A Day in the Life of Jerry Gaskill

    I sat lonely (as usual) on my porch. Lonely is a relative term that seems to apply itself in every situation. I was pondering the reality of where and who I actually am. I’ve traveled the world. I’ve seen much of what many can only dream. I’ve created an emblem that has risen, propelled only by the source of this empty, cracked shell of where I am housed, to display it prominently above and slightly ahead of each road I choose to wander upon. I closed my eyes allowing myself to relax. Oh, the blackness that both severs and reveals simultaneously. In the distance and to the left I hear the sweet, frightened cries of what I’m thinking is a delightfully beautiful young girl running desperately down a deserted street, terror echoing with every footstep. I myself become frightened. I open my eyes. I am no longer on my porch. I am the stalker. I am the madman pursuing this delightfully beautiful naked girl down this path of terror. She’s wearing only an ankle bracelet of tiny roses with thorns made of razor sharp diamonds that cause blood to trickle down upon her lovely left foot with each horrifying step she takes. With each step I take I recognize myself less and less as though I’m quickly becoming something other than the self I know. I can’t control it. I begin to not want to control it. Visions and ridiculous conversation with myself concerning how and what I will do with this innocence once I capture her become my life force. I’ve been overtaken by this enchanting evil, if indeed that truly be what it is. At this point I don’t care. I belong now to its inviting grip and find myself relieved that I no longer have to contend with being me. Is this the path I’ve desired for years unending? Let it be I scream. LET IT BE. Suddenly the sky breaks open and through this monumental crack I see a preposterous whirlwind of many colors flailing and waving and hurling its contents straightway toward my lovely victim. The colors form into fabric and begin to reveal themselves as the flags of every civilized nation on earth. Relentlessly and with supreme purpose they forthwith commence to wrap themselves one by one around her sweet innocent body transforming her into a single solid nation of every woman. In my crazed unknowing of myself I plunge forward to take hold of any element of this magnificent confusion. Immediately I am caught up in the original whirlwind transferring me upward to the skies, flags flying every direction, embracing, releasing me, cutting and scraping as loud thunderous peals of laughter shout condemnation and salvation concurrently, carrying me hopeless and helpless through this ever increasing coffin of relentless perplexity. For miles and years it seemed I now had been captured by the innocence that I had surrendered myself to entrap with no reasonable reason to pursue such an absurd undertaking, when all of a sudden I feel the monstrous arms of the twister wrap themselves around my head and hurl me like a rag doll back to the solid, familiar earth. I lie there, especially afraid now to open my eyes. Finally I did. Above me, with one leg firmly positioned on either side of my seemingly lifeless body, there she stood beautiful, naked, smiling holding high above her head a glorious spear engraved microscopically and beyond in all languages , every thought and dream, fear and joy, simply all that made me me, ready to finish me off. Somehow I was able to comprehend the engravings on this extremely obscure instrument of death. "Hello," she said as she at once plunged perfectly and decisively the spear straightway into my heart. The blood of my body and myself shot forth as if a massive dam had abruptly burst; thick Red Ocean of life released. Carried along with its flow left and right, above and behind, episodes of my existence appeared familiar and unfamiliar consoling and reassuring me at every spectacle, bringing me closer and closer to the very me that had just recently been lost. But wait…Where is she? Where has she gone in the midst of this ghastly extrusion from myself to myself away and back to nothing to everything forward sideways up and down through painstaking illusions of black and color and scenes of unknowable knowledge as I drift through this sea of blood all caused by her? I needed to see her. I had an irresistible desire to sit with her on a Jersey beach on a perfect Jersey day as only Jersey can provide waves softly crashing, the tide periodically creeping its way up almost to where we sit then scurrying back to join its home body of endless wonder; sun shining, gentle breeze relieving the heat bringing with it that Jersey aroma that assures me I am where I should be. I just wanted to talk; ask her why she is and where she’s from, to give me a clue as to how or why I could have experienced this inequitable bewilderment of which I realize I am still a part. Yes, I’m on that beach now, albeit alone. I’m accepting now that my reality has no link or common thread connecting to the typical human experience that allows us to wake and sleep, to perform and function regardless of the insanity that sometimes appears lurking around every ordinary corner we approach. I sit lonely (as usual) on my beach. A constant churning pain in my heart as if an incessant reminder of the never ending list of duties and responsibilities I am required to achieve, rising from within encircling and swirling about me like a tornado with lines extending in every direction with the words not accomplishable written on each and every line. I pray not to exist. I wish never to have been born. Each sound produced by this swirling hysteria penetrates and annoys me even more deeply, reinforcing this pain, prodding and poking me along to confirm with even greater despair my very wish. Abruptly, with unimaginable force, as if the vacuum of the universe I am sucked promptly through the sand straightway to the nether regions of my ever expanding fear. Downward, downward I am plunged further and further by this maddening vortex; blackness and a sense that I will never of course return to any real semblance of normalcy. When suddenly I am again, by what feels like the same arms as the upward vortex gripped like a vice on either side of my head and hurled forthwith onto a huge bed covered with thorns and reeking with the stench of much urine. I lay there on my back, arms and legs stretched in spread eagle position while invisible cords studded with small shards of broken glass tie me securely to the posts of this bed of apparent rape. Slowly the vortex hands begin to gently remove my clothes leaving me entirely naked and vulnerable. I hear whispers of crazy laughter growing louder and more distinct with each passing second. I see devilish creatures beautiful and horrendous flying in from every direction lining up single file directly in front of me, each one with a word of condemnation written plainly on their forehead. I realize I am to be raped by my very fear. I think, "Just like a woman to seduce me then leave me broken as she thoughtlessly skips off into realms of her own self-seeking schemes. But wait! In the distance I see running desperately unharmed alongside this ever increasing crew of fiends with only one purpose, that being to rescue me, it’s her, naked and beautiful powerful and kind. She reaches the bed exactly as the first devil is to perform his despicable deed of penetrating assault. She is able to place herself on top of me thwarting the absolute intentions of my first attacker. She turns her head slightly toward the evil crew. At once all scatter as if they are now consumed by the very fear of their own intentions. Instead of impending rape I am now to be caressed and soothed with loving consummation. She leans forward to gently kiss my naked chest. As she approaches I suddenly hear more clearly and comforting than anything I thought I’d ever hear again, the words:

"Hey Dad…when’s dinner gonna be ready?"

I open my eyes. I’m on my porch and I think, "Oh, that’s reality…"