My Dear Ago

My Dear Ago

by guest blogger 

 

Time has stripped those most precious years away from me, each one a blatant act of petty theft

Faded memories and worn out stories are sadly, but wholly, much of what I have left.

One tale in particular, it strikes me right quick. A riddled love story I still aim to solve –

A marriage to a man. Shall we call him Ago? Ago the enigma, I’d say. My epiphanies evolve

This affair, it caused me great woe and torment, yet I had a special love for Ago. I suppose I still do

We danced through life together, a stunning dance. I wish now to share that dance with you

 

We met at an early age – too young to care really. I wouldn’t dare say love at first sight

I didn’t think much of him at the time, what ignorance! This ignorance would end up our plight

Innocent though it was we grew aware – a deepening feeling. How deep? Well that’s murky

We noticed each other, splashing moments. But where ripples met remained a mystery that irked me

Oh Ago, I must disclaim it was strange at times. I’d catch him in my thoughts unbeknownst his aim…

Were my best interests in his mind? We danced. I presume this muse is why some call love a game

 

Our younger years together; ‘twas a passionate but tumultuous tango that entailed us

You see, rarely did we see eye to eye. But I was brazen and he, timid. Hence I’d frequently prevail

Many nights I cherished with Ago, we’d lie in bed and take comfort in the company

Venting our daily trepidations; and they’d melt away and we’d drift away into a nightly harmony

My dear Ago, Oh how it was so! At times together we’d be the life of the party! We could do no wrong

But other moments soiled. Shots of anger fired between us, where blame ran high and scorn ran long

 

Ago and I grew older. But steadier. The conclusion we were meant together became clear

When the foggy veil draped over our love dissolved, a heavy comprehension began to appear

Mind you, I forewarned you of this riddled love. How exactly this flowering took place is hard to tell

Change is viewed best in the Past, Ago and I didn’t notice. We were cast under Present’s spell

My life, my friends would come and go. Affairs, oh I had plenty! Ago would scold me so, I’d cry

I digress, ignorance drove a wedge between us. My ignorance. Yet Ago, he took my mistakes in stride

 

It is here I leave you, withered and worn. These memories of my strongest love haunt me most

Alas! Regrets flood me. We could have been more! I took for granted Ago, now I pay with morose

An old friend now he remains, seldom we converse. Mostly recollecting golden memories shared

Old friends and flames have long since been doused, a sliver of me vanquished with each flare

Still Ago, my dear sweet Ago, he silently flickers. My friend! My enemy! My Love! Can you now see?

I recite to you my dance with Ago, Ago the enigma. I shall tell you his true name, why, it’s Me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Worst Kind of Marriage – Part 4

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Part 1 –

Part 2 –

Part 3 –

Bethany was locked in the closet with Amanda, the young bible-clenching girl who had made the terrible mistake of knocking on Huerto’s door.

“We need to get out of here,” said Amanda. She was blonde and had a fresh black eye.

“I know.”

“Can we? I mean, how has he managed to keep you here?”

“Every window is boarded up. Every room is locked from the outside. He’s always within reaching distance of his rifle. And he never has any visitors over,” said Bethany. She’d been locked in the house with Huerto for four months.

Amanda swatted the hanger poking her. “What happened to you? I mean… why did he stab you?”

Bethany swallowed. “We got in a fight this morning.”

“About?”

Bethany felt her wound and winced. She stood at a hunch – upright hurt too badly. “I asked to go outside. Even if it meant having a gun in my side.”

“And?”

Bethany looked down and ran a hand straight through her dark hair. “And he got upset, picked up a knife, then stabbed me.” She sniffed. “A minute later he got out of bed to ‘make us some breakfast’.”

Amanda’s face went blank. “What kind of man is he?”

“He’s not a man,” said Bethany. “He’s a coward. A sicko with a gun.”

“I wish I never came here.”

A shout came from the other room. “Marriage ceremony! Later today, Huerto and the bitch with the bible!”

Bethany shot a glance at Amanda. “Marriage ceremony…”

“What?”

Bethany swallowed. “I know what he’s about to do. He’s going to wed you with the rifle barrel pressed to your temple.”

“So?”

“So,” Bethany said, licking her lips before going on. “So maybe that’s my time to do something. I remember where the knife is that stabbed me. If I can manage to get hold of it in secret, maybe I can kill him before he knows what hit him.”

“But won’t that put me in danger?”

“What?” said Bethany.

“If you lunge to stab him when his gun is at my head he’ll shoot me, and I’ll die.”

Bethany bit her fingernail.

“C’mon,” said the teenage girl. “You can’t take that risk-“

“In all the time I’ve been here, not once have I had the chance to hurt him. Today I’m either going to bleed to death or fight back. What would you do?”

Amanda looked terrified.

“What?”

“Please don’t get me killed.”

Before Bethany could respond, the lock clicked and Huerto swung the door open. “Wedding ceremony, upstairs!” He pointed his rifle at Amanda. “Get out.”

He waited for Amanda and Bethany to exit, then walked behind them. Bethany led the way, eyes glued ahead. Blood continued to drip down her nightie and the pain was getting worse. She could feel her legs shake as she stepped up the stairs.

Her eyes were dark, as was her hair, but her skin was pale. As they reached the top of the stairs her breath intensified. A strange feeling mixed with all the pain, fear and anger she’d had to live, day in, day out.

It was hope.

Part 5, Coming Soon!

 – Thomas M. Watt

 

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 1

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They sat across the table from one another, each carving up his own chicken breast. Not a word had been spoken since Marie last exited the room in tears.

“Let me get this straight,” Mr. Huerto finally said. “You come to my house, shake my hand one time, and now you’re expecting to leave with my wife?”

“Not just leave,” said Joe. “I want to be with her.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head. He wiped the sauce from his lips with his white napkin. “You think I’m some kind of joke? You think you can just waltz in here, have yourself a fine meal, then spend the night fucking my wife?”

“Mr. Huerto, you know that’s not what I came for! I’m in love with her. We’re in love together.”

“You think she loves you?”

“I know it.”

Mr. Huerto scoffed. “You’re really something, you know. Haven’t been laid in a while, is that it?”

“No!” Joe shouted.

Marie could be heard weeping in the other room.

“What did you do, anyway?”

Joe didn’t answer.

“C’mon, if you really think I’m gonna hand over my wife to you, you better give me some answers.”

Joe had a drink of water. “I’m done wasting my time here.” He got up to leave.

“Joe, sit down,” said Mr. Huerto. “I’ll let you have her without a fight, but only if I approve.”

“I don’t need your approval,” said Joe.

“But Marie sure does, unless you want her life to be filled with doubt. She’s come to love me, you know. Despite what you may think.”

After a lengthy exhale, Joe began his story.

PART 2, COMING SOON!

– Thomas M. Watt