It was a dark and stormy night

Aaron rolled out of bed.

"Another day, another day," he thought.

He shuddered. For some reason, the thought bothered him.

He went to work, doggedly walking the same path as before. Dogmatically walking. Kept his eyes straight ahead when passing the pawn shop. He didn't look at the church, or the woods. At work, he let his eyes gaze blankly on the blind man, and then let them gaze blankly on the wall in front of him.

He walked home, laid on his bed, and closed his eyes. His fingers mindlessly messaged the jade ornimant that laid hidden benieth his shirt.

Suddenly, he had the urge to go on a walk.

As he walked, it begain to rain. Pouring harder and harder, until he couldn't see in front of him. Couldn't see behind him. Couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

Then there was a woman in front of me. Old. She was wearing tons of jewelry. He wanted it.

He took it.

He pushed the woman over and grabbed her purse. Snatched it right out of her hands.

He heard a whistle. Police running behind him.

He laughed, and sprinted away, down the street. The blue man behind him. He would never catch up. The jade dragonfly was bouncing happily around his neck.

This is what she would have wanted. He knew it.

He was gaining ground on the police. Leaving them behind. The purse was his; the money was mine. It was all his.

He jumped the fense to the playground, the newly revamped playground. He sprinted past the playstructure, and the purse went flying out of his hand. It landed in the slide with a soft thump. He had time to get it. He had plenty of time. Cops were slow.

He ran to the slide. And stopped, stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a corpse on the slide. A dead body. And lying flat on her chest was his bag. Her bag. Stolen by death.

The feeling of disgust covered him yet again.

He couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape her.

He turned around to face the police, to turn himself in.

Amy stared at him, an expression of shock covered her face.

She looked like she wanted to say. Why?

But she said nothing.

"I'm sorry," he replied.

I ripped of the necklace. The jade dragonfly.

"You cought me. You can have it. I dont need it anymore."

He turned and walked away. He knew she wouldn't follow. He hoped she wouldn't.

The rain poured down on her blue uniform, on the jade dragonfly.

She stared at it for a long time, long after he was gone.

Then she put it on. A unhealthy reminder.

Thats when she called in the corpse.

This post is hard to write

Aaron opened his eyes.
He was in a bed. A comfortable bed.
The room around him was white. White walls, white ceiling, white curtains. Above his bed stood the palest woman he had ever seen. Albino. Her mouth was moving.
"Wake up," she said.
"Where am I..." he mumbled, the words barely escaping his swollen lips, if at all.
"You'll be all right," she said, "you're safe now. You've escaped."
He stared up at her. The light seemed to make a halo around her head.
"I think I love you," he said. It wasn't something he should say. It wasn't something he would ever say. He wasn't himself.
"I know," she said. "Don't worry. I am your salvation."
She was wearing a police uniform. He felt his heart beat faster. He believed her more than he had ever believed any shit religion in his life.
"I don't think I'm hearing what you are actually saying," he whispered.
"You aren't. But its the truth."
Aaron drifted into comfortable oblivion.

When he awoke, she was still there. He looked up at her with a feeling of adoration.
Their roles had reversed. He was the one looking with love; she was not.
"Who are you," she asked.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
"An innocent passerby? In the slum? At two in the morning? Those kind of things don't happen."
"It happened this time."
"Stop looking at me like that," she said.
"Like what?"
"Like that. It's creepy."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
The conversation went on in the same strangely awkward manner. Eventually, Aaron was released. He got a job in the coffee shop, and rented a seedy apartment in the Jupiter building. The image of the policewoman and her halo haunted him like a beautiful angel; he was content to drift through this life. He did not seek to meet her, the image of salvation was enough.
One day, she walked in and ordered a coffee. She looked at him suspiciously. He gazed at her with his innocent wide eyes.
The next day, she came in again. The same suspicious gaze, but it had dulled. "I'm Aaron," he said.
"I'm Amy," she responded, "Is that your real name?"
"Real enough."
Every day, she came in, and they would talk. She was looking for a hint of his guilt. She knew that he was up to something. Amnesia belonged in the movies.
Eventually he asked her out to dinner.
She accepted.
The world moved quickly.
Her suspicion faded gradually. She began to appreciate the way he looked at her.
At dinner, she would vent about her work. She prided herself in solving every case which had ever come her way. "I got every one settled. I unraveled Fannie May and the stabbing, I figured out the roaming criminal. All that has come my way but two," she said. "I never cracked you," she smiled. "And I never caught that robber who got the pawnshop."
"What?" asked Aaron. He didn't move.
"Some guy beat the blind locksmith into opening up the pawnshop one night. He ransacked the place, but only took one item. Some necklace."
Aaron felt under his shirt, where the jade dragonfly was pressed against his skin. It had been returned with his other clothing in the hospital. He had never thrown it away. He told himself that this was because he wanted to keep a reminder.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "It just bothers me, thats all."
Aaron didn't respond.
He was happy. He told himself he was. But the jade dragonfly still dangled from he neck, and he found himself walking through shops, planning heists without thinking. It happened more and more frequently as the weeks went on. The more she loved him, the more he stumbled into old habits. This frightened him. He did not want to leave her, but he did not want to betray her by falling from this heaven. On the nights after those days he would lie in bed with her, holding her in silence. Sometimes he would sleep. But dreams were a luxury he could not afford.
He grew tired and lethargic, more so than ever before. Nothing was chasing him but himself. Nothing frightened him but his identity.

Trial By Fire

Icy cold. A barren plain. Stretched out. Empty. Alone. Cold cold cold. Back is cold. Shiver. Darkness. Pitch black. Shiver. Freezing cold. Shiver. A light. Dull. Pulsating. Growing. Warmer. Warmer. Comfort. Heat. Life. Growing and growing, warm, hot, scorching. Too hot. Stop. Stop. Face is hot. Stop. Hot. Lying in water, sweating. Go away, stop, no more. Still hot, always hot. Come back cold. But still hot and hotter and burning and scorching everywhere everything stop stop stop go away. Field is full. Burning. Shouts. Cant breathe. Stop. Hot.
Aaron's eyes snapped open. A burning tree had fallen mere feet from his face. My burning bush, he thought with a wry smile. The snow around him had melted. Leaving him soaked, although parts of his jacket were starting to singe. He jumped up, away from the heat. Survival came first, always. Don't steal, just survive. That would be his new motto. He ran to the far side of the churchyard, where there was some un-melted snow, and shoved his burning face in it. The pain eased.
It was then that he thought of the priest. The cranky old curmudgeon who had taken him in without question, and who had given him food. Like Les Miserables, he thought. Funny how shit from high school comes back at the weirdest times. Anyways, the old man was most likely burning in the house. Aaron owed him. The church was burning on this side, and the edge of the fire was on top of where the old man slept. The right thing to do would be to save him, but Aaron paused. If the cops came, he would be questioned. Who are you, where are you from, why did you do this? He could hear the sirens now, echoing in his head.
Stay or run. Save him or save yourself? Aaron thought back to her, and realized the jade dragonfly was still clutched in his hand. He thought back to the sleepless nights, where he just wished he could have saved her. Wished she wouldn't have gone so far, wished he had stopped her. And he knew what he had to do, even as the police lights screeched up the road.
The smoke choked him with his first breath. He doubled over and put his shirt over his face. His eyes stung, his burned and swollen face seared with pain. Had to keep going. He ran down the hallway, through the chapel to the old mans room. The walls were burning, the ceiling was burning. Aaron didn't stop running. He ran straight to the old man's bed, a simple cot, and hoisted him onto Aaron's shoulder. Then he was running again, off balance, slower because of the extra weight. His legs were sandbags: slow. Too slow. His lungs burned. Running. And then he was out, cool air, clean air. He dropped the priest. And he couldn't stop coughing. The police were there, standing there, and here he was, old man at his feet, coughing his life away to prison. Like a twisted laugh, thats all a cough was. A laugh gone wrong. He fell over, next to the man, laughing as the cops and firemen sprinted to him. They think that they're saving me, he thought, and the coughing grew all the louder. That's when he passed out.

The Heist

Morning again. Aaron yawned, as was his habit. Then he remembered. Today was the day. The day. The heist. He was excited. More alive than he had been in a long while.
He jumped out of bed, sending the covers flying. What a day! He began pacing from edge to edge in his room, going over the plan in his head. Find the blind dude. Make him unlock the pawn shop. Take the jade dragonfly. Come back successful. An old dog performing one last old trick. Thats it. No more.
There was one little problem. He didn't know how to find the blind guy. And, it was 7:00 in the morning. He was going to have to wait a whole 15 hours to start his work. Fifteen hours! A lifetime.
Ahhh well. Things were changing now, at least. The sun shone a little bit brighter. The trees in the woods were a little greener. The gutters were less filled with grime. Aaron had a hop in his step as he approached the coffeehouse. He ordered his coffee, and spilled the change into the Tips jar. He was running low on money anyway. Maybe he would take some from the regester. That would make the crime seem like a regular burglery anyway. Yeah. He smiled to himself. The girl behind the register smiled back. Aaron took his coffee to the back, and watched the place. His smile dimmed. The blind man was no where in sight... Aaron might have to find another locksmith. But where? He couldn't go back to the past: oh no. That was long gone- lost in his memory. He would never go back there.
He practically chugged his coffee- adding even more energy to his already insane walk. He would figure something out, he was sure. He wouldn't let anything get in his way. He walked in the woods to the well, only to find a certain blind individual kneeling in front of it. Aaron detected the hint of tears, and noticed that the dog was no where to be found. This was insane- this was luck- this was fate. Someone somewhere was smiling down at him. Maybe it was her... It didnt matter. He jogged up to the man.
"Hey dude," Aaron said. A differant voice came out of his throat than his own. An English accent- also higher- more nasal. This voice was untraceable.
"Yea..." the blind man replied.
"I've seen you with picks. For locks."
"Yea..." The blind man was distracted. Not really listening. Perfect.
"Do you know how to use them?"
"Yea. Sure. Whatever you want."
"So you'll do a job for me?"
"Sure." He wasnt wearing his glasses. His eyes were milky white. Staring directly at the bright rising sun. Staring into the distance.
"I'm a bit busy right now though," Aaron said, "I've got things to do all day. How about tonight at 10?" It was a horrible lie, a horrible coverup. But the blind man bought it.
"Yeah. Sure. If you want it that way. Just point me to my coffee now" he said, his voice sounding hollow. His eyes never moved. Not once through the entire conversation. Suddenly, he moved his head, pointing himself in Aaron's direction.
"Sure, man. Just head that way." Aaron pointed.
"Thanks," said the blind man. He obviously didn't actually care what Aaron did.
"Good," said Aaron. "See you around." He laughed at his cruel joke as he ran off. Who cared about a stupid blind locksmith.

The day dragged on, and yet also went very quickly. A crazy man on top of the bank was yelling "RAPTURE IS UPON US. REPENT. REPENT. WORSHIP ME!"
Aaron yelled back "WHY?"
"I'm Jesus! Belive me!" repied the man.
"I'm a fictional man who lived 2000 years ago! Believe me!" yelled Aaron before walking around.

He was happy. This was chaos. This was his life, or, at least what his life used to be like. He smiled once more, before running too and fro, fitfully passing the time. He went to the roof, but it bored him. Today was not a boring day. Today was not a day of thoughtfully considering others feelings and reactions. Today was not a day of reminiscing about the past and past mistakes. Today is not boring, stupid, wasteful. Today was a day of action. He went to the pub as soon as it opened, and ordered a drink from the pretty lady. He drank it, and thought about hitting on her. Nope. Not tonight. He watched the sports game, fidgeting in his seat. He never liked baseball anyway.

Soon enough, night came.

Aaron went to the well, where he had agreed to meet the blind man. The blind man was already there. In a sudden moment of thought, Aaron wondered if the blind man cared if it was day or night. Besides the temperature change, there wasn't much different to the blind... Aaron shook off the thought. This was the job, this was her memory, this was the one last hurrah. He was happy and alive. And he would never let someone else ruin that. He would not consider anyone else on this day. And with that thought, he smacked the blind man on the back of his head with the baseball bat he had found. The blind man crumpled. Aaron smiled, and dragged him to the alley near the pawn shop. After about 20 minutes, he threw the man over his shoulder, and began slurring. He threw on the mask of the drunk man very well. No one notices a drunk and his passed out friend. He stopped in front of the pawn shop, and threw some snow on the mans face. Wake up man. Wake up. The blind man woke up.
"Listen very carefully," Aaron said in a fierce whisper. "Open these two locks."
He slammed the blind man's hands into the barred door, and handed him his tools. "Now," Aaron added. For the sake of intimidation, Aaron spent his time knocking the baseball bat into his hand. Each hit left a satisfying thump sound. Thump. Thump. Thump. After five minutes of thumps the blind man was done. He asked for payment. Aaron thumped him a couple of times with the bat. That was payment enough. Aaron dragged him back to the well, and left him there. He smiled, and ran back to the pawn shop. He hadn't seen a soul all night. He ran in the shop. Took the jade dragonfly, and trashed the place. Stupid pawn shop. Stupid owner.
Aaron left as suddenly as he came. Just as he was leaving, a cop car drove past. Aaron bolted, but he felt the eyes of the cop on him. But she kept on driving. Aaron sprinted to the church, only to find that the priest had locked up. He hid the jade dragonfly under a stone, and wandered around town. There was a huge mass of reporters and police in front of the Jag. Aaron was pleased to notice that the female cop who drove by had her hands full there. No way she will check up on the pawn shop tonight. No way she will remember my face with a shit-fest like this on her hands. Stupid cop. Aaron returned home. He was feeling tired. He pulled out the jade dragonfly and stared at it. This was a bit of her, left behind. This was what he had from before. Suddenly, he bit back the urge to cry. Had he learned nothing from her mistakes? Had he learned nothing from the past? He had gone the whole damn day like nothing had happened, like the past didn't exist. Like he didn't know that she was dead. He had been happy. All day. And he had hurt people, all day. The blind man, the crazy on the bank. This was why he had come here. Not to do that. He had been so certain, so strong in his belief. He was going to do it right this time, find himself. Run away from that crowd. Be at peace. Spend all the cash, and when it ran out, find a job. He had a fucking plan. A beautiful plan. A plan made from her ashes. And he had just fucked it up, messed it all to hell. He stared down at the Jade Dragonfly, and silently cursed it. He cursed himself, who he used to be. He cursed her. He closed his palm and let the dragonfly's sharp corners bite into his soft skin. The feeling of defeat rolled over him like waves over a drowned man. Eventually sleep found him, in the snow, lying in the broken graffiti-stained churchyard.

Day 3

Rush. Adrenaline. Running. Running. Running. Yelling. Smiling. Over fences. Jingle. Jingle. Weights. Green and gold weights. In my pocket. A jade dragonfly beside me. A bubbling giggling feeling. Like champagne. But thats later. Running now. A man in blue behind us. A fat man, a slow man. He cant catch me, he cant catch her. We're too fast for him, too fast. Nobody can catch us. Down back alleys. Hes further and further behind, fading away. Through an open door, out the back. Shes screaming for the joy of it, jade dragonfly bouncing around her neck. The blue man is just a memory now. Running for the joy of it. For the wind through our hair. All the way to whoever would buy. Whoever had cash. Always adrenaline. Always smiles. Always champagne. Running. Running. Her beautiful face. Kissing. Making love. Life. Love. Pure life. Over fences. Through open doors. Out windows. Down skylights. Through locks, without keys. Like ghosts. Running, running, running. No one can catch us. Too fast. A shot. Blood. Blood on her hands. An intense look. Not running for joy. Straining for freedom. Not smiling. Fear. Sweat. But still running running running. Another shot. boom boom boom. More blue men. More running. Out of breath. No more running. Boom boom boom. Blood on her hands. On her face. On the dragonfly. Red dragonfly. Blood. Bullet holes in her. A broken dragonfly. Screaming for pain. Screaming. Screaming. Boom boom boom. Death. Darkness. Alone. Running. Running. A gold watch, a heavy bag. A past. Running. Running. Her screaming face.

And with that, Aaron rolled out of bed with a start. Another morning. He groaned. Another day. Again to the coffeeshop. Same day as yesterday, but the blind man was missing. On the way back, he glanced in the pawnshops windows, and froze. There was the dragonfly, the jade necklace which had haunted his dreams. It was hanging on its own, separate from the million other necklaces. He had thought that he would never see it again. He shook his head. He wasn't. The real one was broken. This was just a look a like, made in the same factory. But still, he thought. What were the chances?
It was bitterly cold outside, so Aaron walked in. It was only fitting that he buy it, that he honor the past. The clerk approached him as soon as he entered. "Ready to get that golden watch back?" he said in a sleazy salesman voice.
"No," said Aaron. He never wanted to see that watch again. "I'm actually interested in buying something else. That jade dragonfly necklace."
"Very nice, very nice," said the clerk as he went to grab it, "High quality stuff. Beautiful to behold, and will last a lifetime."
"You have no idea," said Aaron to himself.
The clerk brought it to him. It was the very same as before, down to every detail. The pricetag read 150$. It was worth it. Then another idea crossed his mind.
"Nevermind," he told the clerk, as he handed the dragonfly back. "I've got better things to buy."
Aaron stode from the pawnshop. It would be much more fitting, much more suited to her memory, he thought, if I did it the old way. If I took it the way she would have wanted me too. One more time. For her sake. Shouldn't be too hard. Just sneak in one night, snatch it, and sprint home. Just like we used to do.
He walked through the rest of the day in a dream, dully punctuated by screaming sirens. He spent hours looking over the city from the roof of Jupiter, only to have to leave because of the fire alarm. On the way out, an hysterical elderly chinese lady almost plowed him over running to an elderly chinese man. She was screaming, "Lu! Lu!" It was late in the day, and Aaron didn't feel like sticking around Lu or his girlfriend. He went back to the church, and sat in his room, thinking. He needed someone to pick the locks. He had seen the blind man with a lockpicking kit in the coffeeshop before. He could hear Father McKenzie mutter to himself as he knotted his socks alone. At some point in the darkness, Aaron fell asleep. He dreamed of jade dragonflies.

"Another day, another day," Aaron thought as he rolled off his rock hard mattress onto the dirty concrete floor. He was sleeping in the storage room. He groaned. The floor was cold. And the dusty air carried no hint of the smell of coffee. Aaron needed coffee. Badly. He used to wake up to the scent of coffee every morning. He used to have a mattress which sat on a bed frame, not the floor. He used to... well... there was no helping that now. This was what he had now, and it would have to do. He pulled himself off the floor. His body felt like a limp puppet. Coffee. Now.
He stumbled through the woods, cut through Lu's Garage, and finally ended up at the local coffee shop. Thank God. Not that Aaron bought into that type of thing. He didn't bother to knock the snow from his shoes before he trudged to the counter, as he had every morning for the past two weeks. Ordered a black coffee. Nothing special added, as bare bones as they had. It rang up to 2.05. Aaron handed over a twenty. The change came back. Aaron took it, and promptly dumped it in the Tips jar, all 17.95. The girl at the counter smiled at him. Aaron took his coffee and walked to a table in the corner. Sweet nectar of life. He began to glance around the coffeeshop. He recognized the regulars now. There was the blind dude with the dog, sitting by the window, humming some tune to himself. Regular old blind dude. Nothing new. There was the young hipster, skinny jeans and all, hunched over his mac laptop. Probably still working on his documentary about life in the slums. It was supposed to throw him into fame and fortune. People like that came a dime a dozen. There was the tired looking woman with badly applied makeup. Probably preparing to run a second shift at the Jag. Old news, old news. He had thought that the slums might be more interesting than this; he had thought his eyes would be opened. Ahhh well. At least there was coffee.
Now, as he had done every day of the week, Aaron wandered around town. He had long since found his favorite places, and he visited them, one by one. The well in the woods was first. It was peaceful, serene. Overgrown, broken. The snow slowly accumulated on the ground as he watched and listened to the world around him. And as he ignored it. He could still hear cars driving, horns honking. But they were more distant. In a nearby tree, AH and JD had carved their names within a heart shape, just like a million other couples on a million other trees. Aaron absently wondered if they were still together, still alive. Probably not, he decided. Maybe alive, but not together.
Next was the tunnel near the church. Aaron still wondered why the tunnel had been built. One day, he had even looked at the records of the neighborhood, to find a hint of a reason, but there was none. The old man sat by the wall. He looked cold. Dirty nails, dirty hair, dirty clothing. All shivering. After a while, Aaron left. Yesterday had looked the same.
Then Aaron visited the empty old playground, and the pawn shop. At the latter, a gold watch stared up at him, its flawless face declaring the time. Aaron turned in disgust. Not doing that again. Never. He stormed back to the church, grabbed some of his dirty clothing, and visited the laundry mat.
Later in the day, he visited Jupiter Apts. He walked through every hall on every floor, listening to the blaring televisions or fighting couples as he went. Nothing new though. He reached the roof at around 5:45. He stood gazing out over the city, the slum, the prison. He walked through the modest garden and the birds in their cages. Old, old, old. Aaron went down the stairs, taking two at a time. He felt like he should be in a rush to get somewhere, even though he had spent his entire day meandering around familiar places. The lights went out, accompanied by seveal screams and shouts. Someone was cussing at the blank television screen. Other rooms were strangely quiet. Aaron didn't stop to listen. Down, down, down. Until he reached the cold outside, with its snow and its grime. He was running now. Back to the church. Breathing hard, he reached his room with a feeling of anticipation. He hadn't even bothered to tell the priest hello. Aaron plopped down on his mattress, and proceeded to do... nothing. Again. A wave of disappointment drifted over him. He felt something crawl over his foot, but he didn't really care. It wouldn't be there tomorrow, and he guessed that that was what he was waiting for. Tomorrow.

Number 1

Aaron lived in a church. It was not a large church, or very popular church. It was old, small, and extremely catholic. It was inhabited by Aaron and one extremely old priest, who had committed his life to the church during the great depression, when things seemed to be bad and getting worse. This part of town was Irish, and the church had all of the answers, even when half the parish got laid of. So at the age of 18, in 1935 he enlisted into the holy army. And now, at the age of 92, his world was old and decrepit. The statue of the holy virgin was so dirt encrusted that the graffiti itself was masked. The once totally Celtic community was now a multicultural melting pot of atheism, agnosticism, Taoism, Buddhism, and, just, in general, non-catholicism. It had gotten up and walked away from him, and, in a type of bitter anger, he had stormed away as well. He had gotten up, looked around, yelled: "Fine, I don't like you either! I'm leaving too!" Then, he had proceeded to stay in the exact same spot, a relic of of the past precariously preserved in the ancient church. In short he was a bitter old celibate priest who obviously loved everyone and forgave the sins of those elderly who had sat beside him.
Aaron loved to watch him. Loved to see the rituals he stuck to week after week, loved to see his anger at the streets, loved to see his brooding silence. He loved it when the man yelled at him and loved it even more when the priest pretended to ignore his presence. He was a character, and Aaron loved characters. They made the world much more interesting.
Not that Aaron had had much time to observe such behaviors. He had only been in town for a couple of weeks or so. He had seen the church, and decided that it might be an alright place to live. He had convinced the priest to allow him to stay. During his residence, he had attended the Sunday mass. On one notable day, he had doubled the priest's audience. It wasn't that Aaron was Catholic. It was more like he knew what he liked, and the church had caught his eye from a mile away.