A Document Extracted From The Portal. Possibly The Second Chapter Of A Book.

“Ok. What the hell?” I thought as I pushed the hazy glass door of the convenience store open and walked inside.

My carefree stroll and my presence in the present were no more. I now thought to myself, “Where am I? Is the fruit not edible here? Do I look dirty? What has happened?”

Confused by the current situation, I took the man’s advice. I grabbed a donut, a candy bar and headed to the soda section. Before making it five steps, I tripped quickly catching my balance. I looked back to see that the corner of one of the tannish brown vinyl floor tiles had folded over on itself grabbing at my toe as I passed.

I squinted trying to see into the refrigerator. The dull florescent light above the display hissed and flickered. This, coupled with the dew on the inside of the refrigerator door, made it difficult to see the labels on the beverages. “Um. Green,” I thought, only being able to distinguish colors. I opened the door and grabbed a lukewarm, “Green drink,” out of the room temperature refrigerator, catching a whiff of what can only be described as sour milk. The soda bottle stuck to my hand. I looked and saw brown syrupy drip lines running down the side of the bottle.

I walked to the counter. “Good Morning,” I said to the woman on the other side. She was a black woman about 30 years old. She had beautiful brown braids with tints of either silver or white weaved in. They were tight on her head and were pulled back in a pony tail. She chewed gum. She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head forward once in acknowledgment of my comment, never once looking at me. Instead she moved her gaze from her phone, to the counter, to my products.

“Should I tell her that her hair is beautiful,” I wondered. “No. Don’t do that. She doesn’t want to be bothered.”

She said something to me. I couldn’t make it out through the half inch thick glass between us. “What was that?” I asked, moving my ear closer to the small communication hole. At least I assumed that’s what it was, even though it appeared to be clogged up with some sort of round metal device with paper thin slits.

“Maybe the slits help project the volume?” I thought, but probably not.

“Bag.” She said.

I looked at her. “What?” I quickly asked, before turning my ear to the hole thinking I had misheard.

“Bag.” She said again.

I looked at her. She finally looked up at me. “Come on! You want a bag or what man?” She snapped at me.

“Oh. Uh sure. Thanks,” I said. Thinking she must be having a bad day, I added, “I love your braids. They’re beautiful.”

“You trying to flirt with me? Why don’t you just pay for your things. Eight dollars.” I only had three and some change.

“Eight? I only have three.” She just stared at me. After about six seconds of awkward silence and staring, I said, “I’ll just take the donut.”

We exchanged money. She gave me a large plastic bag, which I placed my donut, which was already in a much more appropriately sized small plastic bag, inside of.

“Maybe don’t forget your credit card next time fancy man. Who do you think is gonna put this all back,” She added as I made my way out. For some reason, that comment made it through the metal filter hole much clearer than the previous.

“Thank you,” I remarked and pushed out the door.

Note: It Is Possible That This Document Is Related Chronologically To, “1. A Walk In The Park,” A Document Extracted From The Portal.

  1. #HVMXNBYND #Book #Blog #Portal

A Poem Or Song Lyrics Extracted From The Portal.

Birds flyin now 

I’ll tell you how I feel

I drink a coffee

But the coffee isn’t real

I’m grinning now

But the feelings are not real

I’m overjoyed and devoid

This onion needs a peal 

Appealing to the masses 

Lost in the translation

My mind is an antenna 

I’m lookin for a station

Radio on 

Fill up and then I’m gone

Then it’s back to sit at home 

Watch the tv what is on 

#HVMXNBYND #Poem #Poetry #Lyrics #100DaysToOffload

A Document Extracted From The Portal.

It was All Hallows’ Eve in the desert. The full moon would be visible by night.

When I saw the lizard filling the gas cans, I knew we were close. He filled the final can and placed it into the open trunk. There were 3 total. SLAM. I waited until he disappeared into the opening in the wall of dust, the mouth of the desert.

I proceeded on a slightly different course, of course. The portal was discovered at noon. Better yet, the key, which hung next to a stone angel, was obtained at noon exactly. The key was the portal, but the note, which contained only a name and a number, told me the treasure waited on the island. I collected the key and drove east.

A 3 or 5 day journey: the path was simple, though the journey was treacherous. Things would grab and pull at me the entire way. It was somewhere near the arch where my battle would occur. Kicking and screaming, I was drained. Beyond my survival, that story contains no further significance.

I knew I had reached the island when I came to the bridge. It hung over a marsh, the likes of which I had never seen, and a beetle, about the size of my hand, fingers included, hung above the bridge. The beetle, unusually large, was enshrined in pure gold. Frozen in stillness, his buzz still hung in the air.

Proceed to the cabin and unlock the door. Use the key. The key is the portal.

The key made a sliding noise as the locking mechanism was rolled to the left before, “CLOCK,” the bolt removed itself from the equation. ENTER.

I entered the cabin. One room. Wooden floor. White walls. Sun lit. And a treasure chest.

It sat in the center of the room. I collected the chest. Holding it in my hands, thick black ink leaked from the cracks between the wooden pieces that assembled the container. Soon my hands were covered. The ink dropped from my hands onto the previously pristine floor. A puddle formed around my feet.

Excessive amounts of black ink pooling around me. I began to sink. I opened the chest. I stared inside. It’s contents clean, no signs of the black ink.

When I looked up, the shine was bright, and it was hot. Sand now replaced the ink puddle where I stood. Furthermore, it extended further than I could see in every direction.

The key is the portal; I was now uncertain what side of the portal I existed in. I would hang the key next to the portal and I would return with the chest.

NOTE: The document, “Black Paint Drippin,” another document extracted from the portal, contains similar mentions of a black ink/paint like substance.

#HVMXNBYND #100DaysToOffload #shortstory #Blog #BlackPaint #Portal

A Document Extracted From The Portal.

The black ink drips down. The ink drips through. 

The NoBodies

Have you ever stepped:

BYND the limitations 

BYND the stress

BYND the truth’s devious lies

BYND reality

Where do you end up?

Reality speaks: “That was never me. That was chains and prisons. This is me.”

The future sings songs of the present. Dance lightly. BYND the melodies, the past is heard screaming warnings of its imminent death. Pleading or rejoicing?

The Past and Future Battle. Battle to integrate or battle to eliminate? The present standing in stillness. The gatekeeper and the bridge. What happens when the present allows? 

The past and the future colliding. 

#HVMXNBYND #Blog #Poetry #Thoughts

A Document Extracted From The Portal.

I lay in a blissful slumber.





I hit the ground with a force so powerful, I was nearly certain I had arrived in the form of a comet, hurling with the power of 10,000 years of life weight into the hard barren landscaped of this deserted land.

Even given the treamendous force of my cosmic impact, more painful was the suddenness of it all.

One moment. 

Entangled in the loving beauty of nothingness. 

The next.

Cast into her furocious depths.

A smoldering wasteland of hot clay and vastness.

Her piercing golden talon the only reminder of her powerful presence.

Note: Another Mention Of The Desert, A Theme Among Many Of The Documents Extracted From The Portal. Is This An Arrival Story?

#HVMXNBYND #Desert #Blog #Portal #100DaysToOffload

A Document Extracted From The Portal.

It has been 5 years since I left the glass house. The wolves waiting, watching. Never would they expect such an opportunity. They had accepted a life of waiting. Their hunger staring through the translucent barrier.

As I stepped out, they attacked. Other occupants had followed me through the front door, stopping within the safety of the porch. They cast stones and cast words against my back.

The wolves pulling, ripping, devouring. It had been ages since such an opportunity was given them. Ripping, shaking, and blood covered, they would run off in ravenous delight before fully finishing the deed.

I would crawl. A hole would provide refuge. A hole is where I would wait. And wait I would.

Now is the return. The wolves crouch at my approach. The fiery energy about screams, “Bite and you shall burn.” They understand. They wait.

The glass homes stand side by side. Visually, not much has changed. Same people occupy the same space, yet something is different. The comfort of the home, a trap in the face of fear.

Whispers of a changing world. A change not worth facing to some. They remained in their comfort, never again leaving. Doors sealed. They sat waiting.

When the first eyes fell upon my approach, all became aware. They stood staring through the glass. My curiosity and survival was a threat to the stories that preserved their existence.

They began to cast their words. Silent mouthings through muted glass. Simultaneously, the words echoed throughout their structures. As their hate returned, it struck their eardrums with a thunderous boom. The sharp burning pain made them angry.

They gripped their stones from inside their fortress. All at once, they cast the stones from within.

With that, their fear born ignorance stopping short of its target, crashing into the glass walls of protection. Crash, the glass fell like rain.

They stared. The wolves stared.

Fear strengthens the brave.

Fear devours the fearful.

Wolves will eat.

#HVMXNBYND #Wolves #ShortStory #Fear #Poetry

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