Be not afraid, child. I hear your pleas. I am sent here for a purpose, and that purpose is you.

We aspects of god do not grant answers to just any prayer. We are here to ensure that the divine investment offered by this tiny miracle will pay off for our chairman.

He lost his job weeks ago. He’d been depositing access checks from his credit card monthly, to dupe his wife. He’d still leave the house at 7 am, he’d grab a paper, read it with a cup of coffee at Starbucks for a couple of hours a day. He was lost.

Heroes die.

This is the unfortunate truth about the beloved “Hero’s Journey” template. Those people put themselves on the line and end up dead.  I suppose that on a long enough timeline, we all are worm food, when you think about it.

Does that give us permission to be heroic?

Madwoman Maddie wandered the streets of Hollywood,  berating new people every day.  She’d stop in laundromats, boutiques, bookstores, resturaunts, and peep shows, hoping to find new softies to scream at.  She found long ago that it was the only way people would pay attention to her. So alone and hurting.

They came from the trees. I’d say they were wild faeries on the backs of darting hummingbirds, defending some grove or mushroom circle. I woke up hours later, with tiny darts running up and down my neck.  My friends had all fled, It was dark. What could possibly go wrong?

From back far enough, you see the patterns of life. You pull the focus to infinity and it all becomes this beautiful wide image, encompassing everything.   In the close-up, your depth of field is so narrow that if you step an inch foward or backward, the image goes to blur.

I can remember what happened the other night, bits and pieces, anyway.  There was a nightclub. There were friends. Then I left with someone. Then there was a car accident. We got out, and we saw the giant robot. It was fighting this disgusting  tentacled glob thing. We ran, screaming.

Life drifts. Things change slowly. There are small changes that occur fast, surprising us. It is the changes over time, though that make the real difference. It is the accumulation on minor actions that bring down walls and make kings.  And then there’s today, and the simple choices right now.

Nothing can prepare a person for this. I’m sure that’s me. Same body. Same walk. Same face. Same imperfections I’ve obsessed over my whole life. He slides into the driver’s seat, just like me. As I look him in the eye, my eye, he smiles, speeding out of the driveway.

I know I have my keys. My car wasn’t broken into.  I’m brooding on this, late into the night. I cancel plans with my girlfriend.

I hear  sounds outside.

Someone’s getting into my car. I’m about to go confront the guy as the dome light inside flips on. It’s me.