Love has mysterious ways – swoops gallantly with unforeseen magic, hides behind timid innocence, ebbs and flows, sometimes frustrates and confuses. The Warrior knew this but had lost his powers, worn thin by many battles.

When he told her he was trying, really he was trying to find his strength again. But damned if others, victims of their own bitterness and wallowing in resentment, would dare to poison the future, whatever it held in its enigmatic hands; time and space were mere puppets amid hyperactive fingers that flipped them around endlessly at will.

The sharp pains in his chest slowed his breathing. He wandered aimlessly through the village in the middle of the night, aching to see her and caution her on some people’s ulterior motives. But he had to respect her space during this time of separation, hoping and praying they would not inflict permanent damage. He had to trust her heart, no matter the cracks and pain it bore at this time, caused by him in the first place. Some people in the village were talking about it, judging his actions, and they had every right to protect her. But they did not know what he was going through, and there were moments when he was lost for answers; sadly, he knew this confused her, left her feeling like an outsider. But it was she who mattered most not them, even if he had not openly honoured that.

His stride was heavy and slow, unlike his confident gait of not so long ago but oh so far away. He struggled not to let the weight of the wait cause his knees to give in, sluggishly allowing his positive emotions to surface.

“Wash over me,” he told himself, “Wash over me and help me find myself again. Purge what is draining me and heal what is wounded, keep what is real and remove the layers of deceit that others have planted through their own insecurities. Lead me to that stable ground where the trees grow close enough to protect each other from the harsh winds of change, but far apart enough not to suffocate each other’s growth.”

He reached the water, his trusty companion in times of strife, and he listened to the voice of his reflection in the liquid mirror as its ripples hypnotised him into focus, “Embrace the recent faults you have been trapped by, because they serve as reminders you of who you are when you are at your best, when you are able, when the worries of the world are not capable of breaking your foundations, and you hold your power in both hands and lay it before her with quiet confidence to share and find her own strengths as well when they are low. This is the quality that has always made you stand out from the rest, and this is what has suffered the most hardship of late. Remember that when people say ‘Love is everything,’ it really does mean everything… it is the soft touch of her skin as she rolls into your arms in the morning, it is the sand that gets in your eyes and blinds you, the ocean that takes you far and wide into unimaginable places, an emotional kaleidoscope of possibilities. The soft breeze that cools you from the scorching heat of passion, the desert rose you almost overlooked in your exhaustion after so many battles. Too vulnerable to honour the most important element of life, too caught up in life itself to take time for true healing after every campaign.”

The Warrior was finally waking from deep emotional slumber, and when he finally rested his head on his pillow that night with renewed peace and resolve, he lay his hand on his heart and prayed that all was not lost.

The wind ushered past their mingled bodies – pushing them closer together, further apart; twisting the branches they clung to so delicately. This time, none fell. These were the first winds of autumn, and all but one had chameleoned into a pale gold.

The wind struck again. Three fell silently, landing several meters away, where they dangled for a moment before being swallowed by a hungry bush.

Only one survived. Even through winter.

Spring returned, and while new ones grew, the sole survivor told tales of that devastating autumn.

Then, one day, after the tree had regained its beautiful green overcoat, and all its new occupants were aware of the dangers to come, the one that had survived it all came to its timely end, falling calmly onto a bed of flowers.

Tree II

I guess my feathers are just as delicate as the leaves on that tree. They seem to hold better in strong winds though.

Every morning this past autumn, I watched the tree opposite mine lose its leaves. There was only one diehard.

I went away during winter – a little too cold for my likes in this region this time of year.

When I returned late spring, the tree was a happy shade of green again. Except for the diehard leaf, which had aged. It seemed to have been waiting for something. For what, I wouldn’t know; I’m an owl, not a leaf.

It fell from the tree this morning. Made me a little sad. Makes me wonder when I’ll fall off my tree.

Copyright © 2002 by Karin Pinter

The candle flickered, gasped, died in the stiff night.

Such things, happening the way they do, send us into a frenzied panic or a paused frenzy. I opted for the latter.

I’d waited long for her return after our sudden parting.

“Mother,” she said.

I smiled at my daughter’s ghost.

Copyright © 2001 by Karin Pinter

   Resolution was born after Promise, son of Faith and Determination.  They were all noble and admirable in their own ways, but Resolution was jealous, short-tempered, and misleading.  He wanted to be revered as much as his brother but was always overshadowed by Promise’s achievements, and greatly resented this.  Everyone believed in Promise – he who fulfilled all his vows had won great respect from the populace over the years. Resolution knew he was not strong enough to overthrow Promise, so he decided to simply be his brother’s downfall, to the eventual detriment and sacrifice of what little power he did enjoy.

   One winter, during the season’s festivities, Resolution was introduced to Deception – one of his brother’s greatest enemies.  Together, they devised a plan to blacken Promise’s reputation. Resolution was not only immature at this time, but also very naïve.

   They chose the last day of the year to begin their coup.  While everyone was celebrating and becoming more inebriated, Deception and his friends spread the word that tonight was the best night to make a solemn self-commitment, to be carried out throughout the year.  It would be called the New Year’s Resolution, in honor of Promise’s brother.  At first, people were not convinced.  They knew Resolution to be a cheat, and did not wish to honor such a being, but as the alcohol went down faster and their senses became numb to intuition they fell prey to brainwash. 

 “Resolution is a changed man,” they were told, “And he wishes to mark the day of his reform with the populace as a sign of unity and friendship.  This vow he makes tonight with all of you present, he encourages you to undertake as well.  Make yourselves a deep and honorable commitment.  Anything, as long as you go through with it all the way.”

   The populace became intoxicated with this innovative concept, and was fervently enthused with the idea of setting a goal for itself – after all, the beginning of a new year was a perfect opportunity to mark the beginning of a new life. They began to embrace Resolution and invite him to their homes.

   However, Deception had his own plans to undermine everybody including Resolution, and as the months passed he transformed into dreams that eased into people’s minds while they slept.  He merged with their thoughts of a better tomorrow, and implanted seeds of his own self that would grow in short and pollute their unsuspecting minds, allowing Doubt to take control.  Little by little, they would stop pursuing their dreams and give up on their resolutions.

   With time, this affected their belief in making promises to themselves and others, and ultimately, they lost their faith in the promises of others.

   They became bitter, shunning Promise and his parents. Resolution realized what had happened but was nowhere to be seen by then.

   Trust – Promise’s true love – was the next to fall.  Nobody wanted to deal with her anymore.  The act of promising implied the act of trusting, of believing.  When you no longer believe you can count on someone, you begin to lose your love for Life and Friendship and fall into the clutches of Depression.

   At this point, Hope and Conviction stepped in with their army.  They tracked down Resolution, who was in hiding with his new lover Cowardice.  These were taken to the House of Love for judgment, from which Cowardice was soon to escape.

 “You,” Love began, “Who have spoiled the happiness of so many with your lies and treachery in order to satisfy your ego; what have you to say for yourself?”

  Resolution remained silent.

 “You have dared to deny to others that which you have selfishly taken for yourself, put your whole family in disgrace and turned away from them without looking back. Now, the woman you have been with these past weeks has deserted you. I ask only this; what have you truly gained from it all?”

 “I only wanted people to look upon me as they did my brother,” he finally stuttered, having been struck hard by Cowardice’s move.

 “We all have a place and a part to play, and some of us play bigger parts than others do, Resolution. I know it is very hard to understand at times, but we have to learn to accept it.”

   Resolution was holding back tears of betrayal. His fists were clenched, and his pain grew larger than the House of Love, which covered the face of the earth.

 “You must tell the populace what you have done, and work to restore their faith in your brother and family. If not, you shall continue to suffer the consequences of your own machinations; not because I say so, but because you made it happen this way.  Do you wish to be alone and cheated, Resolution?”

 “No,” he faintly replied.

   The task was not as hard as they had at first imagined.  Presented with the facts, the populace seemed ready to believe Promise again, although they naturally chastised Resolution for instigating this sorry state of affairs.  Peace and harmony were eventually restored, but something else was brewing within Resolution’s soul and his conscience would not let him find peace or comfort.

*  *  *

   They found Resolution’s sandals at the edge of the tall bridge that led to the House of Love the following New Year’s Day.  Nobody will ever know if he jumped or faked his death and disappeared, but he was never seen or heard of again. Every year since then, in order to commemorate him and to renew their faith in themselves, people make their New Year’s Resolution, knowing that even if they don’t fulfill it they will still believe in Promise and Trust.

Copyright 2001

I fill your dreams with ambition. Charge your waking hours to fight mind-numbing routine. Colour your confidence to overcome the obstacles in your path.

My spark, my fire, my volcanic eruption in your essence – I am here for you always.

And yet you turn away from me…

You fall apathetic into lethargy, unaware that nobody is going to refund your yesterdays. You only remember me when faced with injustice, deafened by the roar of your conscience.

Placed under emotional arrest, I watch as you walk sullen and bewildered through life.

Then one day, you even started commiting crimes in my name.

I never meant to be destructive, but you have turned me into a scapegoat for the rage that fuels your negativity. The one that causes so many deaths, destruction, confusion. You misinterpret my nature, my raison d’etre. You charge against each other in religious delirium, lash out at one another during jealous fits that often lead to murder to defend your honour…

What is the honour in a crime of Passion, and how dare you use my name so insolently?

Members of the jury, this not a crime of Passion, it is a crime of Intolerance. Clear my name of this horror so that the world may know who the true criminal is.

And when you wake in the morning, think of me as I welcome you back from slumber.