Dustin Jones's Blog

Don't be afraid to take chances; learn from your mistakes. Rebel against what you think is right; what society tells you is right, and learn your own truths. Experience your life for what it is, not what you wish it was, or what others tell you it should be. Live your life to the fullest, the way you want to; get a tattoo; dye your hair green; pierce your ears, your tongue, your nose; eat what you want whenever you want; write a book; paint a masterpiece; sky dive; base jump; swim with sharks; travel the world, see our little blue dot for the magnificent beauty that it is. There's nothing quite like it in the universe; just like you. No one lives forever, no one worth living ever said "I wish I had done that." They went out and did it. You can't carry your life to the grave, only your body, so do yourself a favor; be free and do not be afraid to live.

So much depends on the clouds that hover above your head,
So much so,
They're covered in dread.
So much depends on the observer,
What do you see?
What do you wish and pray and yearn to see?
What beauty is this?
With gray hair and white eyes,
What do you see?
The clouds high above your head,
Etched forever into the infinite dark blue murderous sky,
Lightening crashes,
Thunder rolls,
Tears rain down from the heavens,
and you say,
So much depends on the clouds.

"Do you still think of me?" I ask her.
"Sometimes," she says. "When thunder rumbles in the clouds and lightening pierces the sky. Sometimes I weep and sometimes I smile, but most nights I weep because the memories of you slowly slip from my mind."
"Then why won't you stay with me? Come home and we will share eternity together," I plead.
"We can't. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fate has a funny way of doing that."
The lights kick back on from the power loss caused by the storm raging outside, and I look across the emptiness of the bathroom at the reflection of myself in the water-stained mirror.
"Let go." I hear her whisper.
"I'll never see her again." I croak.

As I lay still in bed, under layers of thin sheets, I wonder what my dog is growling at.
I hear no noise, but the faint whirl of wind pushing dried leaves across the side of the house.
I hear it now; the scratching noise the stiff stems make as they are dragged ruthlessly across the wooden foundation of the house..
What I believe to hear.
What I perceive to be.
A sudden knock rattles the screen that separates the window from the wicked ways of the outside world.
My dog jumps and lets out a quiet whimper.
A high pitched whine sneaks its way up her throat and into the still air of the bedroom.
Then silence.
A frightful, awful silence.
The window in question is to my right, about waist high, no more then five feet from where I lay shaking in my bed.
I can feel eyes on me.
Penetrating, evil eyes.
I steal a glance towards the window and see it.
Them.
Two bright floating red eyes.
Peering in at me.
Waiting ...