tug at him and get him to tell me all these things.

We stopped in front of a house which I recognized as the house of the Mrs. Swing. She was the most popular seamstress in town. There was no celebration or official event if the guests didn’t wear her clothes. She was such in high demand that orders came from all over the world, but for some unknown reason, she only owned this house and worked by herself. What set her apart from the rest of seamstresses was not only her ability to take one look at you and know all your measurements to the dot but also her perception in creating a piece of cloth that not only fit your personality but also the season of your life. If you passed the interview, only then you could pass your command, write her a check and expect the delivery at your door. You were not to ask to see what material she used or how long it took. More than one customer was not pleased with this order of things, but once they put on the clothes, however eccentric it looked at first, it fitted them perfectly like a second skin. Our town wasn’t the best in our country, but we always felt special that we could point out to her house as proof that we may not have the glamour of big cities, but we could challenge any city when it came to our fashion sense. So given the clothes of my guide, I thought he wanted to upgrade his style and I didn’t blame him.

“We have arrived, son. Here lives Fate.”

“What? Are you sure? Mrs. Swing is Fate?”

“Yes she’s always been and she always will be. So go on now and knock, I will wait here for you to go in.”

A suivre…


To be in JHVH
At first, it wasn’t question whether you are in or out, you were simply in and all the way in. Awake or asleep, thirsty or hungry, tired or rested, curious or bored, you were in. There was no such thing as outside or the world out there.  The intimacy between animate and inanimate things was a given. An aura surrounded everything and everyone. Communion took place anywhere and days could turn into weeks and weeks into months and months into…while you were enraptured in the piquant, distinguished, playful, seductive smell that noisette roses gave off as your nostrils remained at a respectful distance and your eyes remain closed. Your whole being, still and one, would rise waves after waves of praise. Your whole being, still and one, would hum in unison with the universe a chant so ancient and yet so new.
You could hear the light sing as it stepped over the darkness and you could see the sound bounce as it surrounded silence. Even darkness had a light grip over the world; it lulled gently the world to sleep, resetting it in its entirety before the Sun made its royal entrance. Silence sharpened the tremor of every sound, sending waves upon waves to every breathing being to feel and listen and yes to listen fully as a whole to one another. Time cycled itself and embarks all the stars in its wake to return again and again.
Sometimes you wake up and can’t seem to join the past to your present, something about the way the hair on your skin rises when the world rushes past you, something about the way light kisses your skin and your eyes leave me in half and hanging on the edge by the skin of my teeth. Below me groans eternity in all its chaos and beauty, I am a rootless tree suspended between heaven and earth, my branches raised toward you, sun and water to my core. I search you.

“I am going to find Fate and bind her”: The beginning of an adventure

He had been swallowed by the road and the sun and the air. He left a cellphone in my hand there was no other number other than his number stored in it and it didn’t matter because I knew it by hear anyways: 2255031487. I wrote it in my hand, graved it at the corner of the dinner table, and wrote it on the wall of my bedroom. Last time father left, I lost weight, I cried oceans and rivers, I was force bathed by mother after refusing for two days. My siblings mocked my sensibility, but they didn’t know what I know, they just couldn’t, wouldn’t understand that his shadow seemed to have gone ahead of him to make sure he doesn’t return like our neighbor’s dad. They never told us or anyone what happened to him, whether it was a ferocious animal or thunder out and about, not discriminating about its prey and striking down whoever was in its way; was it the Devil, jealous of their happiness, who stroke a bargain with God about ripping their father out of their lives? It didn’t matter. One look at my friend’s eyes and his loss would gather in stagnant pools inside you.

Father returned one month later, I was now his shadow wherever he went. Waiting at the door for him to come out, sitting next to him while he ate, drank, laughed. He kicked me in my rear end more than once for following him and even the street dogs took pity on me on that day. I know what I know. You have to keep your friends close but your enemies closer so it was time for me to find Fate and bind her forever or as long as I breathe. I shared my plan with my witch of an aunt who had dove eyes, gentle smile, barren belly, green hands and expert hands in the kitchen. Her meals were so fine that it was rumoured that even the devil lined to have a taste to them when everyone was asleep. For me, witch or no witch, she was going to tell how to find and bind Fate so my father may live endless days before me. She laughed at me and said: Child, you don’t know what you are asking for, you want to be king of kings, decides who lives and dies, control the rain and the sunshine and all that for a father who doesn’t care for you? Get out of my sight, you are wasting my time. Tell your mother she still owes me, now go on and leave.” I stood outside her door for a moment, trying to pierce her with my eyes. She felt my gaze.

“Child, you can’t do nothing to me. You might be powerful, but my love for you is stronger. Go play with someone your age.”

I took off, ran off, flew off, a smile creasing my face, she had FELT it: I had powers. I was going to find Fate and bind her. So I returned every day. I will see to it that my father was safe and sound then go to my aunt and with this help and that smile, I hope to open her heart and receive more words, more jewels. On the last day of my thirteenth’s birthday, she did. Smoking in front of her house, she stitched up for me a patch of her past when she was young, wild and loose and she used to know the paths that led underground and in that world above us. Mesmerized, she told tales of folly, love, riches, strength and power and for a moment, she was transformed before my very eyes. My aunt was not a witch, she was a pirate. She has had enough adventures to fill our local library and more. She finished her tale by telling me that there might be a way to find Fate, but danger lurked in my path and I will end up losing more than a limb in this adventure. I told her not worry because the gain was worth more than the loss. A cruel gleam went by her eyes and disturbed the gentleness of her face for a moment. “We shall see.”

A suivre…


Desire so simple and yet so fierce: to be held again. To feel her moist and tired skin against mine and her caress on my back as it absorbs my pain away. If I close my eyes, days, weeks, months and years will go by and I will still be in her arms, rocked left and right, a gentle and speechless song on her soft lips bringing my weary heart to rest. This is where the universe is, between my heartbeat and hers you can hear it chanting the chorus of eternal now.
Life, and its crashing waves that lick repeatedly the coasts of now without ever committing to a full kiss, has brought me here and to you. My arms stretched out, the question in my eyes   and every atom in me seek, knock and beg to return to your embrace. Time, my enemy grips me by the throat every time you release me, I gasp and tremble for your embrace, the eternity of your embrace, for those lips all over me once more. Death pokes at me while Time has me suspended between Heaven and Earth, they want to clean me out and leave my bones white and shiny under the phlegmatic Sun. But I was white and hot with desire. Raving mad and feverish for a skin to skin contact as your heat becomes my heat while we leave life and death behind, locked forever in a tug of war.
Next time I enter your embrace, lock us both in this moment and throw away the keys into the worm hole of Time, our friends and family will find forgiveness with time. Me and you will be here and now and skin to skin.

This right here

I am in the moment and the moment is in me. I can feel its wet and sloppy kiss all over me. Now all wet, I don’t reach for a towel, I just stand there, my eyes closed, in the moment, under the sun, enjoying every drop.
Then you come in and this moment is ours for the taking. You step softly, firmly in here and now as your presence sends ripples across my galaxy. We fold this moment into a cocoon to keep the darkness out. We stand on our big toes, pirouetting and circling, picking the Earth’s heartbeat and spiraling it into the air. Our love unfolds and turns and swerves the air, the seconds around us. Caught in the moment as the wings flutter, stars wink, light flies by, we remove our shells delicately, saying adieu to past selves, burning past selves and raising a holy smoke on this altar, in this moment.

I got me a friend

Inspired by TV shows like Supernatural and Grimm…

Crouched against the wall,

His arms rubbed against the inside of his legs

His back stretched against his muscles

I returned one day from work and there he was whimpering, growling, clenching his sharp teeth Keeping his face hidden to the corner of the wall As if it was going to open up at some point.

I hoped it did and this would confirm that I was dreaming

That I didn’t have This in my living room

I decided to flush some alcohol down my system to think more clearly

And with a broom in hand I was going to ask It to reveal itself

I poked him a couple of times with my broom

A low growl sent me a warning His body shivered once in a while The clock on the wall ticked slowly Sleep was pulling me out of reality

My feeble will grasped at the slippery moment

With my eyes fixated on it I backed into my armchair And put the broom on my lap

Sleep slapped the lights out of me

Before I could protest and argue

I can’t tell how long I was suspended between Dream and Reality

I woke up to a heavy breathing and oversized eyes covered by oily hair.

He had a small nose and thin lips

His yellow complexion was spaced by bruises. I knew a threat when I saw one

My broom was broken in half

We eyed each other looking inside one another

Seeking the anomaly in the other

I coughed a little and extended my hand toward him: “My name is Lucien de Maison and you?”

This civility left no impression on my new friend

I was paper white, he was pencil dark

I needed for this incident to have never occurred

I needed for IT or him to rise and vanish

Outside, there was no sight of Superman or a Messiah

This Human Thing was here to stay and I wasn’t consulted

And to think this was going to be my last evening

It was not proper to depart from this world without a proper supper

I closed the door and made a feast for the two of us

We both forgot our manners and shared a pot of meat on the floor

I saw a glint of pleasure in my eyes flash by his eyes

I went to my bathroom and dumped my pills

I returned to find him curled up in my couch

I covered him up and then I saw myself smiling in the mirror.