#ThursThreads Week 93 : It’s Beatiful, But It’s Flawed

The kid looked at his hand, and watched the blood leak from it. I’d tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened. This was Earth. The world of the humans. Where even the flowers were violent, and dangerous.

I laughed. “Careful, boy.” I pulled a strip of medical tape out of my pocket, and wrapped it around his finger.

“What happened?”

“The humans have a song. Says every rose has its thorn.” I carefully reached into the rosebush, and pulled the stem out into the open. “The song doesn’t lie.” He could see the stem, and the thorns spaced randomly around it. “This is a rose, kid.” I cut the stem, and pulled the rose bloom free, handing it to him.

He studied it. “It’s stunning.”

“Yeah. It is.” I sighed. “Every bit as beautiful as anything in the City of Gold.”

He nodded his head. “Look at the way it’s petals all wind together.” He ran his fingertips across the petals of the rosebud. “They feel like velvet, or silk.”

“They are one of Joshua’s most exquisite creations.”

The kid stared at it. “And yet, it’s filled with thorns.” The kid shook his head. “How? How can this be?”

“This is Earth. Where Lucien and the fallen live.” I looked up at the moon in the star filled sky. “Perhaps Joshua’s greatest creation.” I took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “It’s beautiful. But it’s flawed. It’s why Joshua trapped Lucien and the fallen here. On Earth.”

250 Words

I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 93. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

Criticise Me!

I do not pretend to be perfect.
I know the truth
That I am flawed.
That I’ve lost count
Of the flaws I have.
The number of times
That I’ve hurt other people.
When I never meant to.
When I never wanted to.
The number of tears
My friends have cried
Because of something
That I’ve said,
Or done.
That didn’t work at all
Like I thought it would.

So go ahead.
Criticize me.
Everyone always has.

But I have some things to say.
And I have some questions
I would ask.

Do you donate platelets,
Or whole blood
To the Red Cross?
Or Life South?
Do you?

I do.
And I have.
Since September 3rd
Of 2010.
I donate platelets.
Twice a month.
24 times a year.

I know how
To save someone else’s life.
Red Cross called me
Around 1400 hours.
And they asked if I could
Come in on Monday
And donate once again.

I told them yes.
So at 0830 hours
On Monday morning
I’ll be sitting in a great big chair,
With a tiny pipe
Sticking out of my arm.
And my blood flowing
Through an apheresis machine
Once again.

Do you have any idea
What chemotherapy does
To a person’s platelet count?
Do you know
That if a person
In chemotherapy
Gets bruised,
They could damn well
Bleed to death?

What are you?
A true coward?

I don’t care that it takes time.
I don’t care
That I loose 4 hours
Of my life
Twice a month.

I’m doing what I can
To save someone’s life!

It’s a need
That never goes away.
The need for blood.
The need for platelets.

I don’t understand at all
Why so many people that I know
That are more than physically able
To do what I do
Twice a month
Simply don’t.

Why is that?
Because it takes some time?
Because it’s inconvenient?
Because you have to drive
To the donation center?
Because everyone around you
Thinks you’re stupid
If you do that?

I don’t understand.
And I’m damn glad I don’t.

I’ll bet there’s more
That I do that you don’t.
I make a whopping
$12 an hour.
And on a good week at work
I get to work
For more than 20 hours.

Just rolling in the dough
Aren’t I?

There are more than 20 people
That I know.
Every face.
Every name.
I worked with them
For years.
Five days a week no less.

And several times a year
I take $20 or $30
Of the cash I make.
And I give it away.
To the Breast Cancer Society.

Damn, but it stings
To do that.
That’s two meals
For me,
And my lady
At Burger King.
That’s 3 meals
For my family
If we stay at home
And cook.

And I flat give it away.

I have nothing to say
About the people
I worked with.
Making $40 an hour
Or more.
And never giving one thin dime
To help another human being
Of any kind.

I flat don’t understand people.
And I’m damn glad that I don’t.

For as flawed as I am.
As many things
As I do wrong.

I’m glad I’m not like them.

So go ahead.
Criticize me.
Tell me all the ways
That I do things wrong.
Tell me how I never
In the way that I’m supposed to.

But until the day comes
When I see
That you have a heart and soul
That are still alive.
That I know
You are out there
In this life,
Trying to find ways
To help others
If you can.

I refuse to hear
One damn word you say.

Go ahead.
Criticize away.