“The Twist”

Nick desperately needed to figure out when “The Twist” began to unwind. It was the only way he could work his way out of this atrocious quagmire of self-incrimination he was drowning in. He knew one thing for sure, he was likely to be dead or incarcerated by the end of September. It was already July, and the prison was packed full of men who would gladly introduce Twisted Nick to the Grim Reaper. Nick “The Twist” Mason was no stranger to the cages reserved for people like him. He’d been in and out of jail cells often enough to find a certain comfort in the absolute security they offered. He used the long hours of seclusion to work out the next twist he would need to perform. You see, Nick had earned the nick-name he was allotted. He’d earned it the honest way, through the plots and mind games he had been conjuring since he was toddling around with drool dripping off his chubby chin. He’d always lit up whenever the others would refer to him as “The Twist”, because he was a proud Practitioner of Manipulative Manifestations. He had earned his PhD in P.M.M. while working the streets of Boston, with occasional sabbaticals to the Cape, when the city was too hot to handle. Now he was hanging at the end of his twisted rope which was not only unwinding, but fraying in a way he never even imagined it could.

Superb magicians are we. Illusionists working our potent spells on the unsuspecting victims we call our friends and family. Being present and living in the moment requires transparency in motive and intent. Personally, I look to inner guidance for the way to express that transparency in my daily affairs. As for Nick, only time will tell…