The stains upon the window were everlasting
The dirt stained like a scar upon skin
My sorrows were forever
And are starting to begin
Again
The touch of rain upon the face
Walking evermore in the shadow
We will never find our own place
On this ground, forever hallowed
Poets die and writers fade
But billionaires have it made
Remember, if anything more
Only you can remember them
Lock and Key
Set and stone
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Chopped
I was a local food reviewer located in the small town of Winston Salem, NC. I reviewed all kinds of places to eat. My favorite however, were barbecue restaurants. North Carolina is home to the best barbecue in the world..chopped barbecue. Coated in mayonnaise slaw, chopped pork shoulder and some dip was the best thing in the world to me. My favorite places was Mr. Barbecue, off of Silas Creek Parkway. I went there so frequently they always knew what I wanted. They used oak wood in their smoke pit, something that was a nice touch ever since they began. The waittresses were always nice, but there was always one who was extra nice. Her name was Stephanie, and she was auburn curly hair, a beautiful figure, and a smile that would melt Dr. Doom's face off. She had the whitest teeth, full lips, and small dimples on her smile. She was 21 years old, I learned, from our talks at night. It was usually dead around eight o' clock, and we would sit in the corner booth and talk. I hadn't ever had a girlfriend when I was in school, and she made me really nervous. Being a food reviewer I moved around a lot, here and there working jobs at restaurants to keep my rent alive. I drove a terrible 97 Corolla, the carpet upon the roof was falling down, and my hair would be static after a ride through town. She always called me Fro, because my hair would be standing up. I hated my name, so I didn't care if she called me this. It was better.
Weeks passed along, and as we talked more and more we became closer. I thought about her every day and when we weren't together I got depressed.
It was sometime in May when I drove by, I had a special gift. I had went to Helzberg Diamons at Hanes Mall the night before, bought a simple diamond ring. And by simple, I mean barely a ring. I knew she probably wouldn't be impressed, but I loved her and it felt right. We had been talking for years, and gone on a few dates.
I walked in, the smell of that barbecue making my mouth salivate. She was already waiting in our booth, with my tray of food waiting. I was so nervous. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. She sat down, and I kneeled. She began crying, and I was confused. Everything went through my mind, she didn't want me, I was a freak, what have you. I pulled out the little box, with that tiny little ring, and popped it out.
"Stephanie," I asked. My legs were rubber and I felt nauseous, I was going to pass out. "You are the sunshine that makes flowers grow. You make me feel like I only matter when I'm with you. Will you make me eternally happy?"
Time slowed down. Tears strolled down her face, and I began crying too. I knew the answer.
"Scott...you are the light that points me forward. I would gladly marry you, with all my grace and beauty."
I was sobbing now. Everything was fine. Everything, was good.
I took her hand and walked her outside. Stephanie was blind at birth, and I wish she could have seen my happiness. She put her hands on my face, the tears soaking her hands.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Blast from the past
I wrote this a couple months ago, inspired by HP Lovecraft, a horror writer
The day started off slow, if anything.
It had been raining the last 2 weeks, nonstop. The drainage systems had all but failed, and most of the school systems had canceled for and undetermined amount of time. Being mid-harvest, the rains had ruined any thought of food coming in, and my friend and I had transformed into a state of starvation far beyond and human comprehension. That is why we decided to go on this terrible errand.
My friend was known by most as Samuel, but to me he was always something else; something unfamiliar and scientifically advanced. It does not need a name to describe someone as hideously involved in science as he was. But after the rains came and the starvation kicked in, well…he changed.
Something about his demeanor changed along with his personality. After we had gone to the military checkpoint to get fresh water (the city had cut off all sewage and water facilities-they had all but overflowed) and our local news. Propaganda as usual, the old “stick together and you’ll make it” type of reading. Well on this particular day Samuel had decided to take me to some strange hideout of his-something he called “the tower.” It was a few miles off, and we might not make the trip back. “Suits me.” I told him. We would probably die of starvation in a few days anyway, why not make a trip out of this terrible hellhole.
We packed what we could, a sleeping roll, a few quarts of water, and for me the only picture of my daughter I had managed to survive after the Doom.
The trip was rancid and mediocre. The rains had ruined the entire topsoil of this Earth, it was as manual and toiled as walking on snow with no boots on. The infection of the feet had killed thousands, at least that was what the news had told us.
Among some miracle we made it to the pathetic soppy mound about 2000 feet above sea level. The view was anything other than amazing-it allowed one the melancholy view of our town, grey and unchanging as ever. The checkpoint lights were the only sign of any electricity, after the riots about a quarter of the population had been gunned down. That left about 200 people, and after the infections and starvation I could hardly wonder why we never saw anyone on the walk to our water rations.
The tower was in pathetic shape. Dilapidated and falling into pieces, it was a small wonder the poor thing had been vacant since before I was born. Samuel reached into his pocket and found the keys, opened the lock, and pushed the diseased door open.
What I saw at this point is almost impossible to describe. The things I remember after this are all very hard to remember, but I will try to recount them.
Sitting on all the walls of this monstrosity were small cages, about 5 feet in height, rusty and brown. Inside them-dear God-inside them were humans but they were not….they could not be…
Inside them were human beings-but they were anything but. They had descended…descended to some devilish primeval animals. They sat atop chains inside the cages, they had extraneous limbs that allowed them to crawl up almost anything.
One detail I can describe perfectly- in the center of this hell was one big cage, but covered by a giant cloth. I could never have wanted to see that…I DID NOT. I DID NOT WANT TO SEE IT!
But Samuel made me…he pulled the curtain and I saw it.
Straight from whatever hell from whatever religion you believe in…this terrible sin sat inside, hundreds of humans, like jelly, all melted together, oh God the moans and screams they made…
Can you imagine it? Thousands of men, women, children, Demons I tell you! Only Satan himself could have made something this ghastly…BUT there it was! Right in front of me! You cannot call me mad…this was real, REAL I TELL YOU!
The beast moaned and cried…babies sobbing, men crying, limbs poking out every which and where, this gore pit of monsters could actually move, sliding across the cage and grasping at various bars of the cage.
“Samuel!” I cried. “What have you done?”
“Only God’s willing, dear. Now, you must join them. Come. It will not hurt. You will not even be yourself. All that is evil will be gone.”
“Fuck you!” I Cried, running for the door, but before I could reach it one of the freaks from the smaller cages had already grasped me with tens of hands-the HORROR. THE SHEER HORROR of those limbs grabbing at me, pulling me towards Samuel.
“Now do you see God’s true will child? Do you see what He wants?”
When I woke up, something felt different. Something…something had grown onto me. You see, I actually feel much better. The limbs…they make me feel stronger. This mound of bodies makes us ALL stronger!! All my friends are with me now. Together we will show all of Earth and the Universe what we want! PRAISE SAMUEL! PRAISE HIM! LAUDETUR SALVATOREM!!
The day started off slow, if anything.
It had been raining the last 2 weeks, nonstop. The drainage systems had all but failed, and most of the school systems had canceled for and undetermined amount of time. Being mid-harvest, the rains had ruined any thought of food coming in, and my friend and I had transformed into a state of starvation far beyond and human comprehension. That is why we decided to go on this terrible errand.
My friend was known by most as Samuel, but to me he was always something else; something unfamiliar and scientifically advanced. It does not need a name to describe someone as hideously involved in science as he was. But after the rains came and the starvation kicked in, well…he changed.
Something about his demeanor changed along with his personality. After we had gone to the military checkpoint to get fresh water (the city had cut off all sewage and water facilities-they had all but overflowed) and our local news. Propaganda as usual, the old “stick together and you’ll make it” type of reading. Well on this particular day Samuel had decided to take me to some strange hideout of his-something he called “the tower.” It was a few miles off, and we might not make the trip back. “Suits me.” I told him. We would probably die of starvation in a few days anyway, why not make a trip out of this terrible hellhole.
We packed what we could, a sleeping roll, a few quarts of water, and for me the only picture of my daughter I had managed to survive after the Doom.
The trip was rancid and mediocre. The rains had ruined the entire topsoil of this Earth, it was as manual and toiled as walking on snow with no boots on. The infection of the feet had killed thousands, at least that was what the news had told us.
Among some miracle we made it to the pathetic soppy mound about 2000 feet above sea level. The view was anything other than amazing-it allowed one the melancholy view of our town, grey and unchanging as ever. The checkpoint lights were the only sign of any electricity, after the riots about a quarter of the population had been gunned down. That left about 200 people, and after the infections and starvation I could hardly wonder why we never saw anyone on the walk to our water rations.
The tower was in pathetic shape. Dilapidated and falling into pieces, it was a small wonder the poor thing had been vacant since before I was born. Samuel reached into his pocket and found the keys, opened the lock, and pushed the diseased door open.
What I saw at this point is almost impossible to describe. The things I remember after this are all very hard to remember, but I will try to recount them.
Sitting on all the walls of this monstrosity were small cages, about 5 feet in height, rusty and brown. Inside them-dear God-inside them were humans but they were not….they could not be…
Inside them were human beings-but they were anything but. They had descended…descended to some devilish primeval animals. They sat atop chains inside the cages, they had extraneous limbs that allowed them to crawl up almost anything.
One detail I can describe perfectly- in the center of this hell was one big cage, but covered by a giant cloth. I could never have wanted to see that…I DID NOT. I DID NOT WANT TO SEE IT!
But Samuel made me…he pulled the curtain and I saw it.
Straight from whatever hell from whatever religion you believe in…this terrible sin sat inside, hundreds of humans, like jelly, all melted together, oh God the moans and screams they made…
Can you imagine it? Thousands of men, women, children, Demons I tell you! Only Satan himself could have made something this ghastly…BUT there it was! Right in front of me! You cannot call me mad…this was real, REAL I TELL YOU!
The beast moaned and cried…babies sobbing, men crying, limbs poking out every which and where, this gore pit of monsters could actually move, sliding across the cage and grasping at various bars of the cage.
“Samuel!” I cried. “What have you done?”
“Only God’s willing, dear. Now, you must join them. Come. It will not hurt. You will not even be yourself. All that is evil will be gone.”
“Fuck you!” I Cried, running for the door, but before I could reach it one of the freaks from the smaller cages had already grasped me with tens of hands-the HORROR. THE SHEER HORROR of those limbs grabbing at me, pulling me towards Samuel.
“Now do you see God’s true will child? Do you see what He wants?”
When I woke up, something felt different. Something…something had grown onto me. You see, I actually feel much better. The limbs…they make me feel stronger. This mound of bodies makes us ALL stronger!! All my friends are with me now. Together we will show all of Earth and the Universe what we want! PRAISE SAMUEL! PRAISE HIM! LAUDETUR SALVATOREM!!
The Waves
My comrade James and I were off the Coast of North Carolina. It was mid November, a terrible time for a dive but time was of the essence. We had come across a discovery that would lead us to quite an amount of money. About 30 miles off the coast, a ship had sunk about 200 years ago, some old merchants had been shot down. We had received information that a good sum of collectibles was aboard this ship, so we decided to schedule for a dive today.
We were aboard my small ship, the Honeymoon, when we were preparing. We both checked each others equipment. James and I had been diving partners since we were teenagers. Now in our mid-30's, we had become veterans of the sea.
The sky was a little gray, the sun trying to poke its head out behind the clouds. Most people would postpone a dive after this, but we were too close to our discovery. We made our final checks, and jumped in that water.
The feeling of being completely surrounded, in somewhere where your species did not belong always brought chills to my body. Humans did not belong in the ocean, but we still went in it anyway. It was somewhat the final frontier, besides space. I always just floated for a moment when I first dropped in, admiring the pure tenacity of myself to even try this. We had our sonar to find the ship, and some rough coordinates. We began swimming. The water was awfully murky, and we cautiously went forward. There was no way to communicate except for tapping your tank with a knife, so when I came across something, or James did, we would hear a loud clunk.
We swam and swam, the minutes counting down. We had limited time with our oxygen, and time was running out.
After what seemed like hours we finally bumped into the ship, literally. The water was so murky I could not even see my own hands. I kept my knife in my hand. Something didn't feel right. James tried to pry open the planks on the side, but couldn't. Luckily I had always brought a crowbar with me, and we popped the rotting wood open with almost no effort at all.
Inside was nothing. Sand covered the bottom, any existence of human life was gone in the ship. We dug our hands in the sand looking for anything of value, but nothing was found. I was still digging when I heard James tapping his tank furiously. I went towards the sound, and what I found was sickening.
An eel had bitten off his hand while he was searching, that dreaded red mist was floating around blinding me. I was still holding my knife, and jabbed the eel in the head, right between the eyes. Even more blood spread, and I knew we were going to be screwed if any other predators were around. I grabbed James and started swimming toward the door we had made. My heart was pumping, I knew I was wasting oxygen but I didn't care. James was probably going to get infected with all this murky water going into his open wound. We swam, I don't remember what direction, but away from that terrible ship. We kept going.
When I knew we were going to run out of air, we started going up. Up and up, towards that ceiling that meant freedom. James was out now, just a lifeless sack that was bringing me down. He was getting so heavy...
But I kept going. I couldn't leave him. Our boat was going to be at the surface, I knew it. Honeymoon seemed like heaven.
Finally my arms were giving out, and I had to make a decision. I left him there, and I curse myself to this very day. I know he is floating around there, or in some terrible creatures stomach.
I made my way to the surface, my lungs about to burst. My oxygen had run out, and I had to hold my breath half the way up. It was complete torture.
When I reached air, I wanted to cry.
The sky was black, the waves and ocean were furious. Honeymoon was nowhere to be found. The impending doom that I felt was like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I treaded water, waiting for death. I kept swimming, just trying to keep afloat. I thought about James, and began sobbing. I had left my best friend behind, selfishly. This was my punishment. Lightning lit the sky on fire, and thunder boomed like Zeus screaming in anger. I knew this was it.
Then I saw her. Honeymoon, a way across, floating idly. I began swimming furiously toward her.
I swam and swam, my arms felt like acid and burned like a thousand fires, but I kept going. I finally reached her, and tried to pull myself up. I was too weak. My arms were rubber, and I could not even keep myself afloat now. I felt so bad. This was it. My legs gave out, and my arms tried for a moment to keep me up.
I started falling, my air had run out forever ago, and I just held my breath. I watched slowly as the bottom of my ship became smaller and smaller. Then a red mist surrounded me, and I felt my body going up.
I woke up later, in my bed aboard the Honeymoon. My gear was laying beside me, I felt exhausted. My body was completely burned out. I tried to rise up, but the moving boat and the weakling I was prevented me from getting up. I fell into a deep sleep again.
I woke up once more, and this time I had some strength. Thunder was still booming, and walked out the door. James had the wheel, his missing arm tied off with some sheets. Somehow he was still alive. I walked over to him and gave him a giant hug. He jumped, not expecting me. It was pouring down rain, and we were completely lost. We thought about what to do next.
We were aboard my small ship, the Honeymoon, when we were preparing. We both checked each others equipment. James and I had been diving partners since we were teenagers. Now in our mid-30's, we had become veterans of the sea.
The sky was a little gray, the sun trying to poke its head out behind the clouds. Most people would postpone a dive after this, but we were too close to our discovery. We made our final checks, and jumped in that water.
The feeling of being completely surrounded, in somewhere where your species did not belong always brought chills to my body. Humans did not belong in the ocean, but we still went in it anyway. It was somewhat the final frontier, besides space. I always just floated for a moment when I first dropped in, admiring the pure tenacity of myself to even try this. We had our sonar to find the ship, and some rough coordinates. We began swimming. The water was awfully murky, and we cautiously went forward. There was no way to communicate except for tapping your tank with a knife, so when I came across something, or James did, we would hear a loud clunk.
We swam and swam, the minutes counting down. We had limited time with our oxygen, and time was running out.
After what seemed like hours we finally bumped into the ship, literally. The water was so murky I could not even see my own hands. I kept my knife in my hand. Something didn't feel right. James tried to pry open the planks on the side, but couldn't. Luckily I had always brought a crowbar with me, and we popped the rotting wood open with almost no effort at all.
Inside was nothing. Sand covered the bottom, any existence of human life was gone in the ship. We dug our hands in the sand looking for anything of value, but nothing was found. I was still digging when I heard James tapping his tank furiously. I went towards the sound, and what I found was sickening.
An eel had bitten off his hand while he was searching, that dreaded red mist was floating around blinding me. I was still holding my knife, and jabbed the eel in the head, right between the eyes. Even more blood spread, and I knew we were going to be screwed if any other predators were around. I grabbed James and started swimming toward the door we had made. My heart was pumping, I knew I was wasting oxygen but I didn't care. James was probably going to get infected with all this murky water going into his open wound. We swam, I don't remember what direction, but away from that terrible ship. We kept going.
When I knew we were going to run out of air, we started going up. Up and up, towards that ceiling that meant freedom. James was out now, just a lifeless sack that was bringing me down. He was getting so heavy...
But I kept going. I couldn't leave him. Our boat was going to be at the surface, I knew it. Honeymoon seemed like heaven.
Finally my arms were giving out, and I had to make a decision. I left him there, and I curse myself to this very day. I know he is floating around there, or in some terrible creatures stomach.
I made my way to the surface, my lungs about to burst. My oxygen had run out, and I had to hold my breath half the way up. It was complete torture.
When I reached air, I wanted to cry.
The sky was black, the waves and ocean were furious. Honeymoon was nowhere to be found. The impending doom that I felt was like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I treaded water, waiting for death. I kept swimming, just trying to keep afloat. I thought about James, and began sobbing. I had left my best friend behind, selfishly. This was my punishment. Lightning lit the sky on fire, and thunder boomed like Zeus screaming in anger. I knew this was it.
Then I saw her. Honeymoon, a way across, floating idly. I began swimming furiously toward her.
I swam and swam, my arms felt like acid and burned like a thousand fires, but I kept going. I finally reached her, and tried to pull myself up. I was too weak. My arms were rubber, and I could not even keep myself afloat now. I felt so bad. This was it. My legs gave out, and my arms tried for a moment to keep me up.
I started falling, my air had run out forever ago, and I just held my breath. I watched slowly as the bottom of my ship became smaller and smaller. Then a red mist surrounded me, and I felt my body going up.
I woke up later, in my bed aboard the Honeymoon. My gear was laying beside me, I felt exhausted. My body was completely burned out. I tried to rise up, but the moving boat and the weakling I was prevented me from getting up. I fell into a deep sleep again.
I woke up once more, and this time I had some strength. Thunder was still booming, and walked out the door. James had the wheel, his missing arm tied off with some sheets. Somehow he was still alive. I walked over to him and gave him a giant hug. He jumped, not expecting me. It was pouring down rain, and we were completely lost. We thought about what to do next.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
There's something about Grandma
My grandmother had lived inside a small one room house for the past seventy one years. She was an avid racist, something I despised during my time in the South, and she also had very little memory past the age of 30. She could remember anything before then, but now she had trouble remembering to feed herself.
Her name was Gwyneth, and she had been in World War 2 as a secret soldier. She had cut her hair and pretended to be a male to join the war. She had a wicked sense of humour and could make anyone laugh.
It was now 2013 and it was probably time for her to take her trip to the promised land, whatever the hell that was. I had to bring her lunch every day, since I worked nights doing freight at an office supply store. Today she was telling me about D-day, and how she had saved about nine mens lives by taking a grenade to the leg. She said she had a prosthetic leg, but it was BS because she had nasty olive spots on both of her legs. She had tons of war stories that were complete lies, she had killed Hitler, shook hands with Stalin, spent the night at Churchill's place. All kinds of stories that were made up, but were so entertaining you had to listen.
I watched her eat that sludgy chicken noodle soup. She always ate Campbells chicken noodle soup every day. The smell of it made me nauseous. I hadn't slept much the night before, so I felt my eyelids slowly roll down, casting me away into dreamland.
I woke up in a stupor, it was hot and humid. Grandma was nowhere to be found. I got up out of the chair and searched the entire house. I found the attic ladder down, and could hear something up in that dreadful attic. I climbed up the ladder and was dumbfounded by what I saw.
Grandma was sitting in the middle, surrounded by a circle of candles and a pentagram of some red substance on the wall. She was hovering over something, it looked like a body laying down. I edged my way over to her, making my way slowly across the rusty floor. Then the inevitable happened, a board creaked, and she turned around in a maddening fashion.
Across her face was blood, chunks of flesh on her face. Blood dripped down onto that old wood, and laying under her was my body, laying there lifeless, chunks of my face bitten out. She was wearing a Nazi uniform, and ran towards me. I ran back to the ladder, but tripped and fell down onto the ground. The air was knocked out of me, and for a moment I felt a sense of impending doom. I then got up, rushed down the hall,and out the door. Something was wrong, this was not her neighborhood. Fog surrounded me, I could only see past the palm of my hand. Some kind of mellow music was playing, and I ran. For how long, I know not, but after what seemed like hours I arrived at some identical cabin to my Grandmothers. I ran inside and slammed the door shut.
Inside were hundreds of bodies hanging from the rafters, it looked like a slaughterhouse. Bodies of me and my parents, all my friends, a Hitler corpse, all hanging from hooks on the ceiling. I screamed and ran towards the back door. Outside the screen door the fog was even thicker, I could not even see my body underneath my neck. I kept running, hearing her foosteps right behind me made my head ache. Oh the torture!! Her laughing and breathing down my neck. For some reason I kept running, even though I knew she would get to me. I came across another shack, this time it looked different. It had a large Coca Cola sign on the right side, and a swingset beside the house. I sprinted inside, and caught my breath after latching the lock.
It was some kind of old country store, filled with old knick knacks and stuff that only a dumb tourist would buy. I checked all the entrances, locked the back door and threw bookshelves in front of the front and back door. I ran upstairs, into what looked like the living quarters of the owner. Bear pelts were all along the walls, deer antlers and other animal parts. There was only one window on this level, so I stared outside. The fog was still thick, but I could hear her beating on the door, calling my name. She yelled gross obscenities and made gestures at me. I wanted to throw up. I passed out on the bed.
I woke up again, this time in some dark room. The smell of that chicken soup was so strong I was queasy. One dim light turned on, and my grandma was standing there with a whip, in some weird s&m getup. I was tied to a chair, my hands and feet bound together. It was so gross! Dear mother it was disgusting!
She walked up with a can of that soup, and poured it upon my head. It was boiling hot, and I could feel my skin peeling off my body, my eyes exploded and I cried out in anger. The terrible woman! What was happening?
I woke up again. My grandma was sitting in front of me at the table, asleep. I was in a cold sweat, and it was somewhere around 3am. I brought her to her bed, and went to the bathroom to wash my face off. I looked in the mirror, and my entire face was a melted mess. My eyeballs were hanging from their sockets, looking up at me. My grandma was standing behind me with a blood covered razor, breathing down my neck. That smell, that smell of Campbells chicken noodle soup. I threw up all over the mirror.
I screamed.
Her name was Gwyneth, and she had been in World War 2 as a secret soldier. She had cut her hair and pretended to be a male to join the war. She had a wicked sense of humour and could make anyone laugh.
It was now 2013 and it was probably time for her to take her trip to the promised land, whatever the hell that was. I had to bring her lunch every day, since I worked nights doing freight at an office supply store. Today she was telling me about D-day, and how she had saved about nine mens lives by taking a grenade to the leg. She said she had a prosthetic leg, but it was BS because she had nasty olive spots on both of her legs. She had tons of war stories that were complete lies, she had killed Hitler, shook hands with Stalin, spent the night at Churchill's place. All kinds of stories that were made up, but were so entertaining you had to listen.
I watched her eat that sludgy chicken noodle soup. She always ate Campbells chicken noodle soup every day. The smell of it made me nauseous. I hadn't slept much the night before, so I felt my eyelids slowly roll down, casting me away into dreamland.
I woke up in a stupor, it was hot and humid. Grandma was nowhere to be found. I got up out of the chair and searched the entire house. I found the attic ladder down, and could hear something up in that dreadful attic. I climbed up the ladder and was dumbfounded by what I saw.
Grandma was sitting in the middle, surrounded by a circle of candles and a pentagram of some red substance on the wall. She was hovering over something, it looked like a body laying down. I edged my way over to her, making my way slowly across the rusty floor. Then the inevitable happened, a board creaked, and she turned around in a maddening fashion.
Across her face was blood, chunks of flesh on her face. Blood dripped down onto that old wood, and laying under her was my body, laying there lifeless, chunks of my face bitten out. She was wearing a Nazi uniform, and ran towards me. I ran back to the ladder, but tripped and fell down onto the ground. The air was knocked out of me, and for a moment I felt a sense of impending doom. I then got up, rushed down the hall,and out the door. Something was wrong, this was not her neighborhood. Fog surrounded me, I could only see past the palm of my hand. Some kind of mellow music was playing, and I ran. For how long, I know not, but after what seemed like hours I arrived at some identical cabin to my Grandmothers. I ran inside and slammed the door shut.
Inside were hundreds of bodies hanging from the rafters, it looked like a slaughterhouse. Bodies of me and my parents, all my friends, a Hitler corpse, all hanging from hooks on the ceiling. I screamed and ran towards the back door. Outside the screen door the fog was even thicker, I could not even see my body underneath my neck. I kept running, hearing her foosteps right behind me made my head ache. Oh the torture!! Her laughing and breathing down my neck. For some reason I kept running, even though I knew she would get to me. I came across another shack, this time it looked different. It had a large Coca Cola sign on the right side, and a swingset beside the house. I sprinted inside, and caught my breath after latching the lock.
It was some kind of old country store, filled with old knick knacks and stuff that only a dumb tourist would buy. I checked all the entrances, locked the back door and threw bookshelves in front of the front and back door. I ran upstairs, into what looked like the living quarters of the owner. Bear pelts were all along the walls, deer antlers and other animal parts. There was only one window on this level, so I stared outside. The fog was still thick, but I could hear her beating on the door, calling my name. She yelled gross obscenities and made gestures at me. I wanted to throw up. I passed out on the bed.
I woke up again, this time in some dark room. The smell of that chicken soup was so strong I was queasy. One dim light turned on, and my grandma was standing there with a whip, in some weird s&m getup. I was tied to a chair, my hands and feet bound together. It was so gross! Dear mother it was disgusting!
She walked up with a can of that soup, and poured it upon my head. It was boiling hot, and I could feel my skin peeling off my body, my eyes exploded and I cried out in anger. The terrible woman! What was happening?
I woke up again. My grandma was sitting in front of me at the table, asleep. I was in a cold sweat, and it was somewhere around 3am. I brought her to her bed, and went to the bathroom to wash my face off. I looked in the mirror, and my entire face was a melted mess. My eyeballs were hanging from their sockets, looking up at me. My grandma was standing behind me with a blood covered razor, breathing down my neck. That smell, that smell of Campbells chicken noodle soup. I threw up all over the mirror.
I screamed.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Dream
Hey everyone, I had absolutely no sleep last night due to some crazy nightmares. But I can remember them really vividly so I figured I would write about them this fine Friday morning. Some parts I cannot remember so yeah...
At first I was running from a Native American. It was somewhere in a forested area. I remember in the beginning I was bored and couldn't find anything to do in the little "town" which consisted of log cabins and a small bar. So I ventured off and he started chasing me. I had a large tomahawk and was chasing me. I kept running and looking back and he kept gaining. I remember yelling for help and no one hearing me. I was almost in to town, and was about to round a corner when he put me in a hostage like choke hold. I was so angry he had caught me, I was so close and no one wanted to help me. Then he took a huge gash out of my back and ran away. I remember feeling a sense of doom and this was one of the most disturbing parts. I remember hearing people coming, and I remember thinking "F*** this guy, I'm not going to let everyone see me this way." So I fell right on my back onto the ground, and I felt terrible. It felt like when you hadn't slept or ate in a few days, completely diminished of all energy. I remember thinking about dying, and what was going to happen. I am not religious at all, and therefore I know this was the end. When I think about him taking that cut out of my back, and how it felt, it still makes my back hurt. It felt so real, I can feel it now. I don't think I will be able to sleep for a few days. It was terrible.
Then everyone walked up, and my hands stopped working. I was just kind of sitting there, not being able to say anything or do anything. It was really uncomfortable, and then I woke up. (In the dream)
It was weeks later and the Native American guy was taking care of me. It was so weird. My back was patched up but I was still unable to really move. I remember him taking me on this sort of "hunt" thing and I was all alone in the woods. A bunch of wolves came around and one took a bite out of my hand. It was completely black, and I can still vividly remember its teeth and those dilated pupils. I had some kind of guns but they were almost toys, so terrible a shot at point blank missed. I tried to load the gun again but was so nervous I just dropped them. I remember-this part is sad, I remember grabbing the wolf and taking it out with my hands. It disturbs me to think of it now. It really does. After I killed it I remember just laying down and crying, calling out the Native American guys name. I remember he had one, but I don't remember what it was. He eventually made his way over to me after a while and we went back to this hut thing.
At this point I woke up before school today really disturbed. I have no idea if this is some kind of symbolization or something. I just wanted to get it off my mind and see what anyone thought of it.
Thanks
C
At first I was running from a Native American. It was somewhere in a forested area. I remember in the beginning I was bored and couldn't find anything to do in the little "town" which consisted of log cabins and a small bar. So I ventured off and he started chasing me. I had a large tomahawk and was chasing me. I kept running and looking back and he kept gaining. I remember yelling for help and no one hearing me. I was almost in to town, and was about to round a corner when he put me in a hostage like choke hold. I was so angry he had caught me, I was so close and no one wanted to help me. Then he took a huge gash out of my back and ran away. I remember feeling a sense of doom and this was one of the most disturbing parts. I remember hearing people coming, and I remember thinking "F*** this guy, I'm not going to let everyone see me this way." So I fell right on my back onto the ground, and I felt terrible. It felt like when you hadn't slept or ate in a few days, completely diminished of all energy. I remember thinking about dying, and what was going to happen. I am not religious at all, and therefore I know this was the end. When I think about him taking that cut out of my back, and how it felt, it still makes my back hurt. It felt so real, I can feel it now. I don't think I will be able to sleep for a few days. It was terrible.
Then everyone walked up, and my hands stopped working. I was just kind of sitting there, not being able to say anything or do anything. It was really uncomfortable, and then I woke up. (In the dream)
It was weeks later and the Native American guy was taking care of me. It was so weird. My back was patched up but I was still unable to really move. I remember him taking me on this sort of "hunt" thing and I was all alone in the woods. A bunch of wolves came around and one took a bite out of my hand. It was completely black, and I can still vividly remember its teeth and those dilated pupils. I had some kind of guns but they were almost toys, so terrible a shot at point blank missed. I tried to load the gun again but was so nervous I just dropped them. I remember-this part is sad, I remember grabbing the wolf and taking it out with my hands. It disturbs me to think of it now. It really does. After I killed it I remember just laying down and crying, calling out the Native American guys name. I remember he had one, but I don't remember what it was. He eventually made his way over to me after a while and we went back to this hut thing.
At this point I woke up before school today really disturbed. I have no idea if this is some kind of symbolization or something. I just wanted to get it off my mind and see what anyone thought of it.
Thanks
C
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
To bee or not to bee
Most of my life has been spent in an office. It's not very large, and its kind of funny shaped. We work for Smith Corp, owned by a woman named Jay Queen. She had been married to a Smith, years ago, but after some shady death she was left the sole owner of the entire corporation. We all lived in a utopian society, inside a large dome. We were all shielded from the outside. Some of us got to go outside during certain seasons, to harvest and help stock our supplies.
My job was working at the starch area, mixing various chemicals and starches together to create a sweetened substance that we all sustained on, mainly our offspring. Sadly my wife and I were infertile, we had tried for years but were never blessed with a child. She had the most beautiful eyes, a dark brown. She had the figure of an Amazon, truly a wonder. But we weren't mean to reproduce, and we accepted it.
She worked at the other side of the plant, designing rooms and the like for newcomers. It was a hard labour, but she was quite strong and was up to the challenge. I had always liked that about her, strong and resilient was in her nature. If we had had children....she would have been a great mother. I have asked the Gods above for a miracle, but none has happened yet. I remember when we first met, and how we both loved working with children. Sadly my side had faded away, while she still worked in housing for the children.
I had just finished my batch of sweetness when I heard a knock at my door. It was clear, and I knew it was my supervisor Adam. He walked in.
"Simon, your productivity has been astounding! You have made our sector the best in the dome! But I must ask you of something, boy. You have been here much too long. Take a vacation! You deserve it! The intern can fill you in!"
I thought about it for a few minutes. Adam twiddled with some pencils, and I made my mind up.
That night I went to a local bar and club, and danced the night away. I woke up the next morning next to my wife, her beautiful humming when she snored had always been a cute perk of her. I could not remember anything that had happened the night before. I stood up, stretched, and went to the bathroom. I washed off my face and stared.
I had grown a little paler, my yellow tint had started to fade. My blacks were grey too, and my figure was beginning to diminish. I looked back at my wife. She deserved someone who could do better, someone who could provide a child. I kissed her goodbye, and walked out of the room.
The roads were busy with traffic, people flying in front of one another and cutting people off. The untrained drive would surely be in a crash today. I went to work, and started on my next batch of sweet.
Then the intercom came on. My name was called, and to report directly to the top of the dome. I made my way up.
Awaiting at the top was the beautiful Jay, sitting atop her throne. Children circled all around her, and hundreds of males trying to impress her. I bowed before her.
"What have you, my queen?" I asked.
She gave me that stare, the stare that makes you lose track of time and place, the stare that makes you fall in love and hate someone at the same time.How?"
She looked at me and laughed. "Do you know why you have had no children?" She asked. I shook my head, "It is because you are a direct descendant of the Higher! You can only have children with the royal blood! Now come over here, and help me create another wonderful circle of life!"
The next morning I awoke next to her, exhausted. Hundreds of them were running around, screaming. My very own children! Mine!!! I smiled.
Jay opened her mouth and devoured me. I was happy.
My job was working at the starch area, mixing various chemicals and starches together to create a sweetened substance that we all sustained on, mainly our offspring. Sadly my wife and I were infertile, we had tried for years but were never blessed with a child. She had the most beautiful eyes, a dark brown. She had the figure of an Amazon, truly a wonder. But we weren't mean to reproduce, and we accepted it.
She worked at the other side of the plant, designing rooms and the like for newcomers. It was a hard labour, but she was quite strong and was up to the challenge. I had always liked that about her, strong and resilient was in her nature. If we had had children....she would have been a great mother. I have asked the Gods above for a miracle, but none has happened yet. I remember when we first met, and how we both loved working with children. Sadly my side had faded away, while she still worked in housing for the children.
I had just finished my batch of sweetness when I heard a knock at my door. It was clear, and I knew it was my supervisor Adam. He walked in.
"Simon, your productivity has been astounding! You have made our sector the best in the dome! But I must ask you of something, boy. You have been here much too long. Take a vacation! You deserve it! The intern can fill you in!"
I thought about it for a few minutes. Adam twiddled with some pencils, and I made my mind up.
That night I went to a local bar and club, and danced the night away. I woke up the next morning next to my wife, her beautiful humming when she snored had always been a cute perk of her. I could not remember anything that had happened the night before. I stood up, stretched, and went to the bathroom. I washed off my face and stared.
I had grown a little paler, my yellow tint had started to fade. My blacks were grey too, and my figure was beginning to diminish. I looked back at my wife. She deserved someone who could do better, someone who could provide a child. I kissed her goodbye, and walked out of the room.
The roads were busy with traffic, people flying in front of one another and cutting people off. The untrained drive would surely be in a crash today. I went to work, and started on my next batch of sweet.
Then the intercom came on. My name was called, and to report directly to the top of the dome. I made my way up.
Awaiting at the top was the beautiful Jay, sitting atop her throne. Children circled all around her, and hundreds of males trying to impress her. I bowed before her.
"What have you, my queen?" I asked.
She gave me that stare, the stare that makes you lose track of time and place, the stare that makes you fall in love and hate someone at the same time.How?"
She looked at me and laughed. "Do you know why you have had no children?" She asked. I shook my head, "It is because you are a direct descendant of the Higher! You can only have children with the royal blood! Now come over here, and help me create another wonderful circle of life!"
The next morning I awoke next to her, exhausted. Hundreds of them were running around, screaming. My very own children! Mine!!! I smiled.
Jay opened her mouth and devoured me. I was happy.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
April
I was 28 years old and was a multi-million dollar fashion model. I had slept with thousands of men and had more friends on facebook than I could count. I had over 3 million followers on twitter and even more followed my instagram. I am beautiful in every way. I have curly blonde hair, but I straighten it most of the time. I do whatever my designer, Klause, wants me to do. I have so much money that I have seperate bank accounts. I do not donate to charity because I grew up as an orphan and never saw a dime from those bastard celebrities.
"April, you HAVE to try this on. I know its a little bit extreme, but come on! We're on in five minutes!"
I refused. The dress made me look like a skank, and thats saying something for me. I was texting some of my friends, nonsense whimsical friends who only cared about my money. I can sometimes be mean to them but they come back. This dress was an avocado green-line ugly piece of cloth that showed off most of my figure.
"No." I replied. I was in a bad mood because Brittany had decided to go to brunch this morning without me. I guess she's not getting anything from me. At least until next week, where I go onto another coke binge and throw up everything, and end up calling that stupid girl crying. She was usually there for me but liked to play the escape card more often than not.
After thinking about that for a few minutes I said the hell with it and put the dress on. Five minutes of trotting down a runway couldn't be that bad.
I stepped out. The lights were always too bright and unnatural. It made me seem like some kind of doll, an emotionless figure that said and heard nothing. I did my usual prance, did a 180 and turned around. That night I was infuriated.
The headlines had called Klause a sexist and that he cared no more about the rights of women! Bah! The paparazzi pigs! I gave them some glamour shots anyway, what more could a thousand dollars do to me anyhow.
I did my usual partying at the highest class clubs. I am almost a goddess, and I can get in anywhere. Any man dumb enough to believe that I love him will pay for my drinks. Not like I need to. I already told you I have everything I want.
But I don't. Isn't there a guy who wants me for anything besides my money and body? Where? Klause is gay and the only other men I meet are douchebag bodybuilders and players. I had so many boyfriends in high school I cant even count. They were all the same. I hate my life.
I woke up in a drunken stupor, next to who knows who. I threw a hot iron on his chest and he cried. He ran out and called me any and every profanity possible. I drank some more liquor and looked at my phone. 8000 notifications and the like. I got my other phone out. My business phone.
Klause and Brittany were my only contacts. I had to be at work at 3. I hated waking up this early.
Around 230 I finished my make-up and walked outside. I had the most amazing yoga pants and a plain tanktop. I went to my civvie car, a Cadillac, and hopped in. The drive to work still amazes me. The skyscrapers are godlike. I can see myself perched upon them, controlling everything and everyone. They will bow down to me one day. I am the most beautiful girl in New York, but you know this.
Klause was high again, his nose powdery. He had some new dark blue slacks and blouse project he was working on, so I called Brittany. She wanted to go to brunch and I obliged. We went to a nice deli and I had a turkey and swiss with whole wheat bread. Being this gorgeous takes some self discipline.
We talked about everything and nothing, we were the epitome of boredom. Our lives were void of meaning and we knew it. Money was the only thing anyone wanted out of me, and I wanted everything else out of humanity.
When we finished I kissed her goodbye and hailed a taxi. One pulled up for me.
The driver had five o clock shadow and long, black hair. He wasnt perfect but the way he absolutely didnt notice me pissed me off. I bent forward, showing some of myself, and told him to take me to work. He completely ignored me! That bastard! But I couldnt stop trying. I talked to him the entire way and he just nodded. He seemed interested in nothing. Finally I gave up. I pouted.
He looked back, and stopped.
"You know, when you're not talking about yourself, you're actually pretty attractive."
The smug bastard! He was the selfish one! But something in my chest began to beat out of control! My head felt woozy and I lost myself. I stared at him, and he stared at me. He pulled the car over and we made love, right in the middle of an alleyway.
His name was Roger, and his long hair was sweaty and messy.
When I got back to work, Klause could tell something had happened. I will admit I was happier than usual. He did his cute little giggle and patted my back.
That night I felt confident. I felt like a god! The crowd loved me, and even though I was business casual they wanted me, I could feel the energy from them. I went to bed that night not in a drunken rage, but in a silly flirtatious mood with everything on my mind.
The next day I woke up at noon, and decided to go to Mcdonald's for breakfast. Why not? I deserved a treat. I got a chicken biscuit, and some coffee: black.
I was staring at the children playing when the door opened. It was him! But...there was someone else. Some dirty skank with him! That filthy, mongering SLOB! Some low-cut trash in a skirt shorter than an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger force and a damn tubetop! What trash! I walked over to the bastard and threw my coffee in his face! His expression was priceless, and I scratched that bitch across the face. She would live with those scars, emotional and physical forever!
That night I partied like an animal, sleeping with God who knows how many men and women and doing more coke than Charlie Sheen! It was amazing, and I woke up at 2, mean as a mountain lion.
I strutted into work, Klause once again high. He had to measure me because he lost his notebook once again, and we began working on some new designs. I was really into some of his new sketches, a long, flowing dress with tails coming down in a dark purple. He went into working and I helped him.
Brittany texted me again today and we decided to go out to a nice steak joint. It was amazing, and after I threw up and brushed my teeth I waited for a taxi again.
That bastard pulled up, and gave me that smirk. I got in, handed him the money and we drove on.
Seconds turned into hours, and it was dead silent. We pulled over again and made love.
I came into work again in a cheery mood, but after a few hours I couldn't take Klause's neuroticism anymore. I walked outside for a smoke break, and I saw him out there walking down the street. If I couldn't have the man no one could. He was walking with that trash, her poor face bandaged and sadly covered up in some cheap Avon. I pulled out my gun, always in case of those slimy mongruels that lurked at night, and made my way across the street. I aimed down my sights, and squeezed that trigger...
And woke up in a hospital. I had been hit by a bus, and the gun had fallen somewhere. Roger and that trash were in there waiting on me. Klause was passed out, and looked like he had been crying for days. I stared at Roger.
"What happened?" I asked him.
"Well, after your stupid stunt trying to kill us in the middle of Times Square, you were hit by a bus, your rotten apple. And guess what, your legs don't work anymore. You're not going to be strutting that ass anymore, begging for attention. I wanted to see you wake up, you miserable hag. I hope you can forgive yourself."
I reached up to claw his eyes out, but fell out of the bed like a baby. He was right. I couldnt move them. I couldnt even try.
I woke up again in that damned bed. Klause was sleeping, notes scattered about the floor. I crawled to the window and looked out. Fifty stories up. I opened the window. It was cold, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I took one last look at Klause, and dropped out. The last thing I can remember seeing was something bright yellow, moving fast....
Monday, May 13, 2013
FURBY
I sometimes still awake to those rolling eyes. I can feel her gaze, staring deep into my soul. Everything I have ever done wrong is enlarged tenfold. The furby can always tell when you are lying. Ever since I was a child and my cousin showed me that blasted toy, I have had nightmares every night since then. Plagued with sleep deprivation, the Furby always haunts me wherever I lay my feet. I know it is laying under my bed watching me! Waiting for that one moment it shall jump out and take my life forever! It shall not happen! I will never rest my eyes again until that bastard has died! No! Get your hands off of me!
I can still see its eyes as you talk to me! Rolling in and out of the socket! God! if only one existed, he must have created this daemon to haunt me eternally! I fear death, for that even there it shall follow me, staring that endless gaze into my heart! The pain! I must cut open the windows and turn the lights on any time it speaks to me in that idiotic voice! MAKE IT STOP
I have heard of its one enemy, fire! Hahahaha! I shall make it burn like a thousand embers, glowing in the darkness, then I shall rest forever!
I have set a trap this evening. When that daemon will walk its dumb walk across my floor and into my bed, I have set a hair-trigger flamethrower, pointed right at the bed! The joy! That dumb creature shall burn, and when it is dead I will devour its remains, and forget it forever!
I lay awake, waiting and watching. I think I may have even fallen asleep in my excitedness! But alas, I awoke in a pain so severe that not even Ares himself could wake me up in such pain! My legs were melted, no feeling in them! I tried to cry out but my mouth was gone! And I saw those eyes, staring at me in that idiotic gaze that would not let Satan himself leave my sights!
Hell hath no fury like that of a Furby!
I can still see its eyes as you talk to me! Rolling in and out of the socket! God! if only one existed, he must have created this daemon to haunt me eternally! I fear death, for that even there it shall follow me, staring that endless gaze into my heart! The pain! I must cut open the windows and turn the lights on any time it speaks to me in that idiotic voice! MAKE IT STOP
I have heard of its one enemy, fire! Hahahaha! I shall make it burn like a thousand embers, glowing in the darkness, then I shall rest forever!
I have set a trap this evening. When that daemon will walk its dumb walk across my floor and into my bed, I have set a hair-trigger flamethrower, pointed right at the bed! The joy! That dumb creature shall burn, and when it is dead I will devour its remains, and forget it forever!
I lay awake, waiting and watching. I think I may have even fallen asleep in my excitedness! But alas, I awoke in a pain so severe that not even Ares himself could wake me up in such pain! My legs were melted, no feeling in them! I tried to cry out but my mouth was gone! And I saw those eyes, staring at me in that idiotic gaze that would not let Satan himself leave my sights!
Hell hath no fury like that of a Furby!
Arson Detective Continued
She was wearing one of my old flannel shirts and some jeans that looked about 12 sizes too big, but it was enough. I was going to take her out shopping anyway, to get her mind off of withdrawals. She had been mumbling to herself all night, but at least she wasnt throwing up and crying yet. But it would happen.
We went to the mall where numerous shady individuals offered her anything from dope to "services." I made sure that they did not talk to her again. She went to one of those terrible clothing stores for teenagers, that played loud music and smelled like class A douchebag. I stood outside and smoked. It was places like this that made me even more insecure, made these kids fell like a part of something when really they were just brainwashing the poor bastards into buying more and more of their marketing. Making kids into billboards was not my idealogy. But enough philosophy..
She came out with more clothes than money could count. I had handed her a hundred and she came back with more useless crap than a tv salesman. We drove home in silence, her only thanking me for the clothes. I shrugged.
You see I hadnt been around a female in about 20 something years, since high school at least. I already told you I'm secluded but not talking to anyone except business associates is more than introverted. It felt good to have someone else around, no matter how awkward it seemed.
She got dressed and decided to cook. I had to go back to her house to do some real work, so I left her a cell number for when she got the shakes and left. I hated seeing withdrawal. Both my parents had died that way. I was done with drugs.
I arrived around noon, and the clouds were hanging over like a bad dream. The grey skies were melancholy and made me want to hide behind curtains, like a child. The house was a mere pile of rubble. She had asked me to find anything that wasnt burned, and my job was already over. There was nothing left. Bricks and ash lay where a life of mistrust and bad deeds had gone on for so long. It was altogether fitting that it ended that way. It was probably for the best, for her and whatever hell had happened there.
It had seemed like some usual case of an oven left on, or her trying to cook some dope and passing out, leaving a lighter or something stupid on. But it didnt seem that way. There was an obvious fast spark on the north side of the house, and I took a swab and sent it for the CSI's to test at the lab. I looked around more.
By three the rain started, and it was time to leave. My head was abuzz with ideas, for myself and for the girl. She knew something and I had to get it out of her.
I walked in to a puddle of vomit and other excretions. She had started and not called me. It pissed me off but, she probably couldnt get to the phone anyway. I got all of my towels and mopped it up, looking at myself in the puddle I couldnt help but laugh. What was I doing? How had I lasted this long? Why hadn't she cooked anything yet?
We went to the mall where numerous shady individuals offered her anything from dope to "services." I made sure that they did not talk to her again. She went to one of those terrible clothing stores for teenagers, that played loud music and smelled like class A douchebag. I stood outside and smoked. It was places like this that made me even more insecure, made these kids fell like a part of something when really they were just brainwashing the poor bastards into buying more and more of their marketing. Making kids into billboards was not my idealogy. But enough philosophy..
She came out with more clothes than money could count. I had handed her a hundred and she came back with more useless crap than a tv salesman. We drove home in silence, her only thanking me for the clothes. I shrugged.
You see I hadnt been around a female in about 20 something years, since high school at least. I already told you I'm secluded but not talking to anyone except business associates is more than introverted. It felt good to have someone else around, no matter how awkward it seemed.
She got dressed and decided to cook. I had to go back to her house to do some real work, so I left her a cell number for when she got the shakes and left. I hated seeing withdrawal. Both my parents had died that way. I was done with drugs.
I arrived around noon, and the clouds were hanging over like a bad dream. The grey skies were melancholy and made me want to hide behind curtains, like a child. The house was a mere pile of rubble. She had asked me to find anything that wasnt burned, and my job was already over. There was nothing left. Bricks and ash lay where a life of mistrust and bad deeds had gone on for so long. It was altogether fitting that it ended that way. It was probably for the best, for her and whatever hell had happened there.
It had seemed like some usual case of an oven left on, or her trying to cook some dope and passing out, leaving a lighter or something stupid on. But it didnt seem that way. There was an obvious fast spark on the north side of the house, and I took a swab and sent it for the CSI's to test at the lab. I looked around more.
By three the rain started, and it was time to leave. My head was abuzz with ideas, for myself and for the girl. She knew something and I had to get it out of her.
I walked in to a puddle of vomit and other excretions. She had started and not called me. It pissed me off but, she probably couldnt get to the phone anyway. I got all of my towels and mopped it up, looking at myself in the puddle I couldnt help but laugh. What was I doing? How had I lasted this long? Why hadn't she cooked anything yet?
War
Living on the West side of Compton had its ups and downs. Every day someone you knew or loved died. I was born in 1979. It was 1993 and Ice Cube had begun his successful solo career. Eazy and Dre were feuding, and things were tense.
I rolled the windows down to my 64. Ty let out a puff of smoke. We always met Thursday at 10am to make the dropoff. We had been running guns since I was thirteen years old. Anything from AK's to Mac 10's, anything to make a mother cry. Did I feel guilty? Sometimes. My mother had died when I was 12, a driveby meant for my father. I had never seen him since, and took over all of my mothers debts and her house. I assumed a different name as well.
"Alright boy, lets load em up." The car doors opened, I stepped outside. The California air is a dirty gritty thing. They say its the equivalent to smoking a pack a day. I can vouch for that. The humidity added in even more ruggedness, and the almost tropical climate led to always wearing shorts and a shirt. We only wore armor if we were going to war, otherwise you could die of a heat stroke.
We had never gone into slanging 'cane or any other type of drugs. When the heroin explosion started we vowed to stay out of it, but now times were tough. Ty had been trying to persuade me to jump in on it, but the risks were too high. We were already gambling with our lives with our gun "trading and borrowing" programs and we had enough heat as it was. Luckily the police were wasting enough resources on homicide detectives and vice. Gun running had become easier since the dope explosion. Much easier. Our profits were lower though, since most of the gang money was going towards drug trade.
However we had a plan. To start a few things off, a few local gangs were feuding over drug selling territory around the border of East and West side Compton. Therefore, we thought it altogether fitting to start something.
The plan was this: start a war, make a war economy, and sell guns. Our projections had led us to a 1000% sales increase if we could land a deal with them. I would assume West sides dealer, Ty would have East. This way they would never know they were using the same guns as each other.
Our guns had no serial numbers-a trick we had learned in the late 80s before our old boss Smack died. That was a different story.
Therefore we were untraceable, the cops were unable to find out who was selling these guns unless they did fingerprinting, which we were able to avoid as well.
We stacked the garbage bags into our trunks and locked them. We hopped in our buckets and drove down towards our designated directions. I headed to West Compton, waiting on Ty to start the war and call me. My cell phone was in the car, the brick was unable to go anywhere else. I smoked and waited.
About an hour later my phone rang. Ty was ready, he had worn Green clothes and opened fire upon the East side territory. He was on his way back to our hideout to change clothes.
I rolled up to the known gang hideout, a local bar and other vice selling establishment. I was wearing white, a peace token, and knocked. The door swung open and a younger man looked at me.
He had some charming words and asked my why I was there. He looked like he was about to go somewhere and I knew I had them.
"Listen, I know what just happened. I can get you what you need, for half price. You just have to stay with me for two years, and you can smoke anyone you want to." We bargained for a few minutes and I made the sale. We got the bags out of my trunk and shook hands. I got in my 64 and left.
When I got to the clubhouse there was yellow tape, and numerous cops. I had no product left in the car so i pulled up. What I saw would have made a normal man gag, but me...
Ty had been shot multiple times in the head. He was laying, face down, on the curbside. He had been executed. He was still wearing the green clothes still, and had been followed home. A pool of blood lay beside his body. The cops obviously had no remorse for him, with so many outstanding warrants it was just another catch. They asked me about funeral arrangements and I complied.
That night I slept soundly. I woke up and loaded the guns, and at 10 I met the younger man at a Mcdonald's parking lot. I lit a smoke.
I rolled the windows down to my 64. Ty let out a puff of smoke. We always met Thursday at 10am to make the dropoff. We had been running guns since I was thirteen years old. Anything from AK's to Mac 10's, anything to make a mother cry. Did I feel guilty? Sometimes. My mother had died when I was 12, a driveby meant for my father. I had never seen him since, and took over all of my mothers debts and her house. I assumed a different name as well.
"Alright boy, lets load em up." The car doors opened, I stepped outside. The California air is a dirty gritty thing. They say its the equivalent to smoking a pack a day. I can vouch for that. The humidity added in even more ruggedness, and the almost tropical climate led to always wearing shorts and a shirt. We only wore armor if we were going to war, otherwise you could die of a heat stroke.
We had never gone into slanging 'cane or any other type of drugs. When the heroin explosion started we vowed to stay out of it, but now times were tough. Ty had been trying to persuade me to jump in on it, but the risks were too high. We were already gambling with our lives with our gun "trading and borrowing" programs and we had enough heat as it was. Luckily the police were wasting enough resources on homicide detectives and vice. Gun running had become easier since the dope explosion. Much easier. Our profits were lower though, since most of the gang money was going towards drug trade.
However we had a plan. To start a few things off, a few local gangs were feuding over drug selling territory around the border of East and West side Compton. Therefore, we thought it altogether fitting to start something.
The plan was this: start a war, make a war economy, and sell guns. Our projections had led us to a 1000% sales increase if we could land a deal with them. I would assume West sides dealer, Ty would have East. This way they would never know they were using the same guns as each other.
Our guns had no serial numbers-a trick we had learned in the late 80s before our old boss Smack died. That was a different story.
Therefore we were untraceable, the cops were unable to find out who was selling these guns unless they did fingerprinting, which we were able to avoid as well.
We stacked the garbage bags into our trunks and locked them. We hopped in our buckets and drove down towards our designated directions. I headed to West Compton, waiting on Ty to start the war and call me. My cell phone was in the car, the brick was unable to go anywhere else. I smoked and waited.
About an hour later my phone rang. Ty was ready, he had worn Green clothes and opened fire upon the East side territory. He was on his way back to our hideout to change clothes.
I rolled up to the known gang hideout, a local bar and other vice selling establishment. I was wearing white, a peace token, and knocked. The door swung open and a younger man looked at me.
He had some charming words and asked my why I was there. He looked like he was about to go somewhere and I knew I had them.
"Listen, I know what just happened. I can get you what you need, for half price. You just have to stay with me for two years, and you can smoke anyone you want to." We bargained for a few minutes and I made the sale. We got the bags out of my trunk and shook hands. I got in my 64 and left.
When I got to the clubhouse there was yellow tape, and numerous cops. I had no product left in the car so i pulled up. What I saw would have made a normal man gag, but me...
Ty had been shot multiple times in the head. He was laying, face down, on the curbside. He had been executed. He was still wearing the green clothes still, and had been followed home. A pool of blood lay beside his body. The cops obviously had no remorse for him, with so many outstanding warrants it was just another catch. They asked me about funeral arrangements and I complied.
That night I slept soundly. I woke up and loaded the guns, and at 10 I met the younger man at a Mcdonald's parking lot. I lit a smoke.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Something funny
Mrs. Label had been a chef and mother for about 38 years. It was the end of her rope on this sad day, that PBS had decided to shut her down. After hundreds of mishaps on air, like cursing, throwing tantrums and throwing things at the audience, it was only fitting that on Mothers Day, 2013 she would be taken off the air. The following is what happened that eve
Lights turn on, Label enter
"Good morning everyone! I hope everyone is having a good mothers day! Due to lack of funding from viewers like you PBS has decided to shut me down! F(*)! Alright lets start off with something everyone likes, MEAT LOAF! Grab a handy pound of it, after thawing it out for about, hmmm, five years it should be about tasteless! Now, without washing your hands, because what mom does? Slowly mound the beef into a shallow bowl, and throw in some chives and other spices! Good just like that! Wait.....youre probably not cooking and watching this. Youre probably bored. Anyway....
When youre done just throw it into the oven on broil for about 20 minutes and forget about it!
Now for some conveniently located snacks in perfectly sized bowls! Take a half pound of potatoes, Oh John you dont have to slice them! Anyway just hollow them out and put the smallest pieces of cheese from the bottom of the bag and be reaaally stingy with it( like the way Mcdonalds is stingy with ranch packets) And some bacon bits (probably left over from dog food) ANd throw those in with the steaks! Or meat loaf! Whatever! S^@* the burner is on! What did we set the burner for John? Nothing? S(*& its broke again! Rico!"
Commercial
"Alright back again, hopefully your family took a smoke break and you're all really edgy! So we got those pork chops done and those potato skins. Take them out, I already have two and these are WOW Gorgeous!"
*Removes entire blackened plate of food from oven
*Takes bite of leather like potato skins
"Mmmm and you can TASTE the perfection that went into these folks! S*&#!
Now for dessert! We just got some cake from the deli at Lowe's Foods so.....do that! Mmmm leftover Christmas cake! Yumm!"
Lights turn off
"Well it looks like Pbs has forgotten to pay the light bill! S(*&! Well this is goodbye folks! I'm Linda Label, and this has been Cooking in the Country! Bye Yall!!!!"
Lights turn on, Label enter
"Good morning everyone! I hope everyone is having a good mothers day! Due to lack of funding from viewers like you PBS has decided to shut me down! F(*)! Alright lets start off with something everyone likes, MEAT LOAF! Grab a handy pound of it, after thawing it out for about, hmmm, five years it should be about tasteless! Now, without washing your hands, because what mom does? Slowly mound the beef into a shallow bowl, and throw in some chives and other spices! Good just like that! Wait.....youre probably not cooking and watching this. Youre probably bored. Anyway....
When youre done just throw it into the oven on broil for about 20 minutes and forget about it!
Now for some conveniently located snacks in perfectly sized bowls! Take a half pound of potatoes, Oh John you dont have to slice them! Anyway just hollow them out and put the smallest pieces of cheese from the bottom of the bag and be reaaally stingy with it( like the way Mcdonalds is stingy with ranch packets) And some bacon bits (probably left over from dog food) ANd throw those in with the steaks! Or meat loaf! Whatever! S^@* the burner is on! What did we set the burner for John? Nothing? S(*& its broke again! Rico!"
Commercial
"Alright back again, hopefully your family took a smoke break and you're all really edgy! So we got those pork chops done and those potato skins. Take them out, I already have two and these are WOW Gorgeous!"
*Removes entire blackened plate of food from oven
*Takes bite of leather like potato skins
"Mmmm and you can TASTE the perfection that went into these folks! S*&#!
Now for dessert! We just got some cake from the deli at Lowe's Foods so.....do that! Mmmm leftover Christmas cake! Yumm!"
Lights turn off
"Well it looks like Pbs has forgotten to pay the light bill! S(*&! Well this is goodbye folks! I'm Linda Label, and this has been Cooking in the Country! Bye Yall!!!!"
Happy mothers day
Probably not going to write anything today. Everyone be thankful for their moms and tell them you love them! Have a good day!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Space
Earth had sent us out 13 years ago. We were aboard the fabled Ghost. She was a tiny cruiser, but built to last. The hull consisted of three living areas, a kitchen, and an exercise area. The captains cabin was on a second level, along with maintenance. We had been drifting for a little longer than we needed to, on a course to nowhere really. We were supposed to land on Mars, to be the first human crew to set foot there. But, our pilot had screwed up and we were being tossed into the silent depth of space. The food hadnt run out, happily enough. They had sent us enough food and supplies to last World War 2 all over again.
My crew consisted of Shell, a Norwegian pilot from the elite secret college they had there, set up for astronauts when NASA went to hell. America had fallen after years of war with Britain. Ironic but sad. In 2031 all Americans were exterminated. Britain had become a powerhouse, and no other country on the Earth wanted to deal with it, not after World War 2. Some sadly fell in America's foosteps. I remember when China fell. The population fell by a few billion that day, I can remember the fires on our Holoscreen.
I grew up in Norway as well, but our saving grace John was from Britain, but had left after the Assault of America in 2019. He had been a former cafeteria server, and had somehow found himself in Norway looking for a job. The surface of the Earth looked pitiful, most lived underground. A few were brave enough to stay topside, but everything the College had was underground, even the launching pad.
When we had first glimpsed Mars John had made us a special dinner, Roast and potatoes, with some dessert even.
But Shell and John had other celebrations, and the crucial moment we needed to align the thrusters and power the engines towards Mars' atmosphere, well, we didn't make it. The College completely cut us off from transmissions. We were alone, and I refused to talk to either of them for months.
But in that tiny cabin you couldn't bear any grudges for long, and we learned to live with each other.
The seconds lasted for hours, the hours for days, the days for months, the months for years. We had no idea if Earth had blasted itself into oblivion or had sent out a rescue. We just didnt know.
Today, or whatever you called being awake and sensing the environment.
We were somewhere out, our navigations system had blown out years ago, and me being the only maintenance member had given up long before today. We sat around talking about childhood stories, trying to remember what it was like to live. Were we dead? Had we just crashed into Earth and died years ago? Was this Hell? Was there hell? I asked myself this everyday but never got answers.
I spent most of my time gazing outside, or going for a spacewalk topside. Our oxygen was precious but we had stoppped caring. To float outside was something incapable of describing. A human has absolutely zero control in space. Nothing you can do helps. You must rely on math. Will the ropes hold? Will your oxygen last? It is a binary system. Live or die. It was binary. Just calculations. No overseer. If there was one, it was a cruel and unusual bastard.
Sitting in the cabin was a dreary place. I spent time reading Macbeth or Gulliver's travels, whatever else books were left inside our rooms. Our clothes were dreary rags, we gave up cleaning ourselves except once every few weeks, to conserve our water. We had enough for years, but we never knew. Hopefully someone would save us, right?
I had never believed in aliens. I think humans were mathematically a mistake. The right place, the right time, the right everything. Evolution had led us to great accomplishments, and great failures. If anything else had been different with Earth, we would have never existed. Binary. Live or die.
The food was the fun part of our day. Whatever John managed to cook up was a miracle. We had lost any excess weight years ago, and were shells of humans. Shell looked especially bad. A truly beautiful woman, with the brightest emerald eyes and the figure of a goddess, it was no wonder John had jeapordized everything just for her.
13 years later
My logs have become extinct now. I havent recorded anymore because there is no point. No one will read this. There is no meaning to our mission now. I have thought about it enough. We passed the hellish ice ball a few months ago. We took a vote to just land there and open the door, know what it was like somewhere other than Earth. I lost.
We had kept going into nothing. The sun was a pale white dot against the back observation deck. To remember how big it had seemed when I was a child was a false hope. I can barely remember anything of my past life except for this pitiful shell. Every night I debate whether to just open the air lock and take us all. I tried once, but Shell caught me and they had locked me up for a few weeks. I havent tried since then.
I still read Macbeth. I think I might be ripped from my mothers womb. The earth is the mother of all humans. Maybe I am Macduff? Who am I? What point do I have on this universe? I stare and think and stare and sleep and eat and think all the time. Shell and John had a child, somehow. I hated to listen to it cry. To be born in this terrible shell of a world? I cannot go on spacewalks anymore. We are down to our reserve canisters of oxygen now.
I have done the calculations. We will last no longer than 2 weeks. We will suffer a slow and painful death, slowly being asphyxiated until our brains freeze. Maybe they will let me open the door. I like the door. It talks to me when I am sitting in the Captains cabin.
We dont wear clothes anymore. The rags they had been long ago were torn and used for more important things. Being in the nude was almost natural at this point. I remembered somewhere learning about ancient humans learning to use furs for warmth. I liked cold.
1 week later
We think its best to try and let the comms stay open. It was a joke, for the first hour or so. John and Shell went to the other room, and I stayed with the baby. I looked at its small face. Uncapable of thinking or remorse, uncapable of bullying or hating. It would never know what it was like to grow up with any of its kind, or know love or any feeling. It was a mere piece of clay to be fed and talked to. The baby will never be anything. It will never have a job or know what money is, or the things it could make people do. It will never know reproduction or love. It will not know anything! What is the point! Why am I writing in this?
4 days later
John and Shell have left me. I have always had a loaded 9mm in my room. John choked his son and Shell, and I was forced to take care of him. I now just sit and gaze at the rear window, watching the sun slowly grow darker and darker. I pace and pace and pace down the main hall. The food ran out. The oxygen will run out in three days.
I tell you, it is all math. I have done calculations and have figured out that they have not sent help. They have not sent anything. They most likely had all died from nuclear or toxic warfare. Humanity was dated, like any other form of life. It is binary. Without math there is nothing. Math controls everything.
I just slid their bodies in their bed, and left the door closed. Is that the proper thing to do? I would have dumped them out of the ship, but that would waste all the oxygen left. No. I must go until the final minute, the final second when I cannot stand it any longer.
I am glad I got to see Pluto. It was even less than I had expected. It was a mere dirty ball of ice. That is all. If Pluto did not exist, then nothing in this Universe would have changed.
3 days later
It is sometime in the day. Wait, I forget, there are no only days. I still stare out the Captains cabin with what is left of what you would call eyes. Math is everything. Without my mind to calculate what I am seeing, it is nothing. I am only perceiving what my mind, what numbers want me to see.
12 hours later
Well, today is the day. I looked at John and Shell and their son and said a few words. They were numbers. I am numbers. I am the omega. I am the alpha. I am nothing.
I covered them up. I got the last flight suit, and took the reserve tank of oxygen. I hooked it up to my suit and prepared.
5 hours later
Because of my suit taking in all the oxygen it is being reserved tenfold what it would have lasted in the entire ship. I grabbed what supplies were left, my handgun, useless with no oxygen, but still a memento. I grabbed the picture of my fallen wife and slid it into one of my pockets.
I did some last pre repping and walked over to the door. I let out the air and opened the door. The stars shined upon my eyes...My eyes...Me....one............
My crew consisted of Shell, a Norwegian pilot from the elite secret college they had there, set up for astronauts when NASA went to hell. America had fallen after years of war with Britain. Ironic but sad. In 2031 all Americans were exterminated. Britain had become a powerhouse, and no other country on the Earth wanted to deal with it, not after World War 2. Some sadly fell in America's foosteps. I remember when China fell. The population fell by a few billion that day, I can remember the fires on our Holoscreen.
I grew up in Norway as well, but our saving grace John was from Britain, but had left after the Assault of America in 2019. He had been a former cafeteria server, and had somehow found himself in Norway looking for a job. The surface of the Earth looked pitiful, most lived underground. A few were brave enough to stay topside, but everything the College had was underground, even the launching pad.
When we had first glimpsed Mars John had made us a special dinner, Roast and potatoes, with some dessert even.
But Shell and John had other celebrations, and the crucial moment we needed to align the thrusters and power the engines towards Mars' atmosphere, well, we didn't make it. The College completely cut us off from transmissions. We were alone, and I refused to talk to either of them for months.
But in that tiny cabin you couldn't bear any grudges for long, and we learned to live with each other.
The seconds lasted for hours, the hours for days, the days for months, the months for years. We had no idea if Earth had blasted itself into oblivion or had sent out a rescue. We just didnt know.
Today, or whatever you called being awake and sensing the environment.
We were somewhere out, our navigations system had blown out years ago, and me being the only maintenance member had given up long before today. We sat around talking about childhood stories, trying to remember what it was like to live. Were we dead? Had we just crashed into Earth and died years ago? Was this Hell? Was there hell? I asked myself this everyday but never got answers.
I spent most of my time gazing outside, or going for a spacewalk topside. Our oxygen was precious but we had stoppped caring. To float outside was something incapable of describing. A human has absolutely zero control in space. Nothing you can do helps. You must rely on math. Will the ropes hold? Will your oxygen last? It is a binary system. Live or die. It was binary. Just calculations. No overseer. If there was one, it was a cruel and unusual bastard.
Sitting in the cabin was a dreary place. I spent time reading Macbeth or Gulliver's travels, whatever else books were left inside our rooms. Our clothes were dreary rags, we gave up cleaning ourselves except once every few weeks, to conserve our water. We had enough for years, but we never knew. Hopefully someone would save us, right?
I had never believed in aliens. I think humans were mathematically a mistake. The right place, the right time, the right everything. Evolution had led us to great accomplishments, and great failures. If anything else had been different with Earth, we would have never existed. Binary. Live or die.
The food was the fun part of our day. Whatever John managed to cook up was a miracle. We had lost any excess weight years ago, and were shells of humans. Shell looked especially bad. A truly beautiful woman, with the brightest emerald eyes and the figure of a goddess, it was no wonder John had jeapordized everything just for her.
13 years later
My logs have become extinct now. I havent recorded anymore because there is no point. No one will read this. There is no meaning to our mission now. I have thought about it enough. We passed the hellish ice ball a few months ago. We took a vote to just land there and open the door, know what it was like somewhere other than Earth. I lost.
We had kept going into nothing. The sun was a pale white dot against the back observation deck. To remember how big it had seemed when I was a child was a false hope. I can barely remember anything of my past life except for this pitiful shell. Every night I debate whether to just open the air lock and take us all. I tried once, but Shell caught me and they had locked me up for a few weeks. I havent tried since then.
I still read Macbeth. I think I might be ripped from my mothers womb. The earth is the mother of all humans. Maybe I am Macduff? Who am I? What point do I have on this universe? I stare and think and stare and sleep and eat and think all the time. Shell and John had a child, somehow. I hated to listen to it cry. To be born in this terrible shell of a world? I cannot go on spacewalks anymore. We are down to our reserve canisters of oxygen now.
I have done the calculations. We will last no longer than 2 weeks. We will suffer a slow and painful death, slowly being asphyxiated until our brains freeze. Maybe they will let me open the door. I like the door. It talks to me when I am sitting in the Captains cabin.
We dont wear clothes anymore. The rags they had been long ago were torn and used for more important things. Being in the nude was almost natural at this point. I remembered somewhere learning about ancient humans learning to use furs for warmth. I liked cold.
1 week later
We think its best to try and let the comms stay open. It was a joke, for the first hour or so. John and Shell went to the other room, and I stayed with the baby. I looked at its small face. Uncapable of thinking or remorse, uncapable of bullying or hating. It would never know what it was like to grow up with any of its kind, or know love or any feeling. It was a mere piece of clay to be fed and talked to. The baby will never be anything. It will never have a job or know what money is, or the things it could make people do. It will never know reproduction or love. It will not know anything! What is the point! Why am I writing in this?
4 days later
John and Shell have left me. I have always had a loaded 9mm in my room. John choked his son and Shell, and I was forced to take care of him. I now just sit and gaze at the rear window, watching the sun slowly grow darker and darker. I pace and pace and pace down the main hall. The food ran out. The oxygen will run out in three days.
I tell you, it is all math. I have done calculations and have figured out that they have not sent help. They have not sent anything. They most likely had all died from nuclear or toxic warfare. Humanity was dated, like any other form of life. It is binary. Without math there is nothing. Math controls everything.
I just slid their bodies in their bed, and left the door closed. Is that the proper thing to do? I would have dumped them out of the ship, but that would waste all the oxygen left. No. I must go until the final minute, the final second when I cannot stand it any longer.
I am glad I got to see Pluto. It was even less than I had expected. It was a mere dirty ball of ice. That is all. If Pluto did not exist, then nothing in this Universe would have changed.
3 days later
It is sometime in the day. Wait, I forget, there are no only days. I still stare out the Captains cabin with what is left of what you would call eyes. Math is everything. Without my mind to calculate what I am seeing, it is nothing. I am only perceiving what my mind, what numbers want me to see.
12 hours later
Well, today is the day. I looked at John and Shell and their son and said a few words. They were numbers. I am numbers. I am the omega. I am the alpha. I am nothing.
I covered them up. I got the last flight suit, and took the reserve tank of oxygen. I hooked it up to my suit and prepared.
5 hours later
Because of my suit taking in all the oxygen it is being reserved tenfold what it would have lasted in the entire ship. I grabbed what supplies were left, my handgun, useless with no oxygen, but still a memento. I grabbed the picture of my fallen wife and slid it into one of my pockets.
I did some last pre repping and walked over to the door. I let out the air and opened the door. The stars shined upon my eyes...My eyes...Me....one............
God, the smell of burning ash is the worst I have ever experienced. A house had caught fire and I was called into it, since my house was a few blocks away. I had been on the beat for 25 years, and had moved my way into the lead criminal investigator status. I had been on arson for about 7 years, and it is the hardest case type to deal with. It isnt vice, finding drugs is simple. You find a lowlife, beat him into telling you his dealer, beat him to tell him HIS dealer, and so on until you reach the big dog. Homicide is even easier. With most murders being domestic or someone personal, aside from the average Zodiac you will be set. But not arson.
Arson is almost impossible to tell who started it. It is even harder to detect whether it was a crime or not. With gas pipes being about as reliable as Daphne from Scooby-Doo, you have to rely on pure instincts, friend. Hopefully the entire family lives and there are no casualities...but when there are....
I remember my first arson death. The bodies were hideous. To go into detail would be pushing the envelope farther than most civilians could handle. Women, children, men, nature picks who it wants like a cheap magician and a stack of cards.
But this fire was still burning and, reluctantly, I decided to help. There were no signs of anyone home but some bastards are heavy sleepers. I busted the door down with a hankerchief in hand, calling out if anyone was still there.
It was a small home, two bedroom to be precise. From what was not already on fire I noticed the furniture was tacky. One bedroom was shut off, a few bars of wood had fallen in front of it. I gave it a peep for old time'sake.
What I saw in there made me laugh and want to cry at the same time. Some young broad was sleeping through it like a baby. I sighed and threw myself into the room. The bars were sturdy but so burned they broke pretty easily. I ran over to her bed and shook her, trying to wake her.
She gasped. Her face turned from pure happiness to hell in about a second. I couldn't blame her. If my sin den was turning into a pile of Kingsford charcoal I'd be pretty upset to.
Enough with the introspection, I grabbed her tiny frame and rushed her out of the door. The front door was fallen in, and I asked if there was another way out. I was answered with a scream and some nonsense about her pictures.
"LADY! Your pictures are gone now! Everything is gone! Please, get yourself together for five seconds and we won't be dead!"
She nodded with tears falling from her eyes like a bad romance. So childish, but I couldn't do anything to help except get her ass out of there.
She led the way to some pitiful screen door, and we busted out together.
The fire chief was standing outside, smoking.
"Knew some broad was in there. We had an informant come by and tell us it was her neighbors house, and they hadn't seem a girl named Amy all week.
I never talked to the firemen because well...they were idiots. Most of them were fat and out of shape, a pure disgrace to the heroes I had encountered in my short years of the NYPD.
I had gathered my wits after a smoke break, and began looking for the pitiful girl. She was laying in the ambulance with a blanket and some water. Just like in the movies, with that little blanket. I laughed.
I walked over and asked how she was doing. "Alright I guess. You didnt have to save me you know."
"Yeah, I know." I replied. It was true. I didnt have to do much of anything anymore. But being alone in a house with a bottle of whiskey and the only companion being said bottle, life got lonely.
"Detective, her arms. Did you see them?" The EMT asked.
To be honest, I dont think anyone could have looked at her arms. She was good looking, but Jesus, in the middle of a fire I dont care if youre Angelina Jolie.
It was sad. Her arms were covered in very obvious needle holes. The poor girl was an obvious dope addict, and to look at her face washed was another story. She had short cut brown hair; thin, sad eyebrows and gray eyes. She had a subtle jawbone and was a little scrawny. Something about her reminded me of my old high school years. Hell, more in fact. An alcoholic introverts worst nightmare is always high school. A social free-for-all, a brutally unhonest society where even the worst bullying goes unpunished. Enough with the sores though.
"Got a place to stay?" I grumbled. I knew the answer.
"No." I wondered why? A heroin addict never has any friends. They leech everything and everyone they ever loved using the drug. I dealt with it all back in vice. She needed a bath, 48 hours of detox and some new clothes.
-End of part one-
Arson is almost impossible to tell who started it. It is even harder to detect whether it was a crime or not. With gas pipes being about as reliable as Daphne from Scooby-Doo, you have to rely on pure instincts, friend. Hopefully the entire family lives and there are no casualities...but when there are....
I remember my first arson death. The bodies were hideous. To go into detail would be pushing the envelope farther than most civilians could handle. Women, children, men, nature picks who it wants like a cheap magician and a stack of cards.
But this fire was still burning and, reluctantly, I decided to help. There were no signs of anyone home but some bastards are heavy sleepers. I busted the door down with a hankerchief in hand, calling out if anyone was still there.
It was a small home, two bedroom to be precise. From what was not already on fire I noticed the furniture was tacky. One bedroom was shut off, a few bars of wood had fallen in front of it. I gave it a peep for old time'sake.
What I saw in there made me laugh and want to cry at the same time. Some young broad was sleeping through it like a baby. I sighed and threw myself into the room. The bars were sturdy but so burned they broke pretty easily. I ran over to her bed and shook her, trying to wake her.
She gasped. Her face turned from pure happiness to hell in about a second. I couldn't blame her. If my sin den was turning into a pile of Kingsford charcoal I'd be pretty upset to.
Enough with the introspection, I grabbed her tiny frame and rushed her out of the door. The front door was fallen in, and I asked if there was another way out. I was answered with a scream and some nonsense about her pictures.
"LADY! Your pictures are gone now! Everything is gone! Please, get yourself together for five seconds and we won't be dead!"
She nodded with tears falling from her eyes like a bad romance. So childish, but I couldn't do anything to help except get her ass out of there.
She led the way to some pitiful screen door, and we busted out together.
The fire chief was standing outside, smoking.
"Knew some broad was in there. We had an informant come by and tell us it was her neighbors house, and they hadn't seem a girl named Amy all week.
I never talked to the firemen because well...they were idiots. Most of them were fat and out of shape, a pure disgrace to the heroes I had encountered in my short years of the NYPD.
I had gathered my wits after a smoke break, and began looking for the pitiful girl. She was laying in the ambulance with a blanket and some water. Just like in the movies, with that little blanket. I laughed.
I walked over and asked how she was doing. "Alright I guess. You didnt have to save me you know."
"Yeah, I know." I replied. It was true. I didnt have to do much of anything anymore. But being alone in a house with a bottle of whiskey and the only companion being said bottle, life got lonely.
"Detective, her arms. Did you see them?" The EMT asked.
To be honest, I dont think anyone could have looked at her arms. She was good looking, but Jesus, in the middle of a fire I dont care if youre Angelina Jolie.
It was sad. Her arms were covered in very obvious needle holes. The poor girl was an obvious dope addict, and to look at her face washed was another story. She had short cut brown hair; thin, sad eyebrows and gray eyes. She had a subtle jawbone and was a little scrawny. Something about her reminded me of my old high school years. Hell, more in fact. An alcoholic introverts worst nightmare is always high school. A social free-for-all, a brutally unhonest society where even the worst bullying goes unpunished. Enough with the sores though.
"Got a place to stay?" I grumbled. I knew the answer.
"No." I wondered why? A heroin addict never has any friends. They leech everything and everyone they ever loved using the drug. I dealt with it all back in vice. She needed a bath, 48 hours of detox and some new clothes.
-End of part one-
Brief Pause from Noir
I have a new idea on the way, and I am going to pause my Noir short story for a bit to pursue my new idea. Hope everyone likes it
-C
-C
Noir
The tires burned a dark smear into the pavement. The suicidal maniac I had been following for months was getting away, again. My partner Ellis commandeered a 97 Toyota Corolla off of the street, and we jumped it.
It took about 12 seconds to get it to sixty, and after awhile we were on our way. We had to catch him, now, before he got on the freeway. We had no backup anymore, we were off the grid, no help. Ellis fired a few shots from the passenger side, but no luck. We swerved off into some country road. God help us where we would end up. We drove for a few miles into some deserted hell, farmhouses galore. It was some hour into the night, and the old fellows were probably sound asleep. Good, i thought, they would be driving into hostile gunfire at about 3 miles an hour.
He led us on, probably into a trap, but we followed. The road had turned into some dust layer in between mounds of grass. Finally he led us to some hellish shack in the middle of-the middle of nowhere.
I pulled out my .38 and crawled behind the car. He hadn't slipped out any lead aspirin yet, but after all we had been through this was not the place to be merciful. This guy had to go down, now or never.
We crouched and started to make our way into the shack. The outisde was covered with antique Coca Cola signs, NEHI beverage signs, wonderbread signs. Anything from the early 50's would be found here. In my youth my father and I would have admired these, but now....
I slipped my revolver out and pushed the door open. The house stunk like a thousand garbage compactors had let milk sit in them since the dawn of time. Tears flowed down my cheeks. The gas was so unbearable, so inhumane, Ellis had to push me on. Most of the rooms were abandoned, and within them lay an assortment of miscellaneous items: lamps, dingy furniture, old blankets, sleeping bags, something a homeless man would envy. The smell was lessened near the end of the house, but it got darker as we moved on.
The man had obviously hidden somewhere, but we couldn't find anything. We reached the end of the house and found a dismal bedroom, full of guns and the like. A lifetime of jail awaited this bastard, aside from all the other sick things he had done. We doubletraced our steps, walked back and over again through this nightmare of a once lovely honeymoon house.
Finally Ellis let out a yell, and with my safety off I slammed the door to the kitchen open with my .38 aimed.
The creep had him in a hold, and I had only a fraction of a second to pull the trigger. It bounced off some dirty pan and the shadow ran into the refrigerator, leaving Ellis in a coughing fit.
As soon as he gained his breath, we crawled into the dank fridge and made our way down a claustrophobes dream staircase. I only had a few matches, thanks to my habit with Camel, and we made our way down further. Step after step, like a boat letting loose its sails in the ocean and giving up, endlessly going down and down stairs.
We somehow reached a climax at the end, and a dimly lit room awaited us. We unholstered and buckled up for the ride.
WHAP! I was hit in the back of the head...going into a spiral.....
It took about 12 seconds to get it to sixty, and after awhile we were on our way. We had to catch him, now, before he got on the freeway. We had no backup anymore, we were off the grid, no help. Ellis fired a few shots from the passenger side, but no luck. We swerved off into some country road. God help us where we would end up. We drove for a few miles into some deserted hell, farmhouses galore. It was some hour into the night, and the old fellows were probably sound asleep. Good, i thought, they would be driving into hostile gunfire at about 3 miles an hour.
He led us on, probably into a trap, but we followed. The road had turned into some dust layer in between mounds of grass. Finally he led us to some hellish shack in the middle of-the middle of nowhere.
I pulled out my .38 and crawled behind the car. He hadn't slipped out any lead aspirin yet, but after all we had been through this was not the place to be merciful. This guy had to go down, now or never.
We crouched and started to make our way into the shack. The outisde was covered with antique Coca Cola signs, NEHI beverage signs, wonderbread signs. Anything from the early 50's would be found here. In my youth my father and I would have admired these, but now....
I slipped my revolver out and pushed the door open. The house stunk like a thousand garbage compactors had let milk sit in them since the dawn of time. Tears flowed down my cheeks. The gas was so unbearable, so inhumane, Ellis had to push me on. Most of the rooms were abandoned, and within them lay an assortment of miscellaneous items: lamps, dingy furniture, old blankets, sleeping bags, something a homeless man would envy. The smell was lessened near the end of the house, but it got darker as we moved on.
The man had obviously hidden somewhere, but we couldn't find anything. We reached the end of the house and found a dismal bedroom, full of guns and the like. A lifetime of jail awaited this bastard, aside from all the other sick things he had done. We doubletraced our steps, walked back and over again through this nightmare of a once lovely honeymoon house.
Finally Ellis let out a yell, and with my safety off I slammed the door to the kitchen open with my .38 aimed.
The creep had him in a hold, and I had only a fraction of a second to pull the trigger. It bounced off some dirty pan and the shadow ran into the refrigerator, leaving Ellis in a coughing fit.
As soon as he gained his breath, we crawled into the dank fridge and made our way down a claustrophobes dream staircase. I only had a few matches, thanks to my habit with Camel, and we made our way down further. Step after step, like a boat letting loose its sails in the ocean and giving up, endlessly going down and down stairs.
We somehow reached a climax at the end, and a dimly lit room awaited us. We unholstered and buckled up for the ride.
WHAP! I was hit in the back of the head...going into a spiral.....
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
The small things
They never told me why I had never been accepted. I was born a dwarf, and my early years and been quite humiliating. My name is William.
I can remember my mother's beautiful smile. She could light up the darkest of places with her face. Sadly she passed away when I was about seven years old. My father, whom I had never gotten along with, sent me to clown school at the age of seventeen.
My life consisted of traveling across America in a circus, doing stunts like juggling and unicycling. My life was simple, but strained. I was just over three feet tall, and our boss made me do the grunt work, like fixing electric sockets, crawling under the bus to repair it.
In November of 1997 I met someone special. Felecia, an immigrant from the Czech Republic, had joined our circus crew and was a very welcome sight for me. She had been a professional dancer in her old country, and was soon to be the star of the show. We shared acts like juggling and jumping through fire hoops. She liked America very much, since we had labor laws and the like.
Every day we talked more and more. She had the most amazing green eyes and dark hair. Her skin was quite pale, but it brought out her eyes even more. We had shared a common childhood, with our mothers dying at young age, and pitiful fathers who didnt want to deal with us. Our bond was a special one, and I cherished it dearly.
Every night we conversed about our childhoods, books we remembered, stories about old friends. I liked to hear about her culture as a child, and she with mine. I learned new recipes, even learned a little bit of her native language.
Our son Roland was born on November 27th, 2001. Aside from Felicia, he was the pride and joy of my life. He was half dwarf, so he could fit in. I sent him off to a boarding school, I did not want him to deal with the circus life. I had saved money every paycheck, and sent him along with quite a fair amount of money for a college education. He still writes to me to this day.
Sadly, my happiness came to an end a few years later. Felicia had not worn her safety harness on the tight rope, and fell 200 feet and died that night. I still have nightmares about it. It was Christmas night in Houston. I sat inside my trailer for weeks alone, crying and abusing myself.
They began teasing me again, calling me rude names and making fun of my size. I left the circus a month later.
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