Dove number 99

Last night I set one last dove free. There are no more. The bird cage on top of the apartments is now empty. I can't help but continue to ponder about last night's bird. The patterns of this bird were unlike any I've seen before. The turns, dips, and swooping motions were so precise, so carefully executed by the dove. I was left with only one interpretation which I have never before come across. As I recorded down the significance of every turn and flap of the dove, I was left with only one understanding. Usually, the dove's movements leave me with an understanding of how I can intervene-how I can help change one small event that will change the rest of someone's life forever. But this time....this time was different. As I released the last bird, number 99, I didn't even snap a picture to remember her by. For some reason, I sensed a feeling of finality...I sensed Death. But the bird didn't fight it's release. She just stepped right onto my finger with an innocent confidence. Never scared, she was. She was a seer too, and for that, this dove understood fate. Her motions told me so. She flew on into the horizon, dancing out her fate, revealing every last breathe to me-when, where, how. And as the dove flew off into the distance, past the city sky line, the rain came. It came harder than ever before. The sky gray, the only light left was the glowing white dove that illuminated the air around. As the dove flew farther and farther, the dove's illuminating light grew dimmer.. until finally, the light from the dove, like a lone candle, flickered out. She was gone, and soon I knew the woman would be too.

That man is someone else's

Hearing sirens blasting as an ambulance or police car speeds down the street is nothing special in this city. But when the ambulance parks out front of Jupiter apartments and the next thing I know a crew of EMT's are rushing into the apartment down the hall from me, I became alarmed. My curiosity and worry got the best of me, so I slipped into the buzzing hallway. Fanny Mae, the woman living in the apartment which was causing so much excitement, was frantically explaining exactly what happened to the policeman who had just arrived. Her clothes soaked in blood

Her sentences spewed out of her mouth so quickly they could hardly be differentiated. "I don't know what happened.I just came back to my apartment and he was angry and drunk and he started to hit me and I tried to push him away but he wouldn't stop and next thing I know it that he' sprawled out on the floor and he wouldn't respond to me. And there was blood... Oh gosh. So much blood. Oh no. Is he dead? "

The policeman said some comforting words about the man's condition and continued on with further questions...

Fanny responded, " Well, he's my husband but we have been split up for awhile. He just came back into town. I hadn't seen him for so long, and I think he had been drinking....actually I know he had been drinking... a lot. But I was used to that. After all, that was the reason we had split up in the first place. So i didn't think much of it when he showed up drunk at my apartment. But I guess when I let he kept drinking a lot more. I mean, he was just out of control when I come.I was scared for my life. It all happened so fast. And when I tried to find a pulse....Oh gosh. I'm so scared...."

As soon as I heard her talking about the man being a drunk, my heart dropped. I felt for her.I tried to suppress and fight off the old memories that shot to the front of my mind. Violence. Fear. The smell. I pushed them to the back of my mind where they belonged. I just couldn't deal with seeing Fanny Mae all hysterical and distraught because of her husband's stupid decisions as a drunk. This wasn't her fault. She was just trying to defend herself, whatever happened she had reason to do it. I remember seeing my mom all distraught over my dad( "That Man" as i often refer to him) when he was the one being the violent jerk. My mom in that same position...I don't ever want to see anyone feel manipulated by loving a drunk again. And now, this man had done the some thing to sweet little Fanny Mae. 

This man was just as despicable as That Man. I saw the stretcher coming towards me as I continued to stand in the threshold of my apartment door. The EMT's rushed the stretcher towards me and Fanny Mae began to cry harder as she saw the limp body of her husband sprawled out across the stretcher covered in blood. And as the stretcher was hurriedly rushed in my direction, my heart skipped a beat. I had to take a second look...the man looked familiar... (closer). Maybe I have seen him with Fanny Mae before...(closer) Wait, I definitely have seen this man before, but....(closer). OH MY GOSH!! THIS MAN IS THAT MAN. THIS MAN IS MY FATHER!!!WHAT WAS MY FATHER DOING ON THAT STRETCHER, CAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN...that would mean...that would mean that Fanny Mae's husband, the drunk jerk, is also my father. This man causing all that hurt to Fanny Mae is MY FATHER. The man that was now stabbed, covered in his own blood. What??!!!HOW COULD THIS BE....ooooohhhhhhhhh, that's why my I saw "That Man" back in town sitting in the bar the other day.  Now it all makes sense. And now my birth father was being carried away on a stretcher because he's still a drunk mess. Still causing more women pain. Still with his violet temperament. I remember those nights I would fear for my life, for my mom's life. I had put the past behind me for the most part. Up until now that is. As soon as the EMTs all had made it down the hall and out of the building, the hall returned to its quiet hum from the air vents. But Fanny Mae's sobs and gasps for air resonated. The policeman stood there quickly, giving FannyMae her space. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the threshold and towards Fanny Mae. Nothing could prepare her for what was coming.