Credit: John Martin (1789-1854) via WikiMedia Commons

Jared’s body ached.  His head pounded with the knowledge that he would never see her again.  Adrenaline pushed him to the brink.  He was going to jump.  There was nothing left of him now.  With a last breath, he leapt from the ledge of the building.  Wind pushed against him slowing his descent.  He cursed that wind.  He wanted death and he wanted it quickly. 


A strange light emanated around him.  Studying his surroundings, he found himself in a room amongst gnarled and twisted faces.  Their knot holes of eyes bore through him.  “Where am I?” He asked. In unison, crippled and curled hands all pointed to the wall with the bloody window.  Jared knew not what to make of the sight. 

Then he saw a woman.  It was her.  Daniela staring inward through the bloody panes.  Crying, she screamed for him.  He tried to run to the window, but found himself chained to the spot at which he stood.  He struggled to reach her.  He screamed for her, but no voice left his lips.  Pain seared his brain as he pulled against the chains. 

He needed to see her.  He needed to speak to her.  He needed her. 

After hours of seemingly endless struggle, Jared’s body became tired.  Every scream that left Daniela’s lips caused him physical pain.  It was torture.  He was being tortured for his act. 

She had died a natural death, but in taking his own life he was left to hear her screams for eternity.  The one thing that caused him pain would be the only thing that he would hear until the end of time. 

Jared laid down and stopped fighting.  He listened for her voice moment after moment.  His blood boiled with each note.  He slowly realized that he had been consumed by her.  That her existence had been the only thing that mattered and had he wanted to be with her again, patience would have served him best.  Tears fell as he realized his mistake. 

His body convulsed with sorrow and grief over their deaths and their il-lived lives.  Her screams continued to pierce him as he lay on the ground shaking violently.  Then, they stopped. 

There was silence. 

The bloody window where Daniela stood became clear and illuminated the room with butter-yellow sun.  Her face entered the window, smiling.  His pain left his body and serenity returned. 

Jared awoke from his dream aware of the way he was living his life.  He kissed Daniela’s picture on his bedside table and wearily started his day with the knowledge that everything would be ok…someday. 


What are your concepts of heaven and hell?  Do you think Jared would have been punished had he decided to take his own life?

© Tania Dakka and Chaotic Musing, 2011


Fighting Gnomes

I missed last Friday’s Flash, so here is my go for this Friday.  It is short and sweet.  Hope you don’t mind!  I couldn’t let another Friday go by, but there is MUCH to be done in the way of transforming some chaos around here!  Ok, enough of my chatter.  Here you go! 

The sunlight bathed the arena.  All gathered to watch the spectacle.  The crowd chanted, “Gnomes! Gnomes!  Gnomes!”  The song was loud and obtrusive for the gnomes about to entertain the world as they knew it.  They could procrastinate no longer.  It was time to amuse and abuse. 

Two gnomes dressed in the traditional garb of the time faced off as the crowd calmed to see the fight.  The tired, weary faces of the opponents suggested that it was time for a change.  But, who would be the one to stand in the face of the angry mob thirsting to see Gnome flesh ripped and torn apart?  Daisy would. 

She had enough and was willing to face her death in her stance.  She had seen her mother and father slaughtered sadistically by their brothers and sisters, but refused to let her own blood be shed or to shed that of her siblings.  She stood defiant.  No one had ever dared mock the angry crowd, but Daisy was ready to die for what she believed in.

“People!  People!  Listen to me!  We are all brothers and sisters here!  We have the same goals, the same dreams, the same hopes!  We all want the best of this life and of the next for ourselves and our loved ones!  Why tarnish the beauty of this life with sibling bloodshed?!” She shouted.  The mob began to quiet.  A calm murmur came over the crowd.  Were they really listening??  Daisy continued, “As Gnomes, we owe it to ourselves to strive for the best of this life by finding beauty and peace amongst ourselves!  We can struggle as we may to find that pot of nonexistent gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow or we can find peace in what we have now and be happy now!  Your perception determines your reality!  Perceive lightly!  Perceive happily!  Let your brothers and sisters live and perceive their own realities! 

“Will we always agree? NO!  But, that doesn’t have to effect our own outlooks!  We decide if we want peace and love or if we want hate and death!  What say you, Gnomes?  Are you ready to move on to a better life by giving up the savage ways of our ancestors?  We can create our Utopia here in GnomesLand, but we all have to want it.  Do YOU want it?!”

Silence blanketed the arena.  The Gnomes stared at each other.  The thought had never occurred to them to live peacefully and to give up the savage games.  Could they do it?  Would they do it?

Moments later, thunder rolled across the land, “FIGHT!  FIGHT!  FIGHT!”  They chanted over and over.  Daisy looked around in astonishment.  She had been certain that she had reached them, but now all she could see was black.  Her brother, her opponent, reached out and, with one blow, sideswiped her head with a wooden club.  “THAT’S for stealing my cars!” He shouted as she fell. 

The crowd erupted with pleasure.  A collective moan was released as Daisy’s bleeding body awaited the traditional torment and defacing that followed a death match.  The crowd had not heard Daisy’s cry for peace.  Save one little girl who would be forever inspired by the martyr.  She would carry the light of hope that Daisy set aflame.   The sparkle in her eye was her remembrance of the one who had dreamt a dream worth dreaming.

Love, love, love your thoughts, ideas, criticims!  What do you think of sibling death matches??  Should they be a form of entertainment for more than the Gnomes? 🙂 

By the way, thanks to @CraigWFSmith for sparking this idea for me!  Check out his great Flashes and his novel at !

© Tania Dakka and Chaotic Musing, 2011


Second Chance

Credit: Nicu Buculei and odder via Creative Commons

I wandered through the night alone.  Always alone.  Searching nightly for prey, feeding held nothing for me save nourishment.  The softness of this coat offered me nothing save warmth.  I longed for a time passed that gave me laughter, love, and life.  A time when it meant something to share  a meal with the man I loved.  His existence gave me reason for living.  Yet, one’s being should never be based upon that of another.  This was the proof.  However, this was beyond my control.  When souls connect, there is little that can be done to stop them. 

When Darren died, I lost myself.  His death left my soul as wounded as the prey that I stalk now.  Fatally.  The plan had been to end my suffering after months of trudging through and loathing my own existence.  The previous activities that seemed routine and monotonous, actually held more luster beneath than I had thought.  Sitting and drinking coffee had been just that.  Yet, when he was gone, the realization of what it actually was-sharing serene moments and connecting with love-hit hard.  Had I known what was happening, I would have looked beyond the mundane into the eyes of our souls. 

When I could no longer take it, I decided that life was not worth living alone and I knew no one could replace Darren.  Taking my own life had been the easy part.  It was the transformation from the earthly world into the world of the Middle.  I was in limbo.  I had wanted to die.  I wanted it to end.  Yet, here I was.  Stuck in a more baneful existence. 

Time passed.  How much, I had no idea.  But, with a heave and a push, my soul vibrated and moved through the eye of a needle.  Pain surfaced where once the hope of feeling had been lost.  I awoke to a new sound.  A new light.  The birds chirped happily through the woods.  The sun, a bright noon yellow, bathed me in warmth.  Too warm.  I looked down to find furry paws.  I hauled myself up wary of this odd new feel.  The lake offered a glimpse into who I had become. 

I was Wolf.  Dizzied from the truth of it all.  I laid back down to contemplate my new skin.  Sadness poured in.  Why was I being punished so?  Had Darren’s death not been suffering enough for me?  A hawk encircled me overhead.  Landing next to me, it spoke.  “This is your new world.  You are Wolf.  What you do with your second chance is up to you, but it serves you well to use it wisely.”  And away it fled.

Coming to grips with this knowledge held nothing for me.  Without Darren, I needed no new chances.  And here I am today…hunting and killing.  Loathsome of this being as I had been of the previous.  Then, I saw.  This one buck.  He was strong and beautiful.  I hungered for his flesh, although I wasn’t sure why.  I had never been so strongly bound to a meal. 

The chase broke. 

He was swift and cunning, but I was faster.  I pounced.  My fangs ripped into his flesh.  The taste of his blood rejuvenated me.  His power filled me.  I knew this feeling.  It was the feeling I felt every time Darren and I were together.  As I finished devouring the life force and musculature of this strong, comely creature, I felt empowered.  Refreshed and renewed.  Then, I heard it. 

His voice.  His soul.  The buck had been the carrier of Darren’s soul.  As my wolf form incorporated the meal into my being, we became one.  Two souls, one body.  Life was worth living again.


What are your thoughts?  Would you like to be one with your soul?

© Tania Dakka and Chaotic Musing, 2011


The crisp sunlight blinded me as I walked to class.  The freshness in the air filled my lungs and energized me.  The vibe of youth, courage, and education that only can be found on a college campus encompassed me.  I loved being there.  I never wanted to leave.  Education was my life. Lack of learning leads to stagnation.  Learning is life. 

Until I met him. 

Then, the world as I knew it changed. 

We were inseparable.  We arranged our classes together.  We lived and breathed each other.  Class became a passage of time.  A chance for us to pretend to be part of the outside world.  Or so I thought. 

Yet, we were on a path to self-destruction.  He stopped asking to see me every day.  He stopped yearning to be by my side as he had.  Now, he had turned cold.  He was ice.  His fire no longer burned for me.  The pain of that reality pushed me to the brink.  Why had he bothered with me?  Just to play a game?  How could anyone be so cold and cruel?  I was dying inside.  My education had suffered. 

My grades arrived at home as we returned for summer break.  Fail.  I failed my semester.  I wrecked my college career for the face of a boy who had not been worth the slime that flowed through streets into the sludge filled drains. 

With reckless abandon, I hit the road.  Top down, music blaring.  Yearning for solitude.  I longed for peace with what had become of my life.  A deer charged across the road.  Brakes locking.  Tires squealing on the blacktop.  I swerve.  Mistake.

My car upside down in the ditch, I now see things clearly.  I had allowed myself to be distracted.  To be a toy.  No chance left to go back to who I was.  Too late for regrets.  Too late for sorrow.    Now there is peace. 


What did you think?  Love it?  Hate it?  I love to hear your thoughts!  Leave your comments below:)  Oh, and I you would like, leave your link to your Friday Flash! 

© Tania Dakka and Chaotic Musing, 2011


Credit: Hamed Saber via Creative Commons

She wandered in the desert.  Hot.  Scorched.  Her skin cracked from heat and dehydration.  Rana no longer knew if she was alive or dead.  Dead, she thought.  She hoped.  The heat of this Hell was pressing her further into the sand. 

Crawling, the stinging sands scoured her body as she tried to pull herself to Steven’s body…whevever it was.  Salt entered her wounds.  Four days in the desert was the same as four hundred.  Rana searched for her lover.  The man that she knew was the other half of her.  The thieves of her heart killed him and threw his body to the vermin of the desert to be picked apart.  She wanted to take him back; to treat his dead body with respect.  The same respect with which he had treated her.  It was least she could do. 

When they threw her out of the car, they sent her west; knowing that she would wander aimlessly until the same fate befell her.  Her mind finally gave in.   The tears were no longer able to flow with her cries for her lover.  Her body had gone dry.  She wasn’t sure when.  Her wails for him didn’t, however.  Her love pushed her on through the dryness, through the pain that ripped through her as her skin cracked and the sands stung her until she had no more strength to move her forward.  Her mind and her heart seared for him, just as her skin had been seared by the sun. 

She lay in the sand awaiting death.  Welcoming it.  Yearning for it like she had once yearned for her lover. 

A noise.  A voice.

She couldn’t focus enough to know if it was a human voice or some animal screeching for her death so to feed on her already rotting flesh.  A shadow blanketed her in a moment of seeming coolness.  She couldn’t lift her head to see.  She didn’t care to see.  She knew her time had come.  This was the end.

She began to rise off the ground.  Something was moving her.  How unusual the softness she felt now.  The yang of the yin of the sand.  The stinging began to subside.  The biting sands no longer beneath her.  She was bouncing as she heard a rhythm being pounded.  Hooves?  She tried, but could not open her eyes to see.  Perhaps she was delirious.    Perhaps her brain sent her false hope.

All went black.  The sounds disappeared. 

When Rana opened her eyes again, her mind raced.  Panicked, she began searching for her lover again.  She found herself tethered to the bed.  The machines beeped out a rhythm each time the morphine dripped into the IV.  She tried to focus.  Still cloudy, the memories of the past week began to float back to her. 

When the nurse entered the room, Rana asked her where she was and how she got there.  As the nurse began to tell her, the doctor walked in.  The doctor. 

He had been the one to bring her to the facility.  His eyes.  His voice.  He reminded her of someone.  Who?  She thought and thought.  Her former lovers face came back to her again.  She leapt from the bed ripping the IV from her arm.  “Your face is exactly like his!  You sound like him!”  Her chest rose and fell quickly as she her breath raced to escape her. 

“Calm down.  You are not in a position to put your body through anymore than it already has been.  I am Steven’s brother,” he said trying to lead  her back to the bed.  “He and I have been apart for many years, but when I found out about what happened to you two, I knew I had to find you.  Please, you need to rest.  We have a lot we need to discuss, but it won’t be today.  You stay here and trust Steven, if you don’t trust me.”

Reluctnatly, Rana laid her head back on the pillow.  Oh, the downy of the pillow was heaven compared to the burning sands.  They gave her more med and she slept.

Days later, it seemed, she opened her eyes again.  The doctor came in again.  Startled by his uncanny resemblance still, she had to refrain from detaching herself from the IVs again.  He sat on the edge of the bed.  He began to tell her their story.  By the time he finished, her tears had returned and she asked for death.  She had no desire to live a life without Steven.  Sam refused her. 

Rana cried and begged, “Please put me out of my misery.  Take these damned IVs out!  I don’t want to live!  I want to be with Steven!” she cried.

“Then, stay with me,” he said. “I will love you and take care of you just like Steven did.”  His eyes bore holes in her just as his brother’s did. 

“NO!  I will have ONLY him!  No one can ever replace him!”  She leapt from the bed again.  Running from the room, she ran into a cart spilling plates upon plates.  The morphine still coursing through her veins, the pain had thankfully subsided enough to bolt herself down the hall.  She pushed through a door to take the stairs and a man was coming in as she was going out.  She pushed by him, but she fell. 

Rolling from step to step, her head bounced on the floor with each crash.  She lay motionless at the bottom of the flight.  The man standing above her said, “This is too easy.”  He put a bullet in her chest.  “Now, I can tell the boss you are done for sure, this time.” 

He tucked the gun back in his jacket and headed down and out.

Rana got what she wanted.  She had preferred death to life without Steven and now her life spilled from her body as her soul drifted out to find Steven.



I love to hear from you!  What did you think about this piece?  Good?  Bad?  Ugly?  Let me know!  Thanks in advance for reading and sharing! 

This is Flash Friday!  So feel free to leave your links to your own pieces in the comments, as well!

© Tania Dakka and Chaotic Musing, 2011