 
## Ashtrays to Jawbreakers

## A Compilation

# All rights reserved: Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in a database or retrieval system; without prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction.

# Names characters places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events locals or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

# Copyrighted June 2014

# All said property is owned by individual authors.

# Mista Brownstone Ink holds no claim to any individual rights or royalties

# Photos courtesy of Google Chrome

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# Table of contents

# Foreword

# Tic-Toc by Viv Drewa

# Running after Midnight" By: Schandee Decker

# Excerpts from "Wasted Youth" Jason Brierly

# Resus by Neil McGowan

# After the Fall by Aaron R Roberts

# Red Moon by J.R. Cochran

# Riffs by R. Reed Rosson

# The Isolation Horror by Kevin S. Hall

# Painting by Dave Scott

# Sneaky Creep by Chloe Hammond

# Character by Tommy J Lohman

# Afterword

## Foreword

In a perfect world, all the writers would get a fair break; judged on talent and not how big their wallet is. This is an attempt to give a few authors their just reward for being stubborn and not giving up. A hobby is not a hobby if it has the potential to be rewarding far more than personal enjoyment.

No writer ever hits it big just writing for money. It would be like saying I like breathing just to hear the wind blow. A writer puts all they have into what they create; should always attempt to do that is.

Every writer puts part of their being into what they write. Their work is as much a part of them as their heart and comes from within it .

Writing is something a writer needs to do. It's not optional, it's like breathing. If we don't write every day, even if it's just a few words, we don't sleep due to the characters in our head demanding that their stories are told. And when you get it right (or should that be write?) then the feeling is the greatest high on the planet.

## Tic-Toc

# By

## Viv Drewa

"Where the fuck you taking us?" Paul said as he looked out the jeep's window. "We're going' really far out."

"Just relax. You'll love it," Dale said. He shook his head and kept driving. Paul was a downer and he never understood why anyone would want to bring him along. It was Rip's idea, even though Rip was the one who picked on him."

"Maybe he just needs to see how to have fun," Rip had said. "Being a prodigy probably kept him from being a kid. He's not even 20 and he graduated with us. Think about it."

"Whatever," Dale said.

"Stop your bitching, Paul. We're supposed to relax for the week," Rip said already regretting bringing Paul along. Paul had a way of bringing down everyone. Bitchy little nerd!

Dale drove a little farther on the paved road then turned left on a dirt road. They passed an abandoned house that looked like it had seen better days, maybe 100 years ago. Then trees filled the area on both sides of the road.

"Fuckin' dirt road," Paul said which made the other three shake their heads and wonder if Paul was ever going to learn to stop complaining.

"It's only a few more miles and we'll be able to set up camp," Dale said. "And the road's not that bad."

"Yeah, Paul," Rip was really getting angry. "This isn't even your vehicle so why the hell are you complaining? Just sit there and shut your damn mouth!"

Paul looked at Rip and knew he was being scolded. Being the youngest in this group of electromechanical engineers had its problems. He was 18 when he got his master's degree and thought this was why they kept picking on him. He didn't realize he was still acting like a teenager. Rip's reprimanding sometimes confused him.

"Here we are," Dale said, and pulled off the road. "We can get set up here." The opening in the forest was large enough to have a fire pit and for the four of them to put their sleeping bags around it. Rip and George took the coolers and put them under a nearby tree.

"Where do we go if we need more ice?" Paul asked trying not to sound like he was whining.

"There's a gas station four miles from here where we can get more ice and food and whatever we need," Dale said.

"So you've been here before?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, my dad, brother and I used to spend a lot of time here. It's a great place to relax," Dale told him. "Just sit and bull shit all we want. Drink beer. There's a stream a short walk from here where we can catch dinner."

"That's why Dale brought his fishing gear," Rip said. "And he has a couple extra rods for us if we want to fish."

"What about having a fishing license?" Paul asked.

"That won't be a problem. DNR doesn't come around here," Dale said.

Paul nodded his head and decided not to say anything else. He hated fishing. His father was constantly trying to get him to go, but he couldn't stand the thought of touching worms or the fish. And forget about cleaning them!

They get themselves situated and George, an adventuresome fellow, wanted to go for a short walk.

"I'll just stay here," Paul said. "I don't feel like walkin' around just yet. Anyway, I'll get the first started."

The others started out for the woods.

"A little further and we'll be at the fishing hole," Dale said.

The woods had a variety of trees which had a full canopy. They see small animal tracks and come upon a dead skunk.

"Better not tell Paul about that," George said as he looked around for something to dig a hole and bury it. He finds a strong branch and starts digging.

"He'll lose it for sure," Rip said. "Dead things really seem to get to him."

"Looks like some kind of scavenger got to it. And not a very big one from the size of the bites," George said as he began to push it into the hole and cover it.

"Could just be flies, or some other insect," Rip said. George finished pushing the dirt to cover it. "Anyone want to say anything?" Rip, always a joker, asked.

"Asshole," George looked at him and shook his head.

"I can hear the stream so we're pretty close," Dale said and headed in the direction of the sound. Rip and George follow.

The three stop at a two-foot drop off near the stream. It's gentle current has a calming effect.

"How far does it go?" George asked as he slid down the embankment.

"Don't really know," Dale said and followed him down. "My dad never ventured down, just stayed right here."

George didn't follow them and continued on parallel to the stream. He saw a large building in the distance, but he couldn't tell exactly how far away it was. Maybe half a mile or more. The trees made it hard for him to estimate it.

Dale and George stepped back up and walked over to where George was and wondered what he was looking at.

"There's some kind of building over there. I can't make out what it is, and I saw a few people there. Do you know what it is, Dale?"

"I know there was an old medical center around here. It's been closed for years. Maybe they're restoring it."

"Why? There aren't any homes around here," George asked.

"Maybe they're planning on building here soon. They might want to get this set up to help any builders or whatever if they get hurt on the job," Rip said.

"Let's get back before Paul starts griping," Dale said. The three turn around and head back to their site.

Paul had built a nice fire and was sitting near it reading. He was always reading. He looked up when he saw the three of them approach.

"Thought you got lost," Paul said closing his book. "You've been gone quite a long while."

"Sorry, mom, we won't wander any more today," Rip said sarcastically.

"It's just now starting to get dark. We weren't going to stay out that long," Dale said and sat on his sleeping bag. "I was starting to get hungry, anyway."

George stood and headed for the coolers. "You guys want dogs or patties?"

"Dogs sound good," Rip said and looked at everyone else. They all nodded their heads.

"Someone get the buns and stuff out and I'll start cooking," George said. "How many you guys want?"

"Two for me," Rip said as he went to put the buns and condiments on their table.

"You guys?"

"Just make two for everyone," Dale said. "They'll get eaten.

Dale checked his blood sugar and took the insulin he needed. He didn't want to have any problems on this trip. It took him long enough to get his insulin levels regulated and wasn't about to screw them up.

George got the dogs and Rip went to get the rest of the condiments. They had a small camping table for the buns, catchup, mustard and onions. Then Rip went back to get the beer, gave one to George, and handed one to the other two.

This was the only time Paul felt like part of the group. Drinking beer with them. Even though he still wasn't 21 they didn't bitch at him about drinking. They didn't bitch at him about anything.

When they finished they all had another beer and it finally got dark. Paul stoked the fire and added more wood.

"Why are you doing that?" Rip asked him.

"To keep predators away at night. I don't know what's out there. Do you?"

"Nothing that will hurt us," Dale said. "All the years I've been here we never had anything bother us. Dad never kept a fire burning while we slept."

"I'm not taking any chances," Paul said.

Dale shook his head. "I'm going to sleep. I want to go to that building tomorrow and see what's going on."

"What buildin'?" Paul asked.

"George saw a building about a half mile away from the stream today. We kinda want to check it out," Dale said. "I'm going to sleep," he repeated. "Good night," he said and crawled into his sleeping bag. He fell asleep instantly.

"Yeah, think I'll do the same," George said and crawled into his. "Night."

Rip and Paul stayed up a little longer. Not talking just watching the fire.

Dale woke to the sound of the crackling of the fire. Would Paul have really kept it going all night? Maybe they're just getting ready for breakfast. He has to pee so he unzips his sleeping bag and stands up. He noticed the fire was out and he could still hear the crackling.

Dale stretched and rubbed his eyes then looked at the three other sleeping bags. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. He looked for his glasses but couldn't find them. He squinted to see better but that didn't help. He walked over to Paul's sleeping bag, then the others.

Where the hell were the tops of the bags and what the hell is moving on top of the guys? The guys! All he saw were remains! These things were eating his friends! What the fuck, he thought.

He walked around to all the sleeping bags and each was as bad the other. The top layers of their skin were being eaten by these things.

Dale started to shake and his legs felt like rubber. He was having trouble thinking. He forgot he had to pee. What to do? Why didn't they attack me? He strained to look into the woods and thought he saw millions of them. He didn't have any on him or in his sleeping bag. Then he began to sweat and shake harder. The stress must have thrown his sugar off and he headed over to his sleeping bag to get his kit. He took it to his jeep and locked the doors behind him.

His sugar was 346. Shit, it's up. Must be from the stress he was feeling. It always went up whenever he got upset, not to mention the two beers he drank last night. He drew up what insulin he needed in a syringe and gave him his shot in his stomach. Dale sat and waited to start feeling better, plus he felt safe from the large ticks. They were the size of a nickle! He knew it was silly to lock the doors. Must've been a reflex.

He remembered the building George saw the day before and decided to go there. If it was a medical facility again they might be able to help. But help how? His friends were all dead. There was no way they could be helped. He needs to get some of these things, tics he thinks, and get them to a lab.

Dale dumps out his diabetic test strips and gets out of the jeep to get some of the ticks. Damn, they were big! He starts shaking again. Did his sugar fall now? Fuck! Dale managed to get several into the container and snapped the lid shut.

He hears the ticks crackle under his feet and he starts feeling nauseous. Fucking diabetes! Dale got in his jeep and felt like he would be able to make the drive to that building. He starts sweating profusely, a sign he knows well from being diabetic: his sugar was getting very low. He doesn't understand why it dropped because he took the right dose not too long ago. In his jacket pocket he always kept glucose tablets, but his jacket was by his sleeping bag, and he had no intention of getting out of his jeep until he got out of there.

Dale decides to drive slowly. The crackling of the ticks under his tires only added to his nausea.

By the time he reached the building he was starting to feel dizzy. Dale parked close to the main doors and saw other vehicles in the parking lot. People were here.

Shaking, he picked up the container with the ticks and starts to get out of the jeep. Fortunately, there are only three steps to the door and he hoped he could make it to the doors. He put the container in his breast pocket and swung his legs out first. He steadied himself on the jeep's door and fought to walk. One foot in front of the other, steady, he makes it to the first step and grabs the railing. Dale's getting worse. He pulled himself up the steps feeling everything going dark around him.

The next thing he remembered was being in a hospital bed and saw a dextrose IV attached to his arm. They found him. He was safe now. He relaxed a little. Dale tried to sit up but gentle hands pushed him down.

"You should rest," a nurse said to him. He couldn't see clearly yet and figured his vision was off. Plus he didn't have his glasses. He wondered if he drove here without them. He couldn't remember anything. Just that he had to get help for his friends.

"What's your name? What time is it?" he asked. He couldn't see what he thought was a clock on the wall.

"I'm Becky. Don't worry about the time," she said and tucked the blankets around him. "The doctor will be in shortly."

"So this is a medical center," he said more than a fact than a question.

She thought for a moment and said, "Yes."

"How long has it been opened?" Dale asked.

The nurse realized he wasn't going to let her go until she answered all of his questions. "It opened about two years ago. We're a research facility but also have the resources for emergency care. The doctor will be in to speak to you. He can answer your questions."

She turned and headed out of his room before he could ask any more questions.

He wanted badly to get up but he still felt so weak. The sugar in the IV should start to help soon. He knew his sugar dropped and wondered if he gave himself the wrong amount of insulin. He closed his eyes and decided to wait to talk to the doctor.

Becky quickly walked to the desk down the corridor from Dale's room. Dr. Nick Peterson was looking over some papers.

"How is our young guest?" he asked Becky.

"He has a lot of questions," Becky answered. "I told him you would be in to talk to him."

"Hm. Dr. Compton has his blood work. She thinks she might have a cure for his diabetes."

"Wonderful! It looks like we're starting to make progress here," Becky said and smiled at Dr. Peterson.

He nodded his head. "It's too bad she only has another year with us though. She and Dr. Lang have come so far in their cancer research. In no time that will be no more than a bad dream."

"How much longer will Dr. Lang be here?"

"He has three years. I like when they have more time like that. We can't get things done like this. We need to have people here longer than three years."

"Dr. Downey has asked for more help. He's trying to find a way to keep us here longer," Becky said. "I only have eight months before I'm done."

"He has made progress with diabetes, though. So our young tenant should be ready to harvest."

Dr. Peterson put down the papers he was holding and took the clipboard from Becky. He headed into the room to see Dale.

"Well, are you feeling any better?" Dr. Peterson asked. He walked over to Dale and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah. I feel better. Can I call my parents?" Dale didn't like that he didn't have his glasses. "And I must have left my glasses at the camp site."

"We'll send someone to get them," Dr. Peterson said. "And as for calling anyone the phone lines aren't working and there are no cell towers here yet."

"We need to call the police and let them know what happened," Dale started getting upset.

"Calm down, calm down. We sent one of our staff to the police station so everything will be taken care of.

"I should have the rest of your blood work soon and we can go from there. I'll be back then to talk to you. Just get some rest, and be assured everything is being taken care of."

Dale felt like he was in a bad dream. His three friends were dead, he couldn't call his parents, and he can't see clearly. He didn't really trust the doctor for some reason but did as he was told. It could just be his sugar is still a little out of whack.

Dr. Peterson left the room and went back to the desk just as Dr. Downey ran up to him.

"We have the cure," Dr. Downey said breathlessly.

"For the diabetes?" Dr. Peterson asked.

"No. The longevity cure. Dr. Lang and I finally found it," Dr. Downey was wide-eyed and excited. "Looks like I'll be here much longer."

"Has he tested it?"

"Yes. On me since I have the shortest life span. My blood work shows its working as we hoped."

"Great. Let's get everyone immunized so we can continue our work uninterrupted. The sooner we find cures for the human's diseases the sooner we'll be in control."

**Viv Drewa** –author of "Owl of the Sipian lord", "From the Pages of Grandfather's Life" and "Angler and the Owl" – is a Michigan native who has enjoyed reading and writing since 1963. Though she studied medicinal chemistry at the University of Michigan her passion has always been writing. She was awarded third place for her nonfiction short story about her grandfather's escape from Poland.

Later, she rewrote this story and was published in the "Polish American Journal" as ""From the Pages of Grandfather's Life". Viv then took creative and journalism courses to help in her transition to fulfill her dream of becoming a writer. She worked as an intern for Port Huron's 'The Times Herald", and also wrote, edited and did the layout or the Blue Water Multiple Sclerosis newsletter "Thumb Prints." She spends her free time working with physically and mentally challenged adults; a cause close to her heart.©2014

## Running After Midnight Part One

# By

## Schandee Decker

I'm running. Running through a thick fog. I feel the scraping of branches on my face. I feel the cold of the night and it surrounds me. My face starts to sting from those scratches. I can't make out much of anything. Some very faint blurs of light in the distance guide me. I'm afraid to stop running because something is chasing me. My heart is pounding like it's going to jump out of my chest.

I can hear something behind me and its heavy body thumping on the ground just at my feet. When I feel a horrible heavy object hit me from behind and my body slowly giving into the blow. I fall to the ground in slow motion and my eyes trying to focus but it's just a large dark figure, taking over the fog. I feel so terrified and then a sleep comes over me as something lifts my limp body into the air.

The next thing I know I'm waking and my hands, arms and legs are confined. It's very dark and stuffy, my eyes still having trouble focusing. When I suddenly feel alarmed by the burning at the back of my head and I'm moving. I must be in the trunk of a car and it hits a big bump and the pain from the back of my head shoots all through me like lightning struck. I want to scream but something is stuffed in my mouth. When the vehicle comes to a stop, I hear car doors open. My heart starts pounding even harder and a cold chill goes through my spine.

I can hear a man yell in a deep voice "open the barn doors". I'm now realizing there is more than one person. I hear the trunk begin to open and I begin to tear up and I think my hearts going to explode. I still can't focus but this large dark figure of a man throws me over his shoulder and brings me into a barn. My head is pounding and the pain is great. I just keep thinking are they going to kill me? The man throws me on some hay stacks and says to the other " We will come back for her later, after the heat dies down."

I lay there trying to focus but I begin to lose consciousness. I black out. I suddenly feel something grab my arm "Wake up Meredith. You're having another vision". My husband Steve and I have been married for 25 years and he's put up with my visions for years. My name is Meredith Jones; I was born in Flint Michigan. I was raised there for the beginning of my life. I was young when we moved to New York. It was the summer of 1980.

I've been in New York ever since. As a family we lived in a small town called Granville. Most of the people are the hardworking, peaceful type but others not so much. They definitely do like to gossip though. I'm usually one of the victims of these rumors. I wasn't born a psychic. It came to me later in life. These powers have left a dent in my life, that's hard to explain.

My husband Steve Jones and I got married when I was 20 and we had three wonderful children. They're all grown now and doing their own things. Steve's been a great husband, we've had our share of fights but he stuck by my side threw all of the visions and traveling to find people we need to save.

Thank God he works from home on his own time. He is a well-known author of many thrillers and my visions helped some of his books. The good thing about Steve is he was always able to write almost anywhere, so travel was never a problem and my parents always willing to help with the children. My visions always seem to happen, rate after midnight and I always seem to be running, for my life.

So I wake up and Steve already is gone to make coffee, I can never go back to sleep. Everything the person feels I feel and my heart is still racing. Steve was also part of the Marine Corp. and keeps himself in shape and enjoys hunting and going to the shooting range, just outside of town. He has had to save me more than once from my helping the people I found in my visions. They're not always as willing to except what I say and the people chasing them, I've come face to face with and had my own share of wounds to show for it. This is the one that changed mine and Steve's life forever. I didn't know it that night but this was my story for the first time. All those years of helping others and this time it was really me, I just didn't know it at the time.

So I need to tell you about the accident that started my visions. Some psychics are born with this ability and some get it through an unusual event. I was about 28 years old and on my way to work in a snow storm, when I went off the road and took a really hard blow to the head. I was unconscious for a while about a half an hour or more before someone found me and called for help.

I died on the way to the hospital, my heart rate had slowed down too much and I felt an out of body experience but I wasn't afraid. I found myself just floating over my body, wondering what to do. I watched them working on me with everything they had, when one electrical shock sent me into a deep sleep. I woke up a week later to a very worried Steve and all of my children Jess, Jeff and Josh.

This opened up a new part of my mind it's the part that normally suppresses all those things that go bump in the night. I have the gift of visions, if you want to call it a gift. It feels more like a curse at times. The thing about the visions is they come like a dream but its pieces of something and then I need to try and find the person before something bad happens. I not only get visions but I see ghosts also and they're not usually scary but sometimes angry ones who had their life taken to soon, are vengeful but really just need guidance to the light. The ones you really need to look out for are the children. All children go to heaven, there is no such thing as a child ghost unless they were evil in life. They're the worst because their soul was touched by Satan or they're a demon using a childlike disguise.

The first thing I saw during my hospital stay was a very old woman, who had recently died in the bed next to me. It was at midnight when I felt a breeze and looked to see if the window was open. I heard a voice say in a strange weak state "please tell my daughter I love her and forgive her" and then a mist came from her body. The mist started to look like a negative of a photograph and it floated over to the window. Then it went out the window and up, I thought it was a dream until the next morning. I heard some talking one of the nurses was talking to a woman "I'm sorry she slipped away peacefully in the night". The woman was tearing up and said "I never got to tell her sorry for not being there, she fell and I didn't get there in time, I was running late". I wanted to tell her what she said but I was still in shock. Later that day she came back to get her things. I expressed my feeling of sorrow for her and told her, she spoke to me at midnight briefly before she passed. "She told me to tell you that she loved you and she forgave you".

She looked deep into my eyes and said "child, you have the gift". I was a bit creped out and said "what do you mean I have the gift." She was a spiritually woman who believed in the supernatural and contact with the dead. She said "if my mother talked to you it's because she was dead, see child she was born deaf and never spoke a word to anyone, she only knew sign language."

I just stared at her for a few minutes trying to really understand what happened. She handed me a card with the name of a spiritual guide, not a typical psychic and said "if I need to talk about this, she is the best her name was Loni Williams. I also want to thank you for giving me the message from my mom" as she held my hand and left with a tear. I said "you're welcome as she left and I'm sorry she is gone."

Before we go back to the present I would like to go back to my very first vision. It was the summer of 2001 every night for about a month I would have the same visions but at that time I called it a nightmare. I would be running through a park, one I wasn't familiar with but I always ran towards a large building that seemed secluded from everything else. It may have been an old mansion or an old building like maybe a hospital in the old days.

It was abandoned and was eerie and I would run through the park into the woods near this old building. Just as I ran up the stairs something grabbed me and then I would wake up in a cold sweat. Some nights Steve would wake me up and ask "where are you going? You're huffing and puffing, and the bed is shaking." We would both laugh and I would say some dumb thing like "I was running from you to my boyfriend."

I finally confessed the dream was really terrifying and about the ghost I saw in the hospital. I also had seen ghosts in other places like down near the river where a young man had drowned. I saw an old librarian in the town library and I had even seen my mom at her gravesite, not that she lived there, it's just where the living expect to find them and so they can find us. He just stared for a while with wonder on his face like I have to approach this carefully. Then he said "maybe we should talk to the doctor and have some scans done, just in case they missed something, after the accident."

I just glared for a minute and finally said "you don't believe me do you, this is why I didn't tell you in the first place." Steve starts laughing, he always does that when he knows my temper is about to flare.

"I wasn't saying I didn't believe what you're saying; I just meant we should find out why you're seeing these things." I'm now turning red and yell "so you just want to find out if I'm a nut job, RIGHT!!!!" Steve now laughing harder says "no I already know what kind of nut job you are, I just thought an official diagnosis was in order."

Now I begin to laugh and swat at him in a playful manor "you pain in the rear don't make me laugh when I'm trying to be angry." He knows I'm a sucker for his laugh and his big beautiful brown eyes. So after wrestling around for a while, I said "ok I'll at least talk to the doctor and I may actually look up this psychic and see what she has to say."

We both agreed it wasn't worth arguing over and he went to his office, to work on his latest novel called "Running after Midnight" it's about this serial killer stalking women with green eyes and red hair, usually around early 20's with perfect builds. The killer's mom was blond with blue eyes and hated red heads with green eyes for stealing her husband and she abused her son and taught him how to kill. She sent him to school to become a mortician.

So he could easily dispose of the bodies, with no one ever expecting. The sicko would hide the bodies in coffins under his client's dead bodies. So while people were on display at the funeral home, he had this creepy satisfaction that the bodies were almost in plain sight and no one was the wiser. I'm not sure who is creepier the man in the story or my husband for writing it.

"So I went to the doctors and he decided to run some tests, to rule out physical problems before diving into my mind." Steve said "I knew it; he is as terrified of your mind as I am." I threw my book at him that I was reading about the supernatural and how psychics fit in. He was about to throw it back at me, when he noticed what it said, then some more harassment began.

"So now you think you're a psychic and you're troubled by supernatural as in just a ghost or do you see other things like vampires, werewolves and witches. (With an evil grin) maybe it's an evil bunny with nasty blood sucking teeth." While laughing at himself he begins saying "here comes Freddie Cottontail hoping down the bloody trail, hip pity hop pity the Freddie bunnies on his way."

My face is red "very funny, please keep it down before one of the kids hears that ghastly song and sings it in church, you know the boys would."

Steve says "alright enough for one evening I love you I'm off to bed" and kissed me on the head. I stayed up late reading my book. I feel asleep reading and I began the same dream in the park, then in through the woods to the old building. I get grabbed from behind only this time I don't wake up and I feel something left me and I'm carried into the building.

It feels so real my heart is pumping hard as if I can hear my heart and feel the flow of my blood through my veins, it so cold. My heart just wants to come out THUMP, THUMP. I'm thrown on an old bed in this very dreary old room. The curtains are all torn, there are leaves all over the floor, and I feel the wind on my face from outside the window. All the glass has been broken and I see a crow outside the window. The crow shrieks with CAW, CAW and tries to get in but none of the missing window panes are big enough.

I can see a figure but my eyes are weary as I'm drifting off and it ties me too the bed. I see an old photo of a family on the wall and I know them but can't remember where I saw them. I now drift off in the dream when my husband grabs my arm, "hey it's about 12:10 am in the darn morning are you coming to bed or what?" I suddenly realize as usual the dream begins around midnight and I suddenly feel very cold. I wake up again and he isn't there but instead this young woman is pure white and she looks dead and she taps on the window.

So I go over to the window while feeling this horrible dread and impending doom. She points over to the town's library and then vanishes. When I hear my husband call "Meredith what are you doing?" I ran up the stairs out of curiosity. Only to find he was talking in his sleep again, so I nudged him off my side of the bed and crawled in, to sleep.

I didn't know why the young girl pointed to the library but I thought maybe something will stick out if I go there. I asked Steve if he wanted to go and he was busy with his own book. So I made him breakfast and the kids got them off to school and headed for the library. I was looking around the section in the library with old photos of the town before all the newer buildings. When I noticed a much nicer version of the old house I've been seeing. It belonged to the Harrison family, a wealthy family that lost its money to some bad investments. Then I turned towards a family photo of the Harrisons and it was the same photo of the family, I saw as the other person in my dream.

I found some old articles about them in the library archives. The family died in 1912, they were all found hung in the living room of the mansion, all but the son Henry Harrison just 5 years old. He was found tied up in his bedroom hungry and emotionally disturbed. He never spoke a word and lived in an asylum most of his teen life. Until a strange doctor came to town by the name Hans Van guilder with a German accent and claimed he could cure him of his silence. No one knows what he did and some believe it was black magic but in 2 months' time the young man was talking and behaving normal. By the time he was 18 years old he was able to go to college for business and soon after married had children of his own and restored the family name. He never went back to his old home and it was left to ruin. It now sits in the woods behind the Wal-Mart. The Wal-Mart was built over the old park which was closed after too many children screaming in terror of something in the woods, with glowing eyes and large teeth. It was more or less a superstitious thing but the further we go back in time, the more people believed in things that go bump in the night.

I asked for copies of the old articles and a map of the town before 1912 and the new map for 2001. So I took my new treasures home at about 6:00 pm to an annoyed husband and three starving children. They all wanted me to get cooking dinner, so I made them all happy by making spaghetti and meatballs, not only the house favorite but saved me from the angry mob on more than one occasion.

So after dinner and the kids went to bed, Steve was back to his novel about the evil red head killer. I was looking at the old map and the new map. So I know where the new Wal-mart is I'm cheap and it's one of my favorite stores. So I can close my eyes and visualize the old park, the woods and the old house. I feel so frustrated because I don't really understand what any of this means but now I know the where. I need to go check the place out. This isn't going make Steve happy but I hope he will go with me.

So I go into Steve's study where he is listening to Kiss, his favorite band. He always puts a do not disturb sign on the door, a memento from our honeymoon in Hawaii. He just thought it was the best memory of our trip, all the times we put, do not disturb on the door. I always loved this about him he was a true romantic in a redneck way!!

So the first thing I have to do is grab his drink because he has Kiss banging in his ears. I've made him jump on more than one occasion and he lost two laptops, an electric typewriter and one desktop to flying coffee and other objects. He is always a Marine ready for whatever he needs to take out. So it's go for the drink and duck if you need too. I quickly grab his coffee mug and startled him and ducked before I was slapped with and open palm swing. Thank God my reflexes are sharp, it's like this with great clumsiness comes good reflexes. So after the event he begins to apologize with a sudden "do not disturb sign, you better be in trouble".

I start laughing at his 360 change from sorry to your going to fly off my foot if there isn't a good reason. I'm trying to stop laughing "I'm sorry it's not life or death but I have something important to discuss with you."

Steve not looking very amused by my laughter or intrusion "you couldn't have done this at dinner or before I came back to my work. The keyword here being work this is my office and get away place and for cry in out loud quit your laughing."

I try to look serious "I'm sorry I couldn't talk about this stuff in front of the kids and I just decided what I need to do." Steve replies back "well now I'm interested and less annoyed, so what's up?"

"I need you to hear me out before you get upset and tell me no. I've done some research about the building I've been dreaming about for the last month or two. I went to the library and found the place and the family I saw in the photo. They were a wealthy family that owned a house that now sits behind the Wal-Mart in town. I want you to go with me in the night tomorrow just before midnight, I'll ask mom and dad to take the kids for the night."

Steve with a puzzled look on his face "let me get this straight, you want to go to an old house behind Wal-Mart before midnight, passed my bedtime to investigate in the dark for clues to your dream."

"Well yes that's pretty much it in a nutshell but it wouldn't be dark, we'll take flashlights."

At that his face lost all expression and I got nervous "ok I was afraid you wanted to go without any light, smartass, (a new expression came over his face) so if I do this favor, that means you owe me big time."

I knew what was coming before he said it, the big party for all the hunters in his lodge. Steve grew up here his whole life and his family was friends with all of the old families in town. The men all built this cabin deep in the woods near the Indian River. It was a retreat for the men, when they went hunting or fishing. It was also a party place and they all work on up keep and have remodeled a few times.

I think it's good for him to get away; it's keeps our marriage in better check. This year I asked him to give up the party to go with me to see my family in Michigan. He reluctantly said "yes but you owe me a big one for this, not that I don't love your family but I've never missed this annual party and I started going, as soon as I was old enough to go with my dad to the first meeting." So before he asked I said "yes I'll change my trip to Michigan so you won't miss your lodge party."

Steve looked at me for a minute and said "it's a deal but it must be in writing, so you don't change your mind on me." "Are you serious? A hand shake won't do?"

Steve with his evil grin "no you've done the hand shake before and forgot, so I'm writing it up and you have to sign it before I go."

I'm a bit annoyed because my word isn't good enough but in all honesty, I have forgotten on purpose before. "Alright it's a deal I'll sign the contract before we go."

I'm so nervous about what we will find I have a hard time falling asleep. I finally fall asleep and begin to see the park; I'm running into the woods, and up the steps. I feel something grab me and carry me to the same old room and I see the crow tapping on the window. This time I feel like I'm moving out of the body and I'm looking at her from on the ceiling, a young woman is lying there dead. She can't be more than 20 years old and she has blond hair and bright big blues eyes, there is fear in her eyes and tears falling down her cheeks. I feel like I'm looking at myself but the fear is gone and I now feel freedom as I drift further up in the sky. When I feel someone grab my arm but I just want to keep drifting it feels so good to fly. I keep pulling my arm when Steve says "what are you doing, I'm just making sure you're ok and tell you to move over because you're snoring to loud."

So the day took forever but finally we dropped the kids off around 8 pm. Steve and I prepared a bag of things like flashlights, batteries a first aid kit because we're both accident prone. He said "hey lets have some fun and take a recorder like the Ghost Adventurers and see what happens." So he took a tape recorder and we had some bottled water which Steve asked "should we get this blessed first?" I'm laughing "no we don't need it blessed but I might need to get you an exorcism someday."

He then pulled out the contract and I signed it quickly without reading it. He puts it in his pocket with a smile "wow I can add some stuff since you didn't read it." I just gave him a glare "I don't think so, I'll read it later."

So we get into his truck and head out for Wal-Mart and go behind the building. There is an old narrow and creepy dirt road and we keep hitting potholes while braches are scraping the windows. We get so close to the old house but a large tree is across the drive way and we can't get through.

We're going to need to walk the rest of the way. So we get our gear, two backpacks filled with whatever you may need on a scavenger hunt with flashlights in hand. We get to the front of the house "this is the place I've been dreaming about." It was windy and all kinds of noises mostly normal like owls and wings fluttering and a crow landed just in front of us. We both jumped and I screamed but I put my hand over my mouth to muffle it. Then we both laughed a bit and he says "let's get this over with."

So we go in the building and Steve starts his impression of the Ghost Adventures with his recorder going. "Is there anyone here? Are you one of the Harrisons who died here? Have you seen the Freddie Bunny anywhere?"

I then felt inclined to swat him. "I know you don't believe but stop the nonsense" Just then we both heard a weak voice say "help me." We just looked at each other and he played it back the voice was low but we could hear evil laughter and "help me." We then heard a large crash in the room above us. So Steve who is always ready ran up the stairs with his rifle in hand and I'm right behind him. We get to the room and there on the bed was the young girl only we were too late, she was gone.

We both looked at each other in shock and horror; this was more real than either of us ever expected. There was sound like tapping in a closet and we both thought is that the killer still here. So I went to the wall behind and he stood there with the rifle and I opened the door quickly towards myself. Out flew a crow and headed right for his face but behind it was a much more menacing figure. This was a large man and he ran right over Steve and never stopped.

We called the police from Wal-Mart and had to go to the precinct and tell them all we knew. It's not easy to explain you saw this in a dream state and the looks.

The young girl wasn't from around her; she was missing from Ohio, abducted about five nights ago. She was walking through the town park and was chased by a large dark figure into the woods. She hasn't been seen since. She was an only child.

I feel so much for her family, it's got to be a horrible feeling, which I can only imagine, to not know where your baby is, only to be found murdered in another state. The case was never solved and has since become a cold case but I've never been able to get it out of my mind. He beautiful lifeless face and the feeling of freedom from her capture she felt, as she drifted into the unknown.

I'll leave you with this my story is only beginning but I must leave for now. Steve is getting ready for his lodge party and I'm still doing research on this new vision. I'm safe for now to tell more tales but there is not limits to a place, that there is no real understanding of and we all live on the brink, never knowing what dark figure lurks from behind. The scariest place on earth at times, is within one's own mind.

**Schandee Decker** –Author of "Seven Living Truths" was born May 13, 1969, in Flint Michigan. She was there for most of what you would consider her young childhood. In Michigan she had many cousins and they loved to play outside.

Schandee was a child of the seventies and wanted to look like Cher and marry Elvis. When she got older, she was big fan of Linda Carter. I wanted to be strong like Wonder Woman, also the Bionic Woman, Jamie.

Schandee then when she was 11 she moved to New York the summer of 1980, into my great grandma Jones house. Her teenage years would be spent in New York. Her favorite place to be was at camp Clarmac on Lake Saint Catherine, in Poultney, Wells Vermont. ©2014

## Excerpts From 'Wasted Youth Remembers'

# by

## Jason "Intricate B" Brierly

### Reasons...

### March 14, 2011 at 9:16pm

Is it really worth the stresses and pains of everyday life? The constant this and that... I love you... I love the beautiful children that we call ours... The four sole reasons that I am here... On this plane of existence... But the pain.. Physical and mental of the constant.. My brain is of the scattered sort, and my mind a jumble.. I am trying like none other to not suffer from the things that make us suffer, but to suffer seems to be the way of life.. Thus life has dealt the swift kick to the proverbial ass, that is my heart.. It aches and hurts and yearns for the life of the norm with my four soul purposes for being, but on comes the agony of aging and all of the mental and physical of the sort.. Often my mind is led astray with thoughts of a lyrical suicide, only to be drawn back into the warmth and comfort of the hearts of my kindred spirits, and all is good.. And all is good.. And all is good.. From the depths, I hurt, for the agony of what I ail from, but the love and touch of my four, erase all that pain and agony of life.. Confusion sets in, and I weight the odds.. Tough it out as I always have.. The pain and stresses made worth it.. Brought to me and presented in HD by my sponsors, THE ONLY FOUR I LOVE!!(tm)

### I am a shit head..

### May 27, 2011 at 8:09pm

You mean the world to me.. You are my world.. My sun, and my universe.. When I act out, and release, all the bottled up aches and pains of yester year, I direct them not at you.. You are my best friend, my soul mate, my wife, my lover, my bff, and my p.i.c., and when you are witness to my actions, and equal reactions, you can see firsthand, the scars, and battle wounds and torment that gets kept in that proverbial bottle.. While it may seem to you that i lash out at you, you couldn't be more wrong.. I lash out in pain at the mistakes I've made, and the mistakes I've made in poor choice.. I lash out at those who have hurt and tormented and numbed and fucked me up.. You are an angel.. You are my angel.. All i ask is that you show me some patience.. I am hurting just as much as you, and for this reason, we really need to stick together, not drift apart.. i love you more than life itsself, and would do anything to keep us together.. For my asshole streaks, i apologise.. For my attitude, I apologise..

I love you so much baby girl.. Without you, I'm nothing..

### My insight...

### June 28, 2011 at 3:44pm

She appears before the intimidating clouds and realizes that hum drum is the ultimate act of defiance as we clean the barrel of our pistols...

### Mindless ramblings..

### June 28, 2011 at 3:47pm

As i awaken from this perpetual state of being, i realize nothing is real... No one is real... You light the Molotov cocktail of the equilibrium and falter as it blows up in your face... Put that one in your pipe and smoke it... The only things in the world that a matter anyways is gummy worms and dung Beatles, because the true meaning of life is YOU.....

### Found...

### June 28, 2011 at 3:49pm

This is the fine find that i found when i found that i think, therefore i am.. the time that i find that i have and have not, is the time that should be cherished except the time cherished is the time i wish passed.. Past tense, I wish I had the time lost: cherished for three years' time passed. Three birthdays. No more? Perhaps. Perhaps I should take time and learn. Learn that wasted time passed should be in the past, used to learn and not waste past times. But past times, times the past tense of time equals the times lost plus the times cherished and earned to all equal the times we learned. Times not so wasted. Times.. Lessons learned.. Equals too much time to write shit like this..

### #75

### June 28, 2011 at 3:51pm

I think and count. Uncounted to be unaccounted for? Unaccounted and ransacked in the proverbial head that is me. Mine. Mind plus the mindless equals, what? Said out loud one would be accused of crazy: "lock him up!!" {Out loud}.. "Poetry and flower try of the maximum sort" {on paper}.. Try? To write on paper craziness and mindlessness not so mindless. not so crazy. Loopy maybe, crazy not.. Get it out and calm. Ease. Time to rest. Or not. Crazy, mindless speech and no time to sit. To sleep. Get it out not, and i feel like the tea kettle ready to boil over onto the stove that is my sanity.. But wait!! i write therefore am balanced. On the teetering edge of sanity and in.. Confusion on the control of paper is good reading.. Let lose my mind and here we go.. The flow of poetry and you like what you see. My nuts for your entertainment. My pain, your gain. Have a seat. Welcome. Enjoy. Mindful spurts with mindless ramblings, and this is where we part..

### Hatred translated tymes one..

### June 28, 2011 at 3:53pm

Ok dude, for real you can go right on out and fuck yourself.. Not in the Sylvia Plath sense of fucking yourself, because ultimately in the end, we all end up fucking ourselves.. No.. I mean in the literal sense of fucking yourself. Full on to the hilt, balls deep in a midget fucking you, fuck yourself. Let fall the pants and let slide the proverbial -or metaphorical. Whichever the case may be- penis in the act of fucking ones-self.. The, "I hate you so intensely, I wish all bodily harm upon you" sense of fucking yourself.. The "May you die from a staph infection originated in a festering herpes sore that you caught from a French transvestite prostitute" fuck yourself.. Fuck yourself with all intent of giving yourself the gift that keeps on giving that is presented in the wonderful world of S.T.D.ism you fucking mother fucking piece of shit fucking mother fucking fucking fuck!!!! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!! Have a good day..

### Reprise

### June 28, 2011 at 3:54pm

The chaos theory of past time equals the organized times pressed upon me today. Past mistakes, passed retributions and partial multitudes of masses and tens of thousands of past time classes pass times when the glasses of the blind, blind the sight un seen with the untimely times passed or wasted. Wasted with the intent of incompetence embraced on the magnifying glass of half full.. Optimism is up when we raise out glass in celebration of passed times plus birthdays survived within the past time of nothingness. Mindless ramblings equal nonsense of nonsense, ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Fuck it! I'm done in the past tense. Deuces..

### You saved my life...

### June 28, 2011 at 3:55pm

I love you more than words could ever say...

However, since I've been told that I'm somewhat good at expressing myself in the form of writing, I'll give it a running go..

In my life, I've been through a lot of pains and hardships. I've been in and out of various addictions. By all means, to anyone else's standards, I shouldn't be breathing.. I should've been dead long ago. But for some reason I survived. Many people have told me, "God has a purpose for you." "There is a reason you're still here."

People would tell me this, and a lot due to the fact that I all but gave up on faith, I would say that they didn't know what they were talking about. I would go to sleep and the only praying I would do was the praying that I wouldn't wake to see the next day. However every morning I would awaken to greet the day with a shrug, and a sigh, and wonderment at how "God" would care to keep me in a world where I wasn't wanted and in which I didn't want to be..

I continued this way for many years....

Then there was one miraculous day in my life that changed a lot for me. It changed the way I look at life. It changed the way I look at the world. It changed the things I prayed about at night before I go to sleep. And it re-instilled my faith in things good near and afar.

The day I speak of. The day of my awakening I'm referring to is January 10, 2010. The day in history that saved my life in every sense of the word. The day I started talking to you. The day I got the sack to text you and see what might be. This is the day I decided I was going to marry you. Also the day I felt true love for the first time.

As we texted that day, I had this funny feeling in my stomach. It was kind of a warm fuzzy feeling that had me thinking, "This can't be real", "This has got to be too good to be true"... Then as we texted through the night, I was thinking that I should be getting tired, but the conversation we were having was so stimulating that my mind was wide awake. No way in a million years could I ever go to sleep.. I just wanted to bask in the glory of the conversation. "This woman is amazing", I was thinking to myself. "This is the one"..

The way things played out, we met the next day and we've pretty much been in-separable since. You came and picked me up, and it was as I thought it would be. Love at first sight. To be technical, it was love at first speaks, but when I saw you it was absolutely, 100% set in stone. I was in love. Twitterpation to the max. Absolutely, head over heels, heart pounding against my chest in love with you. I knew that you were the one that I would share my last breath with. The one I would spend the rest of my life with. I knew you were the one to bare my children. I knew.

That was almost a month and a half ago. The feelings I had for you then seem so miniscule compared to the mountain of love and feelings that I have developed for you since then. What can I say? I love you more today than I did yesterday, and only half as much as I will tomorrow. Every day my feelings get stronger for you. Even through the ups and downs, I love you more and more each day. And when I think it can't get any stronger, it does. And it will continue that way.

The way I see it, you have done more for me than most other people couldn't have done for me where I allotted a million years on this planet.

You have re-instilled my faith in women. You have re-instilled my faith in love. You showed me that love at first sight is real. You made me a firm believer in soul mates. Our children make me appreciate the more innocent things in life. You and yours have helped me to realize what is important to me. The laughs. The cries. The ups. The downs. You have re-instilled my faith in faith, and for that I'm eternally in debt to you.

I love you so much baby girl, and look forward to many, many, years to come. The years where we can sit back and look at our beautiful family and all we've done and know. Not think but know that we are a one of a kind. Where we know that we are what fairy tales are made of. Know that all the downs and spats we incurred throughout our life together seem so small compared to the seas of love that we've shared throughout our lifetime. I love you baby girl. In life. In death. I love you in every way a man can love a woman and so much more.

Here's to us, and a love everlasting. Here's to love. here's to you.

I love you Katie Nicole Brierly........

Love, always and forever,

Jason

### Shit..

### June 28, 2011 at 3:58pm

Pain and anguish bring me happiness for I am a joyous unhappy soul.. For when I finally find true happiness, you will find me a truly dead man in an ungodly deep hole..

### My Translation...

### June 28, 2011 at 3:59pm

My translation of the thoughtless requires the translated sense of sensibility with the thought process.. Proceed with common sense and process the impossible. The possibility is that the logical will make sense of the rant of the illogical. Learn to process the improbable and the impossible becomes possible.. Listen and hear.. Look and see.. The rant of the foolish becomes the literature of tomorrow..

### Katie Nicole Brierly

### June 28, 2011 at 4:01pm

Your body is absolutely perfect in every way possible baby girl. You mothered the 3 most amazing children in the world, and maintained the perfection that I wake next to every morning love every mark, every line, and every bit of skin on your body. You're more amazing than words could ever say. And the icing on the cake is that you're the most wonderful mother I've set my eyes on, hands down. Never have I seen such happy kids, like I do in ours.. You are beautiful for what you've done and in my eyes you remain perfect.. You are strong(and wise beyond your years), you are brave(for the rough patches you've endured), and when I say this, I want you to truly feel it.. BE PROUD OF YOURSELF!!! Open those beautiful brown eyes and realize that you're the most beautiful WOMAN I've ever set my eyes upon..

### Baby Girl...

### September 19, 2011 at 11:29pm

To look into your wondrous brown eyes, deep, sensual, caring and strong; it brings me to my knees, from the strength of your love towards me. Just to know that I am yours, and that forever is how long we have together..

Yet never, does it seem like long enough. Gaby Girl, the love that we hold so dear, is such that most people can only fathom in dreams. It is a love that the majority of people only know, or experience through storybook movies like. "The Notebook"..

You and the kids are hands down the best thing to ever happen to me. You saved my life, and gave me purpose. You showed me what it's like to be loved, unconditionally, and that feeling is rivaled to none, something that i would fight tooth and nail for. Something i would kill, to protect. Something I would die for.

Bottom line, Baby Girl, I want to thank you for opening my eyes to the beauty of love, and the beauty of all the world. Every breath I take is for you.

I love you Baby Girl..

Love,

Jason Briely

### .Sorrow for the ignorance..

### December 25, 2011 at 6:39am

Again, up and flowing, the caffeine that courses these pipes of veins, my crimson veino, flowing forth through my veins and coronaries,

To get hype and open that long sought after flow of creativity that

Works the pen out, fat and lazy from a long slumber;

Excited to make dark, that which was once blank,

The paper soon read and criticized, the poetry soon appears.

The ink's glimmer, fresh in written form puts forth the ramblings

Spewed from my busy mind for other's entertainment;

The words loved by the few who understand my thoughts.

Make that impact.

The impression placed upon one's mind by my written thoughts are deep.

Cut deep.

I put to words what others can't, so is it open?

My mind?

Blasted wide the fuck open by the mass use of psychs.

The doors of perception open the doors once closed by the ignorance of others.

I saw the light through the cracks under the door,

And wanted to sun bathe in the sun on the other side.

Now, with the dark sun tan of the mind, I am thankful.

And, at the same time sorrowful, for those poor prisoners,

Locked up with bars of ignorance, behind the tightly locked doors,

Of lack of perception.

I pity the fools, and foolish.

Lost inside their own world.

Inside the box.

### Patience is a virtue grasshopper.

### January 17, 2013 at 4:20am

From the depths of my soul. With all that makes me, I need you. Your breath on my breath. Our eyes locked in the, lost to all else but one another, gaze. The one where we bare our soul at a glance known only by lovers. With all that makes me, I need you. Hand in hand, fingers locked, breathe as one. Hearts beat in unison. Mine for you. And yours for me. That's what I need. The you. Plus the me. Equals the pairing of one to the other. That's what I crave. My soul thirsty for you. Ever unquenched. Unable to attain that which I hold so dear. The glacier cold, forever flowing waters of your touch. I miss the feeling of a freshly quenched soul. As I teach myself the truest meaning of patience, ever thirsty shall I be. As this lesson in the great book of " Me " unfolds, I remind myself. Forever is what you and I have, and as such, this trial is but a blink of an eye. Good comes to those who wait? I certainly and sincerely hope so. For this test is one that may drive this nut to crack. Thank you love, for introducing me to true love. And thank you for teaching me the true meaning of patience.

I love you my queen

Forever yours

### Long overdue lovins.

### February 25, 2013 at 11:39am

I sit here and ponder. Often, from what seems afar, lost deep in thought.

Buried by burden, and stress, and as it becomes overwhelming, the weight unbearable I scream for release!

I lash out and pray for a break that never comes. Then, through the thicket of ire induced fog, shines that beacon.

The fiery intense red glow of passion, lit years ago. And in the crimson glow, shines the face of an Angel.

A woman of unrivaled perfection that I so strives to touch. Yet through the thickness of pain, she, innocence incarnate, personified by my queen is yet out of reach.

As I reach, a tear leaves a loan salty trail down her satin, soft cheek, and I realize.

Through the fog, I make out the arch of an arm, as she reaches out, trying to receive her king. Tortured protector incarnate, personified by myself.

Ever out of reach, I need my medicine. My dose of happiness found in my queen, my lover, my wonder wall, and my soul mate.

Though thought useless, I fight the torture of my -just out of reach- queen, and then i just let go.

And calm. And peace. Tranquility of the maximum sort, as I feel the absolute, most comforting feeling of. Bliss. And calm. And peace.

My arms, gently locked around my queen, and her's, around her king. And. Nothing else exists. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters.

Nothing but two lovers and a long sought after embrace. Two souls as one.

Two hearts, beating in unison as the power of love heals. Overtakes. Calms. Soothes away the dense fog of pain, and the gentle caress of love wipes dry the tears with love. Love in it's purest of forms, known only by lovers of the eternal brand.

Through the worse pain, and stresses, and hurt, and anger, that beacon of eternal love shines brilliant. Guides two lovers back to that one thing.

The thing that heals all, and soothes away all things pain; Love unconditional. Love eternal.

You baby girl, are truly my angel. My guardian angel, who is guiding her man, into the light.

For not seeing it before, my love, I am truly, and forever apologetic.

For showing me what was, all along before me, I shall remain forever grateful.

And for your unconditional love, I am forever indebted to you, and will spend the rest of eternity showing you the like.

### Anecdotes of a Madman

### March 6, 2013 at 6:19pm

I think, therefore I am; broken. All the way. Not like, "I'm all teeny bopper n shit!!" "If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite", well Aldoux, via Mr. Blake, what you forgot to mention, is that once those doors are cleansed, you can't muddy them again. Through the use of large quantities of lsd, my doors have been cleansed. Too cleansed. Aldoux failed to mention that with open mind, comes, "question all that you once thought you knew"...Enlightenment comes with a price. Lost in my mind, "a mad man's nonsensical" is inspired, and a busy mind is put to use. Writing broken thoughts from a broken mind; the mind, a victim of a brutal psychedelic gang rape.. Question not, my lyrical styling's, for they aren't poetry. They're just thoughts.

### Broken

### March 13, 2013 at 1:59am

Good morrow great wall, that once locked me in.

Good morrow deep darkness, my lifelong friend.

Sitting atop this tool, inability to cope.

About to fall over, you should realize the scope.

I'm trying to tell you, that I am in pain.

I need to talk about it, but in your anger, there's nothing to gain.

I feel myself slipping, falling from atop,

The great massive structure, you've the tools to stop.

I feel my self-falling, reaching for a hand.

To pull me back out, I hope you understand.

I want us to be us, not the shells of emptiness.

Time and again, you said I was missed.

By my wife and my soul mate, the woman that's my queen..

My soul's become calloused, by all that is mean.

Within your hands, you hold the tool.

To fix me or break me, what will we do??

### Internal battle..

### March 21, 2013 at 6:54pm

Mind is a jumble, deep seeded thorough thoughtlessness. The scars left upon my emotions or lack thereof.

Internal battles fought with precedence, good and evil, both are equal these thoughts, where I come from.

Pros and cons, of consequences rendered upon the literary mind, the internal battle is what I find.

The thing most sought after, through the many years of hurt. The embrace of a lover. Embrace lost in time.

Evidence of fidelity and yearning of learning and time after time and line after line of an itching and burning... from a soul constantly returning, to a body maturing.

The poetic flow that courses my veins,

that nobody knows and I try to explain,

in my poems and writings my prose slams exciting,

on the unknowing mind,

who, as I speak gets lost in time. And the grime of the winding,

and perfection of timing, as my words carve your brain,

from my words you lay slain.

Shifty and gifted, my mind deeply twisted,

And infected perception, perfected inception, the depth of my flow...nobody knows, a rhyme within a rhyme, within a rhyme is how deep I will go.

My hands render, as my mind composes.

As my body reacts to my souls emotions

And my internal and external, meet with commotion... the man child exposed, punched dead square in the nose.

And as the tears drop and my fears stop, within and without he thinks nobody knows,

No one sees his pain, though it thoroughly shows.

Like worn on his sleeve, in public he bleeds,

As he pours his heart out, on paper so stout, to bear his heavy thoughts and heavy mind, as he gets lost in time. And runs out of lines.

Wasted youth...

of...

mine...

and slow....

to...

a...

stop...

He...

Grinds...

### Ls20

### April 20, 2013 at 7:51pm

I am NOT a rapper

who flows about cash, I flow about

pride and loyalty... avoiding the mad dash.

Lucy, and grass...

of the cannabis brand,

I flow about respect, to thine own self be true, in time begetting time,

And being thoroughly confused..

I am a poet who writes Floetry,

of the

"make you think"

sort,

I'm a psychedelic master of the serotonin flow.

15 on the tongue the mind is about to go.

The walls are melting,

Im moving in slow mo.

As the trip begins, my body starts to fly, cleansing my wicked soul as my mind's eye is pryed open wide.

Me and my queen the pride of my life, 420 bonnie is my psychedelic Clyde.

Dosing people's minds putting their thoughts in binds.

Without the psychedelics, one can say he's blind.

...Perfection so Pure...

April 30, 2013 at 10:14pm

Open your eyes and see as I see.

I gaze from afar,

From across the room and know that this woman...

This angel...

This saint was made for me.

Stunning grace and beauty,

In it's purest, non-flawed form.

From each strand of hair, to the points of your cute lil toes,

From inside your heart and soul,

My love so pure is born.

If only I could get through to you,

And make you understand...

Your perfection in all form,

Makes me feel all man.

No other woman in the world,

Should have as much self worth.

I will try explaining why starting with this first.

If only you could see yourself,

Through these eyes within my head,

Just for 5 seconds, you would have no doubt.

Not a single shred.

These glawsies that I gaze through

See beautiful flowing hair,

Soft, as if brand new.

Long and brown and sleek, I love it in my face.

The perfect smell of you...

Essence de' Angel...

As if for the first time,

Intoxicating scent anew.

Next thing that I see, your fare face deep and thoughtful,

as carved of marble, flawless in view.

So pleasant, warm and lady like,

your absolute flawless and womanly stare,

and when upset, the, "I dare you" glare.

As if carved of gold, magnificent to say the least,

Stirs a deep carnal desire inside,

It brings out my inner beast.

Next a small part, usually overlooked.

The nape of your neck, the gentle curve that gets me shook.

The starting line marked to trace,

The womanly curves that makes my heart just race.

100 percent woman,

My hands want to trace...

My mouth wants to taste...

Curvy, supple, thick in all the right spots.

Perfect and gorgeous, inside and out,

Your "whole" is what I adore...

Your heart and soul, the essence of you...

My queen.. my soul mate eternal...

Forever tethered our souls are,

In unison the beat of our hearts.

Your, "deeply conscious of other's" heart and soul,

Form and shape you as, 100 percent woman.

They sculpt you into the perfection that I gaze upon.

The flawless form I wake next to, every morning.

Your heart of gold, massive and pure,

Have opened my eyes and shaped my thought,

Into something I no longer try to hide

For fear of being ousted as crazy,

To be locked away.

You show me a love,

Oh, what love..

A love I knew existed,

Though never known myself.

A love I never knew, had not a clue,

I was seeking, all along...

A love I always craved.

You introduced to me, through your purest heart,

A feeling I've only come marginally close to,

Through Shakespeare and the like.

This feeling..

A feeling that, I -had it not been for you-

Would've never in my span of life, experienced.

True, unadulterated, unquestioned happiness.

The feeling, rivaled by none.

You show me daily, a feeling so pure,

through your love un-wavering,

And loyalty, never questioned,

that many are the times throughout the day,

that I pinch my leg. Insurance of being awake,

And not dreaming.

Your soul of purity,

Made of sugar and spice, and everything nice.

Made up of love, and compassion,

And a deep understanding,

Ever open and yearning,

And a dash of zest.

Your beautiful soul tethered tight to mine,

Along with your gentle boot to the ass,

Led my once closed tight eyes to open,

And realize,

That to fulfill my destiny,

In spending forever with you,

I needed to make room,

Within my heart for God.

For, without the mould maker,

There would be no mould.

Without him, there's no you.

No I.

Between your strength of heart, and purity of soul,

There's an aura about you, that I find,

Absolutely striking.

An aura that renders what I look upon every day,

Absolutely flawless.

Unrivalled with inner and outer beauty.

Never in my life,

Have I seen anyone capture,

The perfection of mind, body and soul,

As you have.

Never again, My Queen,

Should you ever deny,

Or play coy and bashful when I point out the obvious.

You're perfect, inside and out.

Please My Love,

With all that makes me...

Never again question what I see,

As I look upon you longingly, with genuine desire,

And see inside and out.

You..

Perfection...

Please accept as truth what I speak of,

When I verbalize what I see,

As our -longing for one another- eyes meet.

Perfection personified..,

Through the windows to your soul, absolute perfection.

A purity of heart, possessed by so few.

A godly love.

What do I see in you?

Nothing less than God made you.

Perfection incarnate.

My Angel true.

A purest of life force in saintly creation.

My Baby Girl, my loving Queen.

None are as perfect

as you.

### To feel for the first time true

### August 30, 2013 at 12:26pm

Internally wrought with ferocity I fought,

The demon I brought and insanity I caught.

Questions of insanity, sorely confirmed

Grey hairs are thick, each one I've earned.

When presented with truth, these thoughts make sense.

Clearing the fog, that used to be dense.

I wasn't a bad kid like I pondered so often.

In realization, my calloused heart begins to soften.

Now pondering, my fucked decisions,

One sticks out hard, with fierce recognition.

The day that I left her, my saint of a wife,

The one who opened my eyes to love.

Who taught me to cope.

The soul who saved my life.

Now I am plagued, with what I know as guilt.

For denying her the love, and relationship we built.

I wanted her so bad, yet didn't deserve.

I trampled her heart,

Yet our true feelings, with need she preserved.

My saint of a wife, defines perseverance.

Defines patience.

Defines unconditional love.

Regardless of interference.

The feelings I feel,

Feel like brand new.

The new ones felt as I bid old ones adieu..

The truest emotion, ever perceived,

From this pure soul, that I receive,

Are purer than pure, realer than real,

For once in my life, I finally feel.

The love of another penetrates my heart of steel.

The feelings I feel, inside my heart.

She painted with careful hand, her beautiful art.

Her Mona l Lisa, that hangs in my heart,

Is ALL that is purest.

Our beautiful restart

Jason B - Intricate B, author of "Wasted Youth Remembers" His talent is through the mastery of his ever-present pen, and inability to physically speak of his motions, removes the buffer between his deepest thoughts, and the paper that his ink pours upon. The ever present pain and hurt that you cannot express, is his craft...The self-proclaimed voice for the silent majority of the leftover Eminence of a medicated youth. The wasted youth remember...Intricate (in his madman's rant) ensures that the silent will be heard. ©2014

## Resus

# By

## Neil McGowan

Staff Nurse Bonnie Long didn't like the resuscitation dummies. They gave her the creeps every time she had to go near them, and she tried to avoid giving demonstrations of CPR with them if it was at all possible. She didn't know what it was about them, they just didn't seem quite...right.

It was a strange phobia to have, she thought, in a place where there was much more unpleasant things to see. Only that afternoon she'd been in the emergency department when a young man had been rushed in after an accident with a chainsaw. The lower portion of the unfortunate chap's leg was hanging off, connected by a few strands of tissue and muscle. Ragged flecks of bone had been visible amidst the gore.

Bonnie shook her head. At fifty-eight, she had seen her fair share of horrific injuries during the past thirty years; mostly, she managed to keep her emotions in check. Every now and then, though, like today, she couldn't help herself. He was barely twenty, she thought, and he's got the rest of his life ahead of him with only one leg. All because of some stupid accident.

She realized that she'd been staring into the mirror and scrubbing her hands on autopilot, her mind elsewhere. Using her elbows to flick the taps off, she pulled a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and dried her hands, before leaving the washroom and heading into the staff changing area.

Opening her locker, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. It had been a long shift. She checked her watch. Almost midnight. God, it would be good to get home, she thought. Tony could massage her shoulders whilst she had a small brandy; she was on early tomorrow, so any more than one small one was out of the question. Pulling her coat on but leaving it unfastened – it was warm in St John's – she made her way to the shift roster to double-check tomorrow's posting. She'd been caught out before, when the duty manager had made changes at the last minute; now, she checked the board at the end of every shift. Just in case.

Her heart sank when she saw the pencilled amendments to the sheet. She peered closer, having to squint but too tired to take her glasses out of her bag. Her spirits plummeted further when she saw that she had been re-assigned tomorrow.

Admitting defeat and cursing her eyesight, she fumbled her glasses out and slipped them on.

Immediately, she wished she hadn't bothered. She was covering a resuscitation class for young mothers. Her hands trembled as she considered calling in sick tomorrow.

But in the end, she knew she wouldn't. She would do as she always did: get the class over with as quickly as she could, and treat herself to a stiff double when she got home. Tony would understand; he knew how she felt about the dummies. Shivering despite the heat, she left the hospital. She had a large brandy that night.

# ***

Something moved. A faint whoosh of breath; in and out, with mechanical regularity.

The room was dim; a few low-power LEDs provided just enough illumination for the night staff to be able to walk about without stumbling.

A cold, evil sentience stirred. Malevolent intelligence explored the surroundings. Utterly evil and devoid of humanity, it began to plan. It would soon be time to move on.

# ***

Bonnie was almost late. An accident on the bypass had caused traffic to come to a standstill. She thumped her hands against the steering wheel in frustration every time someone hopped lanes just to get a car's length further ahead.

She poked the bud of her hands-free kit into her ear and managed to dial the hospital's number during one of the frequent halts.

"Joan? It's Bonnie. Listen, I'm caught up in traffic. I don't know if I'll make it on time. Can anyone else take the resus class for me?"

Nursing Administrator Joan MacKay sighed down the phone. "Sorry, Bonnie, no can do. We're short staffed as it is. I'll give the unit a ring and tell them you're on your way."

"Ah, well." Bonnie hadn't expected any different, but it had been worth a try.

"Okay, I've emailed them for you, and asked them to set the room up for you."

"Right, thanks. I'll be there as soon as I can." Bonnie peered at the traffic. "Okay, got to go. Looks like we're moving at last."

"'Kay, see ya soon." Joan rang off.

# ***

Morag Fletcher thought that the staff nurse who had turned up late to take the class looked ill. She was pale and shaky. One of the other mothers had whispered behind her hand to Morag that it was a poor state of affairs when even the nurses looked as though they'd been drinking.

After apologizing for being late and introducing herself, the nurse had begun to go through the theory of paediatric resuscitation with them. Morag found it difficult to follow her; she seemed to lose focus and fumble her words every other minute. On a few occasions, her voice had trailed away to nothing and she'd spent the next few seconds staring into thin air until a gentle cough from one of the young mums had roused her from her reverie.

"Excuse me, nurse, but are you feeling alright?" Morag spoke the words before she thought too much about them.

The nurse looked blank for a moment and then smiled wanly. "Yes, er-" she peered at the name sticker on Morag's chest, "-Morag." She took a deep breath, and then looked around the room. "Sorry everyone, It was a late shift for me last night."

Morag wasn't reassured. The nurse seemed too enthusiastic, now; her smile was bright, brittle almost. She glanced at the clock. With a sinking feeling, she braced herself for the next hour.

# ***

It was the expressions, Bonnie decided. All of the dummies had the same blank expression. Except, it wasn't quite blank. The designers, she presumed in the interests of accuracy, seemed to have developed a facial expression that watched you, no matter where you were in the room. It reminded her of the old films where the eyes of a portrait followed the female lead around the room; you knew something bad was going to happen, you just didn't know when.

The rubberized plastic skin had a faint sheen to it, like a haze of perspiration. The eyes were blank but knowing, with a depth that drew you in. Male by design and hairless, the dummies were lined up on trestle tables, two rows of limbless torsos waiting for someone to come along and breathe life into them.

Bonnie shivered. She felt clammy and unwell. Maybe she was coming down with something. It wouldn't be the first time she'd picked up a bug at work; it was one of the hazards of nursing. She decided that she would finish the class as quickly as possible and then go home.

A quick glance at her notes to refresh her memory brought a stab of pain. Her eyesight blurred for a few seconds. She took a shaky breath, steadying herself with a hand on the table.

"Definitely not well", she thought. "Oh well, best get on with it."

There was only the practical part of the session remaining. She picked up the bag of sterile wipes and walked between the two rows of tables, handing out wipes as she went.

"Remember," she said. "The key is to make a good seal. Pinch the nose and Give a good breath. You want to see the chest rise. It's not as easy as you think – these dummies are designed to mimic a person's response. You're trying to force a lot of air through a small tube, and you need to make sure you can deliver enough pressure."

Bonnie shivered again, pain pulsing in her temples. She liked this part least of all. "Now, if you'd all like to watch for a moment, I'll give you a demonstration. Then you can all have a go."

She repressed a shudder as she approached the dummy. "You're being irrational," she told herself. "It's just a plastic dummy, for Christ's sake."

Yet it felt like much more. She hated the practical demonstration more than anything else. In her thirty years of nursing, she'd been covered in blood, vomit, urine, excrement, and just about any other bodily fluid you would care to name. None of that fazed her in the slightest. When Tony had asked her about it in the early years of their marriage, she'd grinned and said, "Shit washes off."

But she could never shake the feeling that, somehow, the dummy was taking her breath, her life force, from her each time she demonstrated resuscitation techniques. It was at times like this that she looked forward to retiring, although she couldn't imagine what she would do with herself. Tony had his golfing to keep him entertained; she'd never been much of a fan herself. Maybe it was time to learn, she thought, steeling herself as she prepared to show the room what CPR looked like.

"Don't forget," she said, knowing she'd already told them and realizing that she was trying to put off touching the dummy, "you need to press down hard on that chest. You've got to imagine that you are the sole force that is pumping blood around the body and really work at it." Knowing she could put it off so longer, she swallowed and licked her lips. "Okay, this is how it's done." Pain speared into her temples as her mouth closed over the dummies. She forced out a weak exhalation, knowing that it wasn't strong enough.

The dummy's chest inflated. Bonnie tried to rise but pain shot through her, a brilliant streak of lightning; it was all she could do to avoid collapsing.

Her breath was drawn out of her. Something was wrong. Her eyes widened as a sweet, acrid taste filled her mouth and she felt her lungs fill up with alien breath.

There was a tremendous pounding in her ears, rhythmic at first then becoming staccato and irregular. Flashes of light blossomed like roses before her eyes. She tried to cry out, to let someone know that something was going wrong.

Her voice failed her, the faint words she uttered lost in the cavernous depths of the dummy's torso. Fresh pain gripped her, a white-hot band of agony cinched tight around her chest. She could feel it in her arm as well, galloping through her veins like acid. Her eyes grew wide with panic as she realized that she was having a heart attack. The drumming in her ears boomed. Her vision began to fade, the color leaching away first before darkness began to encroach.

She was dimly aware that one of the mothers was coming towards her. The young woman's mouth was moving but Bonnie was unable to hear her; the words seemed to pass through treacle before they reached her ears, slowing down and distorting.

She felt the dummy's chest rise again and then give a jolt. There was a mild tingling sensation before she felt a massive kick in her sternum. Her contact with the dummy was broken, the link severed; Bonnie jerked away from the table, flailing backwards.

Her legs unhinged, spilling her unceremoniously to the floor. Every breath hurt, the pain in her chest constricting her lungs.

"Help me," she whispered, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek. The mother – Morag – looked terrified, leaning over her. Her lips moved, forming words.

"I think she's having a heart attack!" There was panic in Morag's voice. "Someone get some help in here."

The room began to swim in and out of focus. Morag said something else, but Bonnie couldn't hear it. She was aware of activity in the room as medical staff rushed in. She felt a cool pair of hands examining her, the faint tugging as her uniform was unfastened to allow a gummy pair of electrodes to be stuck to her chest. She was aware on one level of voices talking to her, trying to calm her, even as she felt herself lifted onto a hospital gurney. Muted beeps issued from various machines.

The pain clenched tighter. Cool, blessed darkness rushed in, swamping her senses and wrapping her in mental cotton wool. For a time, Bonnie faded out.

# ***

It was trapped in darkness. Lacking corporeal presence, it nevertheless managed a mental smile. The long wait was over. It would soon be time to stalk the world of men once more. Inhuman senses probed the surrounding environs. It was night outside; the room was quiet.

A single, soft exhalation was the only sign of activity in the room. Eager to be about its alien business, it began to flex its mental muscles. Weak from the long sleep, it knew it would take time to develop the strength to control its host. It was patient. Its time was come.

# ***

Swimming through the inky blackness, Bonnie thought she was drowning. Darkness filled her vision and dulled her senses.

She was aware, in a vague manner, of things happening to her body. She felt pressure applied to her chest in a rhythmic manner on at least three occasions. "Chest compressions," she thought, recognizing the cadence. "Looks like my heart doesn't want to play anymore."

She felt no sadness at the thought she might be dying; only a relief that the pain had ended. Time passed. How much, she didn't know. It could have been a minute or a week or even a year. She began to wonder about those she had left behind. Would Tony mourn her passing? What would her friends say? Would there be much of a gathering at the funeral? And what about the Grandson (or Granddaughter) she'd never met?

It was a powerful thought. Too powerful for her to ignore. She began to focus her will, concentrating on finding that one speck of light in the darkness that would guide her back to life. More time passed and she began to grow afraid. For how much longer would they keep her body alive?

No longer seeking death, she searched with renewed vigor. Her concept of time as a fluid, moving stream began to solidify and take on a familiar dimension. Her mind began to retrace its steps, taking her on a path back to life that was defined by memories.

Her speed increased until she was rushing along at the speed of thought. Pure mind, her thoughts had acquired weight and purpose, guiding her back to the light.

There! She sensed a pinprick of light up ahead and redoubled her efforts, watching with satisfaction as it grew larger.

Her other senses began to feed her input again. Sound began to reach her, muffled at first, just like listening to the radio whilst in the shower. She began to differentiate the various smells around her, from the sharp, astringency of surgical alcohol to the warm, meaty smell of rubber.

She was so close now that she could almost feel it. She closed her eyes and prepared to burst through, back into her body and back into life.

# ***

Bonnie's eyes flicked open. The monitor to her left gave a constant reassuring beep. Her head rolled in that direction: the line traced a steady series of peaks and troughs. She smiled. Her heart was behaving itself, it seemed.

"Well, well. Look who's back with us." The voice was familiar and full of warmth. Rolling her head to the opposite side, she gazed up at the nurse stood at her bedside.

"Hi, Laura." Bonnie's voice was weak.

"You want some water?" Laura indicated a beaker that was just visible on the edge of Bonnie's vision. Bonnie nodded.

Laura helped her with the straw. After a couple of sips, Bonnie pulled away. "Better," she said her voice stronger now. "What happened?"

Laura frowned and shook her head. "You gave us all a bloody good scare," she said, reaching for Bonnie's wrist and checking her pulse in a practiced manner. "You keeled over in front of a bunch of young mums. Thank God one of them had the sense to scream for help and start CPR on you until we got there."

"It was a bad one then?"

Laura nodded. "Three times, we thought we'd lost you; each time – God knows how – we managed to get your heart going again."

"How long?"

"Two days," said Laura. "You're still in ICU, by the way."

Bonnie nodded. "Figures," she muttered. "So how long until I can get out of here?"

Laura sighed. "That depends," she said. "We're still trying to find out what caused the heart attack. There's no sign of any blockages or damage. Damndest thing I ever saw. Your heart looks healthier than mine!"

Bonnie managed a soft chuckle. "Must have been stress," she said. "I was feeling under pressure that day."

Laura shook her head, doubt etched on her face. "Hmm, it's possible. But I have to say, your blood pressure has been normal right the way through. We even called John McKnight in from Edinburgh to have a look at you. He said that your heart was in great shape. There's no sign of any scarring or tissue damage, so you should be back on your feet as soon as you feel like it." There was a pause. Laura scrutinized her friend's face. "But we'll be watching you like hawks," she said.

Bonnie smiled. "I'm sure I'll be fine," she said. "I was just tired. I feel like a new woman now."

# ***

She lay there, immobile. She was unable to move her head. She was also unable to move her arms or legs and her chest felt deflated, somehow.

She felt...wrong. Her head felt odd, too big and the wrong shape. The silky touch of her fringe on her forehead was also absent.

She felt hands against her body, pressing against her; muffled sounds reached her ears. She wanted to scream, but she was unable to move her lips.

She could see, though. And as she watched, a terrible suspicion began to grow in her. She looked up, unblinking, as the ceiling began to move. She was manhandled roughly into a new position.

Her sanity began to crumble as she heard the soft hiss of a zipper. Helpless, she lay there unable to blink as the rough canvas bag was zipped shut over her face.

She was unable to cry because she no longer possessed any tear ducts, unable to scream because she had no vocal chords.

Trapped inside the stiff plastic of the resuscitation dummy, Staff Nurse Bonnie Long's screams echoed only within her mind.

Neil is the author of 'The Surgeon', a gritty horror novel described as 'fast-paced', 'nicely inventive' and 'gripping' as well as 'Don't Drink the Water', a collection of tales of terror and 'Nanobite'. He was brought up in Yorkshire, and spent many years working as an aircraft technician throughout the world. He is a prolific author of short fantasy and horror fiction, as well as writing fantasy for children.

He now lives in Scotland with his wife and two children, and is hard at work on his next novel. ©2014

## After the fall

# By

## Aaron R Roberts

Dazed and confused, I found myself alone. In a place that have never been before. I had a knot on my head the size of a baseball. I had dried blood on my jeans and shirt. I looked at myself and thought "What have you gotten yourself into". I looked myself over for cuts and saw none. I was positive that this red colored stain was not my blood. What had I done? How did I get into this abandoned looking building? I wasn't robbed. I had my watch, phone jewellery, and shoes.

Loud voices were in the distance. I couldn't make out what was being said. It was muffled and clouded but it was closer than I would have liked. Especially since I just woke up, I was not prepared to play 20 questions.

I tried to stand up but with no luck I fell back to the floor. Was I drugged? How could I let this happen? I sat there wondering about the events that led up to me waking up in this abandoned, deserted building. Nothing was coming to mind. I didn't have amnesia. I knew who I was, where I lived, and where I worked. The building I was in did not look familiar

I may not know where I am or how I got there but was glad I was alive. I was in some pain but nothing I had not felt before. . I started to overlook my body. I noticed what appeared to be burns on my wrist and ankles. Not from a rope or an open flame. They were more along the lines of a chemical burn. The red color was on my shoes but not on my socks. It was on the front of my pants but not on the back. What was it and how did I get it on me but more importantly how did I make my way into this building. Had I been in an accident? Was I drunk and crawled away to avoid going to jail.

The smell of magnesium burns my nose hair. I try to stand again but fall helplessly to the dust caked floor. I felt drunk. Spacey and light headed. The voices that I heard earlier were getting louder and closer. I knew I had to hide but just didn't know how. If I moved id leave a trail and get caught.

The voices stopped. They seemed to fade as if they were going away from me. Then there was an absolute silence. Sirens and the smell of something burning soon replaced that void of silence. What had happened in the days past that have made me not remember? I could not place my finger on it. I remember leaving the house but that was the extent of it. Whose blood was on my hands and cloths? Just had to stop thinking and get out of where I am. I tried to stand once again but with no luck I fell. I decided to crawl over to a large crate the loomed in the center of the room

Larger than life itself it had to be an answer to what had happen. It may not be the answer I want but maybe it will give me a small clue to where I am. I used the edges of the crate to prop myself up. I could see out a frosted window enough to know it was still daylight but not enough to tell where I was at. Broken in half, the lid was not very hard to lift. It moved away to see what lay inside. Nothing I could see just vague outlines of shapes. Not enough of light to see anything so I will wait to morning and hope for the best.

Morning broke with the smell of fresh rain. Still weary of my surroundings I tried not to make any noise. Very little noise; if at any if all possible.

My stomach growled and my throat was dry. I don't remember the last time I had a drink or ate something. Whatever took place must have affected my short term memory. I stood for the first time in as much I don't remember when. Under the top the crate was a bunch of shipping peanuts. I didn't know if I should just plunge my hand in or try to scoop them out to see if anything is actually in there.

I can't move the crate and it's not for the lack of tiring. It's a heavy wooden structure. Four foot square with lots of screws to hold it together. Maybe if I look around I can find a pry bar or a Phillips screwdriver. No such luck with my surroundings, but maybe if I can find them elsewhere. I take my shoes off and walk over to the window. I look out into a trashed alley. There is nothing new to see. It was just another trashed alley in this god forsaken town. There are homeless and the free cyclers all over this town maybe I can be like them and rummage through everything; to find useful stuff I can use or for trade later on but right now I have no intention of leaving this building. God knows all I need is to get down the stairs and pass out only to wake up with some wild animal eating my face.

I go back to the crate and give it another once over. The top of the crate was screwed on with half a dozen slotted screws. Large slotted screws that I think are large enough that if I could find a coin or a butter knife I could undo them that way. If I can't I will just might bash the top open with a chair.

Stumbling though the dark I get frustrated and grab a chair and do my best to break the top with the frustration that had been building up since I came back to consciousness.

Three hits break the top of the chair off of the rail that heal it in place. With a thud to the floor the back of the seat was the next to fall off. I set the chair down and looked at the crate. No worse for wear it stood there mocking me. Laughing at me the way only an inanimate object could. Still together like it just came out of the factory.

I sit down on the floor and look at the remains of the office chair I had just destroyed. The frame of the back of the chair came off with only a little force. It will make a good pry bar. I walk around the crate with the improvised pry bar in my hand, going a little bit of the top at a time. Walking around the crate four or five times to make sure the top was loose enough to pry off by hand. I used the back of the chair to act as a scoop to move away the peanuts. I did not want to risk hurting myself by plunging my hand in to feel my way around.

It was not long before the corner of a box surfaced. A plane brown box with just a bar code on it that leads to more questions than answers. As I pull the box out of the crate I noticed that the box says one of four, this really stirs my curiosity. As I dig around in the plastic peanuts to find what was in crate, there was a thought in the back of my mind; maybe I shouldn't know what was in the crate. I should just leave. I dig around to find not one but six more medium boxes. Under the six little boxes there are two medium sized ones that created a base for the rest of the boxes to sit on. They all were marked with different markings and destinations. I take a break of playing Santa and go scope out an adjacent janitor closet. I find a chair to prop open the door so I don't get locked in the closet. That would be the end of everything.

To my delight there is a pair of coveralls and a pair of work boots on a shelf. Question is will they fit. The shelves are lined with all kinds of chemicals. None of the chemicals were that of what I am too familiar with, but I spy a box of crackers and a jar of chunky peanut butter. FOOOD what a relief! I have some kind of hunger going on. I know that if I eat the crackers and the peanut butter it will fill the void of hunger but will make me even thirstier.

I see a faucet but I do not trust the water that lay behind the valve. I do not know where this virus if it's a virus came from. Until I find out more about the situation I have to be extra cautious with whatever I do. One scratch, one nick could spell defeat before I even try to survive.

Shelves line the eight by eight room. It was filled with cleaning products. Some I am familiar with and others I am not. I start reading the ingredients to sift out the poison ones from the nontoxic. I will need fuel when I plan to leave the security of this building. So any chemical that is rated flammable I am setting aside. So far I have found one. It's some kind of furniture polish in a jelly paste. I set aside the two medium bottles of hydrogen peroxide I am sure I will need them.

There is a three pound box of iodine paste used for chemical clean up. I knew from biology class that iodine can be used to filter water to killed viruses. The only thing is I don't know if this is the type that does that or the type that kills you. In large quantities it acts just like cyanide. I sure the hell don't want that.

Next to the iodine was an open box of brillo pads. I can use them to ignite fires if I can find a couple of nine volt batteries. All kind of things, that by themselves are useless. But with a combination of certain things I could make defensive chemical weapons. Mustard gas is an easy one: one part Drano and one part bleach. Burns the eyes and nostrils and burns the skin anywhere it touches. It's not deadly unless digested and that's not a nice site to see.

There were packages of napkins and rolls of paper towels. There are lots of tampons that might come in handy for wicks or to trade if I run into other survivors. Which I, really hope I don't. There were several jars of Ajax. Ajax mixed with petroleum jelly makes a good mosquito repellent. No petroleum jelly though. There is however bees wax furniture polish in bar form. That might come in handy somehow.

I'm thinking that this building is not so abandoned after all. Maybe I'm on a floor they don't use or don't use it for anything but besides storage. I have yet to leave the room I woke up in. There is a lunch box on the floor that reads Juno. I opened it to find an empty water bottle, a fork, a spoon and a butter knife. All will come in handy I am sure. Under the lunch box was a vest. A simple two pocket vest but it would do to help keep me warm. In a pocket I found several pages of sequenced numbers. Like for a lock system this building might have. I've not been outside yet but I'm sure is bone chilling cold. Just because the heat is on doesn't mean there are people in the building. It could be gas heat set on a timer

Beside the vest was a cloth tool bag. Not very big and didn't look like it could hold allot of tools. I bend down to pick it up and to my surprise it was sort of heavy. The zipper looked well worn by maybe daily use. The four outside pockets had snaps. In each pocket was a different kind of fastener: two sizes of screws and two sizes of nails. I unzipped the zipper and to my surprise it was full of little hand tools.

I dump the bag onto the counter with a loud thud. Man am I so hoping I am alone in this building. With an echo like that I am sure to be discovered. I turn toward the door, reach to turn off the light and pull the chair out of the way so the door will close. I reach for the five boxes that are lying on the table next to the crate and push them back in. I hurriedly duck under a table out of sight but I'm still able to see the door. I am hoping that there's only one door in and one out. I do still not know my surroundings. This on my part is a very stupid thing.

The crate is the only thing I have investigated. I am so paranoid and edgy due to lack of food and water. Every creek and pop makes me shiver like a little school girl. I coward in my hiding spot for what seems an eternity only to realize I am fighting shadows. I neither hear nor see nothing.

I notice that the sun is still up over the horizon. Bright enough to cast a beam of light on the far wall to show another door. A door to where though. Do I risk opening it to find another unknown? I am in dire need of water. If this is an office building they are bound to have bottled water, a water cooler, or fridge somewhere with an unopened soda. I will wait a while longer and then I will try the door.

. I make my way to the door finally, to only find out that it is locked from the other side. The Key pad on it is reading error so any attempt to open it would be a waste of time. I walk back into the storage closet to sort through the tools that fell from the bag. I recognize lots of tools that are handy but only five stand out as being useful. Ones that could help me in this situation; a ball hammer, a slotted screw driver, a Phillips screw driver, pair of wire clippers and set of Alan wrenches. I glance around to see if there is anything else that I have missed. I have made a nice size stack of things I think I will need but am not sure I will take if and when I decided to leave the confounds of this safe haven. I need to find food so I will try to open the door that I just found. Hopefully something good will be on the other side. Like food and a safe source of water.

As I walk back towards the door, it opens. I freeze. Not knowing what or who to expect I stopped in my tracks. I turned to my left where the banquet table was, and made a split decision to duck and cover. Sitting there like a coward little pup, I realized that if anyone would come through that door they would see right into the janitor closet. The light showed bright against the shadow surrounding giving a good look at what was there to take. I hurriedly stood up and darted toward the closet. I went into the door and reached for the light and it went out by itself. No electric, in an all-electric building was not a good thing. If I wasn't trapped before, I sure the hell was now!

I let my eyes adjust to grey shadowy environment before I try to move in any direction. I'm trying to remember anything that would clue me in on where I am at. I remember going for drinks and wings and that sums it up. Boy the thought of wings just makes my hunger seam more present. I stand up and turn to where I think the door is. I walk in what I think is a straight line toward a wall I knew was there a minute ago. Am I going insane? There was a time I use to do my best work in the dark and now I can't even find a damn wall. I wasted my time going through that shit in the janitors' closet when I should have been looking for food or drink and some kind of light.

I stumbled when I found the knob for the door to the next room. I grabbed the knob and gave it a hard pull towards me. To my amazement it popped open. Just as I thought, it was as dark on that side as it was on my side. Are there not enough damn windows in this building? What the hell have I gotten myself into? I slumped to the floor in defeat.

The more I sat there, the more I realized that it may not be the room that is black. My balance is off and my ears are ringing even louder. The knot on my head is over one of my temples and could be putting pressure on my optic nerves. My equilibrium may be damaged causing temporary deafness in my left ear. Well let's hope it's temporary. A blind deaf man on a blind mission!

I remember seeing a first aid box in the janitors' closet above the light switch. If I could just see to see if there was a cold press in there I would be all right. May be if I just stretch out and prop up my feet the swelling will go down faster. Who knows at this point I am willing to try anything. I just want to see tomorrow come and go. Try to get back to life as I knew it or something like it.

I lay there in the silence listening for any sound. To my disappointment not even a cricket chirp. My feet were hurting, but at least I could feel them. To feel anything at this point is a good thing to look forward to. I prop my head up against a plastic covered office chair. The dizziness and nausea has come back worse than before. I am feeling hunger and pain in my right side. Most likely my kidneys are dry and need fluid.

I saw a box marked MRE on it in that big crate I went through earlier. Possible there is some headache medicine and maybe some iodine pills for the water that comes out of the faucet. I crawled into an office chair and pushed myself in the direction of the crate. I hit it with an awful thud. I guess I am stronger than I realized. Maybe I have the strength to stand and then maybe I don't. I need to prop myself up against the crate with it facing my good eye.

Some vision has returned in my right eye. I lay in the floor for what seemed an eternity but was probably only a few hours. However long it was, it was long enough for some of my swelling to go down. I need to find that box but it seems like darkness has fallen once again. That means eight days have gone by since I have been able to think and get around. How long I was out I have yet determined I know for a sure fire fact that I am not leaving this building until I am well enough to see and stand on my own. Maybe with a use of a make shift cane, but none the less I don't want to be stuck in here any longer than I absolutely have to be.

I should have left everything I dug out of the box on the table. I was scared though. I didn't know if people talking in the hallway were friendly or not. None the less all the same it's back in the crate. Sitting there I took a deep breath. Something either in the crate is dead or its real close by. The foul odor of something that is decaying is never easy to get over.

I sat back down in the chair. Feeling light headed because of the lack of food is no way to be. I need to find that MRE. I consider trying to dump the crate but the last time I tried I almost shit myself. I don't need to hurt my back or possible break my foot if I were to drop it on one. So the only safe way to do it is one item at a time. Maybe since I can see batter I can decipher what some of the stuff is.

I reached for the first box. Light enough to be picked up by one hand. I pick it up and start to read the label. Juneau- box one of four, open set aside and combine with box two. Addressed to Juno, huh. I wish I remembered what the heck happened and how I got here. Who is this Juno? Why is his name so important?

I pick up part of the lid and make a make shift table out of two chairs. Sturdy but kind of wobbly but it will make do. I open the box and it's a bunch of braided paired wire with a diagram. Mmmm! A wiring harness of some sort.

I dig around in the crate for box two. I pick it up. It was a little heavier than box one. I open it and take out the circuit grids that look like; plug and play memory sticks, a see through diagram and with a note for Juno. "Juneau as you can see place diagram B over diagram A. Notice how the patterns over line each other. Follow the codes to build brain modular". Whatever is going on, it does not seem Juneau is up to any good. I put the boards back in the box they came from. As well as the wiring harness back into its own box. Just to be safe. I reach in and pull out the next two boxes numbered two and three. I open each of them carefully not to disturb whatever contents is in them. Box three had four nine volt batteries, three gator clips, a roll of electrical tape, a pair of latex gloves, four wire ties, an another see through diagram.

One and one is adding up to boom. What the hell is in this crate? I open box four it is a little bigger than the other three. It has three plastic bottles marked "Hazardous - Corrosive." That makes me feel a lot better. I shut the lid and place it on the floor in front of the make shift table. Box three and four both had overlapping transparencies that over laid the other two. Wow! Whatever this is, it is to high Tec for me.

I reach in the crate to pick up box five. It was a two hand pick up as well. I open the box to find a mash potato like substance labelled Kevlar Epoxy: Flammable. What was I finding in this crate? Was it apart of the big picture that I am sitting in? Just how many of these things went off. Who is responsible for this? Who is Juneau ? More important where is Juno?

Apparently who ever and where ever this guy is, he did not succeed in what he intended to set out to do. Is this his blood on my clothes? Did I interrupt what he was going to do? If so where is he now?

Kevlar Epoxy, batteries, wire harnesses, and all of that other stuff that I have unboxed so far will not help me. What else will I find in this crate? I stop. Take a deep breath to calm my nerves be for I dig deeper into the unknown. I reach for another box. Box number five. It weighs almost as the one before but stinks like rotten eggs.

I pay attention to where the tape is an gingerly pull back to open the box. Oh man am I getting in deep now. It is a yellow play doe like material labelled Semtex. What the hell was Semtex? I rub my eyes to make sure what I was reading was right. "In case of contact with skin seek medical attention". "Do not induce vomiting". "Flush eyes with saline only". "KEEP AWAY FROM WATER". Great that's very reassuring. . I just touched this stuff and wiped my face. I don't trust the water and if I did its said not to get wet. So I cant get this residue off my hand if I wanted to.

As I dig around in this crate I am guessing I am pretty screwed. I know I saw a survival pack in this crate. It was among a group of manila envelopes Maybe I should stop while I am ahead. Rest for a bit to clear my head. I lean against the crate to catch my breath an check my bearings. Am I really doing this right now. I need to be somewhere else doing something other than going through this crate of destruction. I take a deep breath and start once again trying to get to the bottom of this.

As I start to go through the envelopes the written material starts to look a little more complicated than I am use to. Big words mean geek info to me. What does all this mean? I am hungry, thirsty, and confused. I need to eat some of that peanut butter. I also know if I do eat it, it might speed up dehydration. The only sign of dehydration I don't show is vomiting. I am sure that's next if I do not get some kind of fluid in me.

In the first manila envelope I opened, among the maps and instructions was this letter

Juneau

You need to be out of the building no later than 11:35 am eastern standard time. The EMPD needs to be assembled and in position no later than 11:35 pm eastern standard time. Then its 1900 AGAIN and not just one prominent city anywhere on Earth would suffer dramatically. Tokyo, Hong Kong, London or Paris suddenly thrust backward in time to 1900 would have catastrophic effects. Refrigerated foodstuffs would be soon decayed. You couldn't travel except by bicycle and communication would be non-existent. Your light and heat would be once again be candles and fire. It would take decades to rewire the affected area if it could ever be accomplished. Certainly this scenario is more to the liking of the extremists who wish Western civilization would just go away. Destruction of a few edifices is temporary by comparison.

Always and hurry home

Ayurie

As I read the letter and went through the maps and time lines I got the feeling that if this guy didn't follow everything to the letter he may have killed himself. With the list of ingredients this guy could take out twelve maybe more city blocks. I am not sure I want to meet any of whoever is involved but if this bomb went off and they have the only food and supplies I am sure I want to be as close to them as sanely possible . The text reads like a manual of some sort. I very descriptive detailed schematics on how to build a bomb. A bomb that looks like an average transformer that sit's a top a light pole.

As I start to read I realize this is part fact and part how to. Why would anyone want to send an Electromagnetic Pulse? To kill a city maybe. To kill a nation not so much. Unless this is the first of many that went off. If that's the case then we are all screwed.

It continued.

High Power Electromagnetic Pulse generation techniques and High Power Microwave technology have matured to the point where practical Electromagnetic bombs are becoming technically feasible, with new applications in both Strategic and Tactical Information Warfare. The development of conventional E-bomb devices allows their use in non-nuclear confrontations. This discusses aspects of the technology base, weapon delivery techniques and proposes a doctrinal foundation for the use of such devices in bomb applications.

The execution of a successful Information Warfare (IW) campaign against an industrialized or post-industrial opponent will require a suitable set of tools. As demonstrated in the Desert Storm air campaign, air power has proven to be a most effective means of inhibiting the functions of an opponent's vital information processing infrastructure. This is because air power allows concurrent or parallel engagement of a large number of targets over geographically significant areas.

While Desert Storm demonstrated that the application of air power was the most practical means of crushing an opponent's information processing and transmission nodes, the land based front was out standing in completing the same or even a more efficient means of annihilation

The efficient execution of an IW campaign against a modern industrial or post-industrial opponent will require the use of non-specialized tools designed to destroy information systems. Electromagnetic bombs built for this purpose can provide, where delivered by suitable means, a very effective tool for this purpose.

The Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP) effect was first observed during high altitude airburst. The effect is characterized by the production of a very short but intense electromagnetic pulse, which propagates away from its source with intensity, governed by the theory of electromagnetism. The Electro Magnetic Pulse is in effect an electromagnetic shock wave. This pulse of energy produces a powerful electromagnetic field, particularly within the vicinity of the weapon burst. The field can be sufficiently strong to produce short lived transient voltages of thousands of Volts (i.e. kilovolts) on exposed electrical conductors, such as wires, or conductive tracks on printed circuit boards, where exposed.

It is this aspect of the EMP effect which is of military significance, as it can result in irreversible damage to a wide range of electrical and electronic equipment, particularly computers and radio or radar receivers. Subject to the electromagnetic hardness of the electronics, a measure of the equipment's resilience to this effect, and the intensity of the field produced by the weapon, the equipment can be irreversibly damaged or in effect electrically destroyed. The damage inflicted is not unlike that experienced through exposure to close proximity lightning strikes, and may require complete replacement of the equipment, or at least substantial portions thereof.

Commercial computer equipment is particularly vulnerable to EMP effects, as it is largely built up of high density Metal Oxide Semiconductor (MOS) devices, which are very sensitive to exposure to high voltage transients. What is significant about MOS devices is that very little energy is required to permanently wound or destroy them, any voltage in typically in excess of tens of Volts can produce an effect termed gate breakdown which effectively destroys the device. Even if the pulse is not powerful enough to produce thermal damage, the power supply in the equipment will readily supply enough energy to complete the destructive process. Wounded devices may still function, but their reliability will be seriously impaired. Shielding electronics by equipment chassis provides only limited protection, as any cables running in and out of the equipment will behave very much like antennae, in effect guiding the high voltage transients into the equipment.

(Juno, please pay extra attention to the next five or six pages) was scribbled on the edge of the page

Computers used in data processing systems, communications systems, displays, industrial control applications, including road and rail signaling, and those embedded in military equipment, such as signal processors, electronic flight controls and digital engine control systems, are all potentially vulnerable to the EMP effect.

I put my head in my hands and wonder what I have gotten myself into...

Aaron R Roberts, Author of the "425Hillside" series, and "Still Life "is the middle child of three; one sister and one brother. He grew up in in several different small towns in Southern Indiana. His first book was one in a series that talks about his young years and his attachment to his dad. Life changing events were abundant in his life. Either by chance or grand design he was right there in the middle of it all, but for him it has always been about the story.

He had been writing since his Aunt Elnora told him that he could and would definitively leave his mark on the world that way. She just never told him if it would be a good mark or a bad one but never the less he set out to do so. Twenty years of writing, storing, losing it and rewriting came to head when he discovered KDP (Kindle direct publishing) and then directed to go to lulu self-publishing.

"It is not doing any good on my hard drive." was and still is his philosophy today. Some of his stories have originated from simple beginnings. "Write what you know, know what you write, keep it simple, and close to your heart. You will never go wrong with what you write." ©2014

## Red Moon

# By

## J.R. Cochran

The forest held its breath as I ran through the old growth trees. Turning, I looked over my shoulder to see the glimpse of two shadowy figures. The loud snarling of the pack grew steadily closer. Pressing my body flat against a fallen tree, I slid across it. I then collapsed onto the ground as the sound of two shots ripped through the air. The bullets tore chunks out of the tree beside me. The impact threw bark and wood flying in every direction. I rolled over onto my stomach and exhaled.

It took me a moment to scramble to my feet. With a glance back, I broke into a steady run. A soft whistle caught my attention, freezing me in my tracks. With a half-smile, I looked to the right. There, in the shadows, stood a tall man with long, raven hair and mischievous grin on his scarred face. He pointed left, and I nodded. With a wink he ran off the opposite direction, his long cloak flapping in the wind behind him. Shifting left, with a burst of speed I ran down an embankment, vaulting over a narrow stream. The deafening growls echoed off the mighty pines, growing louder and closer.

I looked around; trying to pinpoint the origin, but the trees masked their location. The beating of my heart pounded against my chest as I struggled up the ridge. Losing my footing, I slipped back down, landing hard on my back, and knocking the wind right out of me. Shaking my head, I opened my eyes to see the blurred shadows of several dogs approaching from upstream. I crawled backwards, slamming into the roots of a tree that was growing out the side of the stream bank. My hands groped for the roots. I caught hold of one and I climbed to the top.

The demonic mutts swarmed below. Leaning up against the wall, barking; they jumped on their hind legs while snapping their jaws. Placing my hand to my lips, I blew a kiss with a quiet giggle I waved adieu. I took flight, dodging around pines as a hail bullets flew past me. Twisting to the left, I saw a shadow of a man standing across the embankment a short distance away, gun drawn and aimed directly at me.

"Get down!" a deep voice from behind bellowed. Dropping flat onto my stomach, covering my ears I glared in the direction of the voice. There, standing beside me, was the cloaked man from before. He lifted his gun, took aim, and fired. There wasn't a single shot, like one would assume, but two. Closing my eyes, I hid my face in the fragrant pine needles beneath me. After a few moments the thunder of the firearms subsided, and I glanced back to see the attacker dead, a shot to the left eye.

"Sir?" I whispered, but there was no response. "Sir!" I said raising my voice only to be greeted with raspy coughs. Crawling across the ground on my belly, to keep out of sight, I approached the place he had been standing.

There, lying on his back, his hands clenched tightly to his abdomen, was my friend. He coughed violently as his honey colored eyes locked with my own; there was deep pain in them. Getting to a sitting position, I pulled his head up as he moaned, biting his bottom lip. His hands clenched into fists as he closed his eyes. Agony drew his brows together and made his jaw tighten as I lay his head on my lap. He released a weak sigh. I lifted his hands up to examine the wound, and blood spurted from his belly up. Placing my fingers down in the hole, I reestablished the pressure. A deep sense of dread filled me as I realized there was no way to save my mysterious friend. There was no way to ease the agony he felt. And there was nothing I could do but watch him die. I ran my hand through his hair, and he smiled weakly.

"Ka¯¬‒" He shuttered coughing blood.

"Shh." I kissed his forehead. "Save your energy."

He shook his head no as his mouth opened and closed slowly. "Ka"

"Yes?" How did he know my name? I surely had no idea who he was.

"R-run! Get o-out of h-hhere!"

"No! I won't leave you." He shook his head once more, lifting his hand up he pointed to the left.

"G-Go!"He whispered as his body began to spasm violently, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Then, with a last gasp, he was still.

Sobbing, I knelt down running my hand across his face, and then shutting his eyes. I started to say a silent prayer when something rustled behind me. I jumped in fear, dropping down on my stomach and camouflaging myself in the bushes. With a quick glance above, I saw them moving closer: a handful of heavily armed men scouting for us, no me. Getting to my feet, I dashed off. The sound of gunshots being fired echoed behind me. A bullet passed over my shoulder, splitting the tree in front of me. Large pieces splintered off and –I sidestepped left. My stomach dropped as the ground seemed to vanish beneath my feet. Rolling head over feet downhill, I slammed into the bark of a thick fir. Dazed, I rubbed the back of my head and tried to collect my thoughts.

Standing a stone's throw away, stood a hooded man flipping around a throwing knife with a cocky grin on his face. His tongue slid over his lips, and he leaned closer, resting his weight on an arm placed beside my face. I could feel him tracing the outline of my body with his fingers.

"Boys over here, I have her!"

"Correction, you had her." I grinned

"What?" He asked, confused. With a swift knee to the gut he was knocked off balance. Rolling around the tree, I took my leave. Running like I had never ran before, the man swore loudly as I vanished into the shadows of the mighty evergreens.

I kept running, never once looking back, only stopping when I came upon a large rock formation. My eyes danced right then left, but boulders stretched out as far as I could see in either direction. Knowing my time was running short I started climbing; halting just as I reached the top. I had made a very peculiar discovery, the boulders obscured a deep chasm. I stared over it. Kneeling down, I grabbed a stone, and rolled it over in my fingers. A moment later I hurled it into the gap, trying to judge how deep it went. It bounced off the cavern walls several times before settling at the bottom; climbing down wasn't an option.

Walking backwards until I could go no further, I turned around, charging as fast as I could toward the lip of the cliff. I catapulted myself through the air and realized a half a second too late that I had misjudged the distance. I reached for the opposite side and caught it. I hung on, absurdly kicking my feet, but my grip was too weak. Slipping I fell, twisting around ricocheting off the sides of the gorge. Screaming!

I woke with a start, gasping, I sat up. I shook uncontrollably, drenched in a cold sweat. Pulling my knees into my stomach, I lay my head down on top of them with a deep sigh. All at once I wanted to forget the nightmare. Yet, at the same time, tried to understand it: to make sense of the whole thing. I no longer called out when these type of dreams occurred because it didn't matter‒like a lot of things in my life. No one would come to check on me, to make sure I was alright. No one cared. If they did I would have pinched myself awake because only in my dreams did that ever happen.

Sliding my legs off the side of my bed, I walked out of my room and down the hall. I stood in the doorway, glaring at the large, undisturbed bed, my hands clenched tightly at side. The bed stayed that way twenty-six days out of the month; why Harper came home at all I never understood. I would never call him dad. Why should I? A father was involved in his child's life! Mine was the complete opposite. If I was going to give him the respect of that title he sure as hell better earn it. Which, to this day, he hadn't. He used to correct me on it, even yell at me. Giving punishments out like candy at Halloween not that it really had any effect. Once Harper realized that he just began to work more. "Harper" would be his title from now until the end of my life.

Sometimes I wanted to scream at my parents' ‒ or someone‒ but there wasn't anyone around. That emptiness resulted in the death of many of my beloved teddy bears. I missed them on nights like this. There was never a comforting word, no one to do the normal shit that parents did for their offspring. I supposed when you were a St. Batersburg civilian that it automatically meant you had to be distant from your children. Never belonged there anyways. Didn't belong here either. Wasn't sure I belonged anywhere.

Grabbing the knob, I slammed the door shut and stormed off down the hall and into the bathroom. I snatched the glass off the counter, filled it up with water, and chugged it. After slamming it down I dragged my exhausted self, back to my room and flopped onto my bed. The clock was on the floor where I'd knocked it off the nightstand in my sleep. It read four thirty-two. I swore and rolled over on my back. I focused on the ceiling above and struggled to think positive thoughts in hopes that sweet dreams would follow. My overtired mind raced, keeping me from sleep, stupid nightmares.

I swore if Willow tried to wake me before noon, like every other morning, I would throw my clock, boots, and anything I could get my hands on until she fled the room. Willow had been my nanny since I was six. She never came before seven am and always left shortly after dinner. Not that I need a sitter. I was sixteen years old and not some child. I was an adult now, but that little detail went unnoticed.

Beside it was summer. I had nowhere to be‒ the fact she insisted on getting me up by nine every morning aggravated me. Did she really think that was a reasonable hour? I swear, old people don't know what sleep is. Probably because they had someone waking them up at the crack of dawn, too. Well, it wasn't going to happen at least not tomorrow for two reasons. One, it was my birthday, you do what you want on that day. I did what I wanted regardless, but that excuse worked every year. Two, I needed it like crazy. It had been weeks since these nightmares began, often several times in one night as well: Was starting to feel like a zombie. Or at least looking like one.

Wasn't quite sure if I fell asleep or not, but when I came to the sun shone brightly on my bed. I still felt strangely exhausted.

I crawled out of bed and pulled a pair of jeans up my narrow hips. I had to wear boy's sizes because girl's jeans were too wide in the hips for me. I was too scrawny. I then dragged a hair brush through my pale, blonde hair and yanked it impatiently away from my face before putting on my t-shirt.

Everyone told me I had my mother's eyes. They were wrong. My mother had bright blue eyes. Mine were dead. Tired from lack of sleep and looked more gray than blue. I tried not to meet my own gaze in the mirror when I passed it in the bathroom.

Hopping into a warm shower, I sat on the tiled floor and closed my eyes as the water cascaded down my body, dreading what I knew I could not avoid. After a hour of steamy solitude I dried off, throwing my clothes back on. I skulked down the stairs like a cat after its prey, in hopes to avoid everyone. In the last ten years my success rate of avoiding the irritating birthday meal, singing, games, presents--was staggering zero percent. It wasn't as if there were other ways out of this prison. My house was built on a steep hill--out my window was a good thirty foot drop to onto a steep, rocky river bank. Going out that way was insane. Going to the hospital was not exactly my cup of tea. The only other option was to sneak downstairs, make sure no one in the kitchen to the left, spotted me, and book it the front door.

That was where the plan crumbled. The family room sat adjacent to the front door; everyone sat happily deep in conversation until I walked by. The room grew silent; every set of eyes diverted their attention on me as if I was goddamn royalty. Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself over to the couch and dropped onto the leather cushions, exhaling miserably. No part of me looked forward to the torture that was to follow. Especially the lifeless chit-chat about who was marrying who, who had babies, who died, who... So on, and so on. Someone please stab me and leave my body to the wolves. Anything was better than this. Not that any of these people actually cared about me or my family; they just came here to enjoy the party. Other than that none of them even kept in touch. I preferred for it to stay that way.

It went on forever. Then, to make it worse, I was dragged into the dining room and forced to sit at the head of table. The swinging door pushed forward as Willow stepped out, carrying a large, homemade cake. She was a short, petite young woman. Standing in her knee length tea dress, her long white blonde hair was put up in a tight coiffe with curls dangling down upon her bare shoulders. A sweet smile filled her freckled face with such kindness and love. Though I no longer need a nanny, something about her company was nice, relaxing, comfortable, and welcoming. But you didn't hear that from me. Today of all days she was the only person I was happy to see here. The others looked at her in disgust, like she was rotten food. All because she was from Merrihayna.

Merrihayna was tribe outside the colony borders; they were outcasts forbidden to leave their land by order of Lady Eva Blackstein, the President of Javin, under penalty of death. As a result many uprisings against the colony occurred. That was why we were here instead of home with my mother and siblings. Harper was a General in the Javin Royal Alliance. RA for short. He was one of the best they had, and they needed him badly. That was why we were stationed here. It had been so many years since we left that I had lost count. Rebellions struck out here and there, but for the most part Harper's troops kept the tribe under control. From the sound of it, we weren't going anywhere in the near future.

The way they looked at Willow made me shiver in fury. She wasn't one of those crazed nomads who lived in the tribe. They sought to destroy everyone in the colony in order to take over the city. She was the sweetest, most loving woman you would ever meet. Willow cared more for Harper and me than my own mother who, to my delight, didn't show for today's party.

Placing the cake down on the table, Willow stuck silly twisty candles in it. Then a man stepped forward. Who was this guy? A cousin? An uncle? To be honest, I had no idea who half the people here were. He stopped at my side, a cocky look on his face. The man swung his arm directly into the cake.

It slid across the oak table, smashing to the ground and splattering against everything. A roar of laughter and cheering rang out from the crowd. I launched myself to my feet with clenched fists, glaring at Harper who stood leaning up against wall in the furthest part of the large room with arms tightly folded across his chest. His aging face contorted in disgust with deep disapproval as he looked away. Coward! No matter how much he disliked, disapproved of, or even hated what they did he would never intervene.

The man walked behind me, knelt down, taking a large chunk of cake in his hands. Pinning Willow to the wall, he smeared it in her face until it was covered completely in frosting. He laughed as he shoved her away, but her eyes were kind and almost pitied him. I hated that she was so kind to them year after year even though they treated horse crap with more respect. I clenched my teeth as my cheeks began to burn. Hey asshole, do something stupid. Come on. Give me a reason. God, I hate every single one of them, and I longed to be able to give these spoiled, lazy brats a lesson.

With the others cheering him on, the man lowered his face closer to hers to the point their noses nearly touched. He had a deep whiny voice, the typical Rosalian accent that was considered proper—sounded more like a child not getting his way at the toy store.

"Useless creature. No one here wants your cake." An ugly smile covered his face, waiting as if daring her to say something. Willow remained silent. "I can't see why, my dear, hardworking brother thinks your work is better than any of these decent colonists but..." He leaned in, whispering in her ear just loud enough that I could hear. "You must treat him real good pe'ato." He winked, as his hand raced down the side of her body.

That was it! The last straw. I spent enough time in the capital to know that pe'ato was horrible name to give to a woman. So horrible I refuse to tell you what it means. Storming past everyone, anger burning in my eyes, I stood in front of him. Pulling my arm back, I knocked him in the jaw with such force that he fell to the floor. A surprised, yet dumbfounded look covered his face. I choose not to stick around, rushing past the shocked stares as I pounded my feet up the stairs all the way to my room. I slammed the door behind me.

"What is wrong with these people?" I swung my fist into the center of a full length mirror, shattering it. Seven years bad luck was worth it. Collapsing onto my bed I took deep breaths, holding them then exhaling before repeating the process.

My hand stung with pain. I looked at it and swore when I saw that it was covered in blood. Small streams dripped down my arm. That was stupid. I grabbed the towel out of my hamper and applied pressure on the cuts until they stopped bleeding. Removing the towel, I tossed it to the ground, falling on to my back I examined the injuries. They weren't as bad as I first thought.

J.R. Cochran - I am single mom of two. Things haven't always been easy but with the help of friends and lots family I am headed in the right direction. At a young age I would create an imaginary world with my toys, video games, other people, and drawings and even from pennies. Even in high school I was still able to dive deep into an imaginary world just out of nowhere and stay for many hours. I didn't start writing till the eighth grade when a teacher of mine had assigned us a daily journal, which might I add I hated to do. So instead of her daily topics, I wrote one, now it wasn't very good due to the fact that it wasn't really mine.

What I mean is that it wasn't my voice it sounded like the writers I was reading at the time. A girl in my class read a part and told me I was good but I didn't focus too much on that at the time or cared. It wasn't till my second year in high school that I got my true calling. A creative writing and English teacher of mine, who to this day I credited to pushing me to start down this way, introduced me to a side of me I didn't know existed. She believed in me when no else did and thought I could go far with this but it would take ten years before I would really find my voice and start really writing.

## Riff

# By

## Reed Rosson

### TUNE WARRIORS (aka THE MUSIC CITY NIGHT DREAM)

On go the courageous and tenacious tune warriors . . . strumming silver strings after nixing nylons gunning into the neon Nashville nightlights running right after the freshest and fullest bluffing moon, bloated golden beginning to leak a hot lunar-nectar we see it spill onto a coward in flight simultaneously exposing the sphere's brave and ageless face as well as sage-scented deep craters of rage and plight

We reluctantly lament our creative differences without being craven on the oozing outskirts of this honey-dew-dipped honkytonk town yet with an immensely well-deserved gratitude we gracefully play acoustic instruments surrounding a bonfire adjacent to a stronghold in the countryside

In a fire-starting spice of manic frenzy set aflame by harmony and unity we sing our near-hardened hearts out with our unique and rare golden passion becoming suddenly sincere you begin to greet me on the battlefield with a gift of song and the melody was wet like a virgin dream and now we are a team faced with one last challenge

### INSANITY'S KING

Greeting at the gates

I can feel my mind mangling

I'm simmering down a bit

My eyes are bright and spangling

I clench my fists

I'm getting rather nervous

I blink twice fast

before I shrug my shoulders

Pleading at her feet

I'm begging on my knees

I swallow my tongue when

my heart skips three beats

My princess won't see I'm weak

if I put her to bed soon

and don't think to speak

when she tells me she loves me

### SIN CITY

inch by inch

and with

a loss of

innocence

sin crawls across

this fucked-out city

glowing with

a death of faith

this heavy

atmosphere

is full of rage

and tears

### CARPE DIEM DREAM IN A DEEP MEDITATION

In spurts of courage across the dirt

we worship this earth

breathing in and out

soaking in the scent of the soil

reflecting on our lives

reminding ourselves

to remain grateful...

Indeed...we have seized the day!

...and you cease to be unappreciated

like a finally-inspired serf

yet you are not alone...

and all the kings and queens...

their castles have burned!

you are no longer enslaved

to a life of ruin and rust

and the lust of sadistic masters

of their disastrous craft

and vast shadows of monsters that taunt you

attempting to tease your trust

you strong and brave stranger

you admirable tune warrior

you are free to go on now

you are free at last

### JUNKY HOTEL

thieves

liars

egomaniacs

addicted to death and sacrifice

this hole is filled with a long-lost

treasure

of final opportunity

truth is mixed

in these mildewed rooms

with ambivalent chaos

and insulting humor

sickness spreads

and splashes

and splatters

like a torrential

diarrhea-storm

attacking the inside

of an innocent

toilet bowl

this havoc-worn place

in all its spectacular ruin

remains haunted

by bunches

of dead dreamers

and captured souls

imprisoned

yet calm

and endearing

enjoying their stay

I praise them

for being so humble

### LOVE BUG

Diddley Bop goes off on a rubberneckin'

little pinch of groovy doo wop sailing' through the speakers coming' from the diner jukebox Plain-faced Mable serves us blueberry pancakes and I've got my eyes on the maple syrup and hot butter melting' on my fat stack A pleasant morning, indeed We scream We sing along to Dion and the Belmont's unable to complete our breakfast "More coffee, Mable!" I shrug before we hug "Gimme some of yo' sugar, I caught the Love Bug!" A blue angel whispers while we sit inside while the wind blows, rain falls and we continue to sing up a storm We wait out the wet weather I've got a rockin' raw rumble in my tummy I got so much to live for I even got you honey You met me in the mud We got to tumble You caught the Love Bug What a dirty girl Now there ain't no end to what we can accomplish Rub a dub-dub How 'bout a Ducky We caught the Love Bug The rest is bullpucky

### OUTSIDER

Your sullen face in the dark

frowns at a quirky clown

on the outside of the window

in the round room of your house

The sky made some sense that night

when it was full of falling dark stars

but you looked up and cried

Love me any way that you can

If you can

I didn't understand

I was hoping that had

a minute for me

and a shit-eating grin

Girl you make me spin right around

everywhere I go

I'm on the outside looking in

and I guess that I'm a goof

You

caught me by surprise

when you called my name but I...

But I don't wanna go away

and I sure can't hide the truth

### SEX GODDESS

soft skin

rubbing against

even softer skin

warm flesh

exciting your

quick senses

you are

sexually stimulating

you are

a goddess

and in your divinity

you give dreams

to slaves

and lowly servants

desperate

in their lust

### MANIC DEPRESSIVE VACATION

i am pressing my own distressed flesh

with tender fingertips

and bourbon-flavored smoke pours into the sand

i fall face down into the beach

reaching for a starfish

the bluest of moons

looks down on me

begging for me to smile

though i cannot shake my blind rage

and fulfill my blue dream tonight

i can still breathe

i can still love

i will hug the bottom of the ocean

i will squeeze the surface of the saltwater

with trembling hands

and pray for better luck

tomorrow

### A HATER'S PRAYER

beating

in my head

a hatred seeping out

a row of hearts

and double crossers

everyone

I see that gleaming light

I gotta fight

the urges to get high

I realize

that all who wander

are not lost

they just don't exactly know

where to go

anymore

we will know though

once we get there

will we not?

we're so

distraught

and disorganized

I cannot help but

tell myself some sugary

sweet lies

and fantasize

about a better tomorrow

may I borrow

your

smile?

you're not using it

today

I pray that

we are still together

### A VISION OF A BLACK AND WHITE NIGHT

operatic doo wop-laden rock 'n' roll songs

influence the open air in a dimly-lit hollow auditorium

they assassinate

the dreadful silences that haunted you

before you suited up and showed up

and got your welcoming dose of love

you worried you never would receive again

against your own wishes you finally gave a good goddamn

ooby dooby woo hoo doo wah

look into the stars when walkin' out of the show

why don't you pat yourself on the back real slow

when and if you make it to the parking lot

and remember to be glad and ever so grateful

for whatever it is that you've got

### PEANUT BUTTER MAFIA

One summer

I was eatin' a chess pie in the mornin'

I was wired, striped and glowin'

as I had a tasty bite I realized

the Peanut Butter Mafia was right

So I made a deal with the Don:

I would rock out on the box-truck

and work hard, hard as a hockey puck

'til I was Schlitz-out-of-luck and I choked on dust

I got skiffle-scraped by touching thorns

and I was tickle-raped by singing trees

but then was seduced by Good Peace

by maybe eight or nine at night

Yes I was out like a light but

hey I gotta tell ya

Ever since I been a part of the crew

I've been bitter and rude

so

fuck you

I need some space

I want to get out of this place

You bring the rhythm 'n the roots

I'll buy the case

Oh boy

do I feel jewed!!!

Furious I come n' go

Curious with the flow

oh no I'm feelin' bright as the sun

I can't decide where my toes will point

if I smoke another joint

on the set of this TV show rerun

called Peanut Butter Mafia

It got cancelled days ago but I didn't know

'cause no one cared to tell me so

The PBM took a strike so I starved at night

at that point in my life I was picking fights

with the walls within my sight

I wanted them to be rearranged

because they stared at me strange

then I sat down feelin' deranged

for ten minutes or so

I decided to spend

the rest of my agenda

reading Christian propaganda

and sent myself to bed

feeling offended, spinning

my head

I was distant but close to reality

though almost to fatality I can boast

from coast to coast

Maybe that's what I'm supposed

to do instead of screwin' with douche

bags like you as I always do

The Peanut Butter Mafia is on top of it

and they've had me assessed

I've been re-possessed

and I need to be restrained

Oppressed by society and depressed by its atrocities

Plus you and your philosophy are flawed

However if

it's for a good cause I'll

pause to listen

Now the Mafia is dead because they gave the Devil head,

they smoked meth and they banged dirty whores

Now I might haul my ass to town to be a Kandy Koloured Klown

or help Little Debbie with her heavy petting chores

### IN YOUR BLISS

in your bliss

bad thoughts have

run away

you've witnessed

yourself

at peace

against all odds

with dead flowers

in your yard

with your lover

gone forever

and your eyes

that have seen pure

terror

you capture

the essence

of a life worth living

in your

bliss

### FAREWELL FROM A KILLER

when the blood of night

stains forbidden soil

and the moon begins to smile

you will see me laughing

off the edge of a cliff

strangling my innocence

and wishing you

the very best of luck

### NATURAL THERAPY

the clouds formed faces

and began to scatter

shapelessly

it was one

of those funky days

where

I'd felt like a ghost

and I pondered my

purpose

on this

earth

I walked way out

into the woods

wandering about

as the trees understood

and so did

the birds

it was a place

which defined peace

when the easy wind

blew against my cheeks

I decided I was right

where I needed to be

in that very moment

in time

I floated to

the part of the creek

that called out my name

where I'd meticulously meet

the water I splashed

with my loving hands

refreshed

rejuvenated

at last

I was elated

to feel that alive

### DEMONBABY

my ass is raw

my feet's on fire

I cannot fall

I am a liar

I want innocence to die

I want to feast on timid souls

you can see my breath

because it resembles hellfire

I squeezed out of Satan's pussy

no one was gleeful

and oh don't you know... it was glorious

you have claimed

I cursed you for eternity

there may be some truth to this

I must fulfill my duty

and this is not the end

for I have sworn

greatly against your freedom

for I am made of sin

###  SPIN-DRIFT>CYNGES

Serendipity spin-drift

bound to send to my spells a little clarity

rare in a friendship

A cheerful hope for a man of mystery

I'm compatible to the collateral of dawn with day

A little light shine over the hill a bit far away and I sway

with the wind til it merely blows me away

Sometimes I don't need to say please or thank you

just "okay"

I like to think that

even if I were a dangerous man

I'd plan to stand in the Safety Zone

even if I was there all alone

and I was shown a pretty face

on the other side of the road

# ***

Cynical gestures are celebrated hypnotically, my eyes wander to the surface of the blooming horizon across yonder way. My pummeled brain feels a unique pain and I shiver softly feeling tame... what was that girl's name? It doesn't matter, I'll never see her again. I unravel mystic memories from the core of my grateful enterprise and smell coffee in the air...

My head thunders like a storm in the summer but my heart is as warm as an antique candle in the wintertime. I'm opening up myself a tad more and gently resisting the near-sighted sores of my slamdunk-depression. You're in my possession I'm in yours--I won't fear rejection, I won't feel remorse, but passion. There's a higher force. I restore my previous decision to soak in the foam of reality, which had once been conceived as an ultimate bore, lacking sobriety...

### CREATURE

a suffocating creature

convulses in the darkness

and bleeds before my eyes while I smile

it has been locked in a dungeon

for over a decade

I offer the beast

no mercy

and watch it die

a slow

agonizing

death

so sweetly

its demise

allows a freedom of my own

to blossom

### THE MAD COUPLE

your ugliness

is noticeable

at this

moment

yet I am

caught

off guard

and I see

myself

in you

the hate

that you

preserve

escapes from

the very

pores

of your skin

and a darkness

falls

on us

as a pair

of shallow

and cowardly

subnormals

aching

to never be

seen

again

### MORE OF THE MAD COUPLE

we are wilfully held captive

by our irresistible charm

we both see that we are more or less equal

never wishing each other harm

i allow you to see me

in my deepest darkest slumber

snoring away my blues into love

and lavender-scented pillows

full of pigeon-feathers

i squeeze out pieces of your starving love

from that taunting flesh of yours

you dream up a ravaging storm

and my raging thunder rules over you

and you tie me to your body with soft

and delicate arms

arms as white as pristine flakes of snow

while we caress each other's sensitive souls

not for the first time yet not for the last

on this truly treasured day

you cease to bring me pain

ah, dear lover, let us laugh

in the rain

### SMASH!

When I get that feelin' I'm lookin' Danger in the eye

Then I find myself all alone and a-wonderin' why

I ain't ever had no real love in my entire life

It's just not as simple to me as if I'm a-rollin' the dice

Smash!

I'm drinkin' beer and smokin' hash

The next day rolls on by and boy willya look at that!

One too many once again and I proved it'd never last

Stand my ground like I own it then I gotta take a big step back

Smash!

I'm downin' brews and smokin' crack

Thinkin' about what I've done baby I've been so bad

But I must admit baby this sickness has put me to the task

Smash!

Smash!

Flash!

Bang!

Bang!

### THE DAY THE EARTH DIED

My mind decides to wander and I pause

I'm a positive figure and I don't resent my flaws

Learning to live, learning to love

Taught to give, for happiness is the cause

and so too I wish effect!

Don't ever mistake my kindness for weakness

Life can be full of simple sweetness

It's all about tweaking your perspective

since most everyone has the ability to be receptive

to an extent we're innocent!

The Day the Earth Died came and went all in a haze

It left me dazed and stuck, still pondering my ways

But it's alright if I tell you it's okay

Allow me to demonstrate if I may :

and yes here I go again!

I admit I was rather cloudy in the head

It was so early in the morning I was layin' in my bed

I wasn't asleep, no, I wasn't awake, I was dead!

It could have been the end right then!

### A COMMON GROUND

there is

a common ground

we stand on

we reveal ourselves

and revel in a special silence

that is unknown

to outsiders

for they simply lack

the experience

of a connection

to past pain

perhaps they buried

their trauma

and they resist

any opportunity

to face the ice-cold

explicit truths

of what once used to be

~

I gotta crawl

before I walk

like a little bitty baby

Hey, this hole is so

dark and eerie

I've been cursed

with a fear and despair

I'm gonna rock n roll

right out this fuckin hole!

My head feels heavy

but I'm ready to blast off

into a distance

I've never really known

all the way

I'm pushing myself

thru all kinds

of new experiences

(more things

I've never known)

Running back and forth

from one place

then the next

losing

and gaining energy

for miles and

for years

So much pain

to endure

I've come to embrace it

I face these changes

and these challenges

carrying a torch

### SOURED NOSTALGIA

I looked out of a wet and weathered windowpane

I peeked thoughtfully and thoroughly thru a thick smog

caked over the glass--thanks to the pollution (the dark toxic fog)

I flew into a Reed-iculous Rage after I witnessed this pitifully-plagued and piss-poor place which had now lacked any sense of dignity or significance

since I dared to finally put it to the test

what had my homeland become...a mere land of waste?

as if it were all a dirty joke told right to my face

in such rough shape I declared it a current disgrace

I retreated to the windowpane with a bit of haste

I started to shriek when I saw a cheap and trashy abstraction

although I had no expectation of such a sullen symbol of satisfaction

I was fortunate enough to see my fiercely flashing reflection

from simply peeping in the way of that dank and dark dead-ended direction

### GRIZZLY GOPHER

Fuzzy-pawed hours are flyin' by

Hey, can you sit down with me

for a little part of your day

We've got some reminiscin' to do

Don't act like you don't know me

Hey, don't be a stranger, pal

Do you remember way back when?

I want to know how you feel right now

Don't be a grizzly gopher

You never played by the rules before

There's a white light shinin' in your corner

but you're not as friendly anymore

I always knew you were a hairy hedgehog

but don't be a grizzly gopher

It's okay to give me the cold shoulder

but I thought you were my brother

It's fucking freezing outside, man

I'm hopin' you'll welcome me into your home

There's a patch of fur I've just heard about

Rabbit's foot keychain lucky charm

I've always known you was a hairy hedgehog

but don't be a grizzly gopher

No, don't be a

grizzly gopher

You're one grouchy son of a gun

but you oughta not be so cocky

You traded in your thin cell phone

for a candy walkie-talkie

I'd rather you revert

to being something of a lover

Old stubborn friend of mine

don't be a grizzly gopher!

### THE BELLEVUE STRANGLER

she swiftly and shakily slipped me a love note

i broke her hard-heart and shipped it by boat

along with myself, I brought the rest of her with me

the best of the rest of her in the blood-red, deadened sea

soon enough

the once-fluffed-up-dead moon

stood still and stiff, weakly at night

so there was no light nothing to shine bright

not very much other than hatred and spite

pale face flashing twice the size of her height

cold backwater blues and a cup of hot matcha green tea

that couldn't heal you now, hell

nor could even 15 shots of Kentucky bourbon whiskey

i strangle her and throw off the boat

back into the now redder and deader sea of "love"

i wait and watch and pray for hope

i wait and watch her lovely, beautiful

and bloated corpse float

### BURN

I found a stepping stone

into inferno

I know I'm gonna

burn real

good baby

I'm simmering

and I'm

sizzling

as all the red

dances

The heat

laughs

in my face

A dull hot knife

slices right into my

spine

I sure feel that

burn

while the fire is my new friend

### DIRTY BIRDIE

Time, it flies when you're havin' fun but it sure stands still under my gun !!! Does it NOT,honeyBUNNY ??? Give me some sugar, LOVE ME! LEMME give you MONEY I am the CLITMASTER Doo the nasty FASTER than the LAST time! LEMME lick your BUTTHOLE n' doo the dirty birdie I am HURDY GURDY Lemme do the DIRTY BIRDIE I am hurt and early but ALL for YOU TOMORROW!

TODAY, WHAT A DISASTER!

DOO the nasty FASTER than the LAST TIME!

Lemme love you longer

Longer than my schlong Our

love keeps gettin' stronger

Stronger than strange danger

I am a funk ranger like an angel

that claimed to bang ya

and I mean the dirty birdie

Lemme do ya dirty

Doo the dirty birdie but don't hurt me!

### WHITE KNIGHT

white knuckling

white knight

fight to the death

or will you dare

run and hide?!

what has happened

to your courage?!

remember all those

medals you were

awarded

and sigh . . .

the entire village

of Carrington

cries!

the princesses

and the paupers

are waiting to

die

without you

in the battle

it's not just another

hassle

everybody's precious

life

is on the line

### ALLEYCAT

a pacifying melody

in a feminine voice

rings throughout

a Nashville alley

the only listener

is a homeless drunk

on a blood and piss-

stained sidewalk

which is rundown

and cracked

"ohh...you..." he slurs,

"you're like some

exotic, precious

bird..."

the lady-voice vanishes

and the man weeps alone

before throwing up blood

and dying with a crooked smile

### EXXXPERIMENTAL RHYME

Yum yum yum

Lemme lay down the thunder

Oh, I wanna go down under

coolly visit your temple

and make you my lover

Without a sudden hint

but a pinch of grace

you nullify all hate

and with patience remain complacent in this case

with my hard-cock pressing against your flesh

you fall into a moist orgasmic mess

anger's creation has now been defeated

I only long for your touch aw baby I need ya

### BOOMBOX

# (Dedicated to Zion Godchaux & DJ Russ Randolph)

Bump about anywhere, come dance

Don't feel insecure, it might be your last chance

Air guitar, spin, a touch of romance

BoomBox will bring out that old innocence

Are you gonna come and rage tonight?

Vibrations through the ground hold me captive

As soon as I get there, I'll feel just right

Faded are the anxieties that once had me distracted

You can come join me if you would like

But dude to be real it don't really matter

Don't tag along if you're lookin' to fight

Save it for another scene, go 'n get your lip fatter

Heady is the crowd of freaks

challenged to a smooth and very steady groove

I'm bouncin' like a ball, ruddy are my cheeks

A sound system offering me the ability to move

Ready I am now to participate

All this energy helps me stay tops

The treatment allows me to regulate

I'm puttin' all my faith into the ragin' BoomBox

This treatment allows me to concentrate influx

I'm puttin' all of my rage into the faithful BoomBox

### WAR WITHIN US

we press on

in a world

we can't define

but

we must get

used to for

we wish not

to be left

behind

I come to

see you when

you need to be

seen

I trek thru

this damaged

planet

and bleed

again and again

wounded

wishing for

relief

as pressure

and pain

push me to

the edge

where I do have

a rather pleasant

view

of what is

to come

I am exactly

where I need

to be

### DEAD MAN

twist

my lifeless arm

so I will tell

the truth

and make

the pain

vanish in

the fog

we both created.

we jumped across

the pond

and ruled

the other side

like fascist

little frogs

baby.

to you

it's all a game

and baby

I'm done playing.

ha!

you made

a dead man outta me

and you still

get to live.

maybe...

Neighborhood girl has been around the block

with open arms she accepts your inner child

I've seen her watch while grown men flock

to her for her touch is so tender n mild

(She's so, so real...)

The look in her eyes tells me of a collection

of painful love stories endured

With courage she has fought for her affection

All the while she was never too sure...

(...of herself... She's true..)

She's got a haunted heart

She's old enough to be your mama

She'll have a brand new start

cuz she's tired of bein' a target

You'll catch more flies with honey, son

why you wastin all that vinegar?

With the way you've been treatin her, son

you must be tryin to lose her

She'll take you under her tough angel wing

and she tries not to judge you, ohh no!

She knows she don't know everything

So let her dream...

(let her through

your barrier...)

She said she's freed herself from the past

but I bet you she's always had that sparkle in her eye

You're gonna have to make her love last

or else you may start to be wondrin why...

(..she's still there...)

She's the girl with a

haunted

heart

### HOME FREE

I'm high on a mountain

I'm far away from the city

I'm lookin' clean as can be

I'm gettin' goddamned gritty

I'm nailin' down

'cause I'm screwin' up

I'm a magic man

not givin' a fuck

I've been rearranged

'cause I was put out of place

I've always been deranged

with a funny face

I'm a lover and a loser

I'm a winner and a wanker

My good girl's been bad

and now it's time to spank her

That dread-locked woman got me by the tail

Zippy-pops quibble in a womp-jail

I'm seemin' sorta smart

from a very stupid feelin'

I'm upside down

'cause I'm walkin' on the ceilin'

I'm soundin' like a man

but I'm actin' like a mouse

I'm starin' up at the moon

I'm naked in a glass house

### MY ADMIRATION FOR HER

she remained unscathed

by an insulted interior

while the face of her pain

cowered away.

she retained real strength

with an excited exterior

battling up against

another brutal day.

she knew life was tough

so she gave herself love

braving a blustery storm

of thoughts so forlorn.

my admiration for her

it grew and it grew

and she adamantly admired me

for simply being true.

### STEREOLOVE

Old-fashioned

jukebox in my brain

The Man kick me out of the

pumpkin patch and zebra farm

There's nuthin' heady about this place, mon

but we always make the best of things

So friends, sing it kindly...

Stereo-Love!

Electric soul-saver keep me company

I'm-so-in-love!

with this spiritual discovery

Stereo-Love!

Come let me show you something I see

Now aren't-you-in-love?

with the truth muzak out to set you free

Now come together friends

Sing it kindly

Time is passin' on by

but none of us worry

The Great Big Sky has been stumblin'

but it's not fallen

I hope you can stay long, please

don't be in a hurry

I've got a special gift of song

and it's for you my darling

Stereo-Love

alive all night long!

Stereo-Love

will heal a broken heart!

The truth never sounded so lovely...

### OUTLANDER!

I could be painting my masterpiece I could be saving the world

You made me come I am unfamiliar with the territory Yes, I feel like a stranger But I'm havin' tons o' fun You know I came to get down and I can already smell the fresh smoke in the air I don't know my way around Won't you show me the ropes? Our voices sound so ominous in lieu of the danger we place ourselves in Bang a rang, baby How could I ever leave you alone?

Maybe I will do it for the inspiration or because I wanted to be a hero

Everything I love is missing in action but I must remain the warrior I am even if it means taking more chances and abandoning some blood in this barren wasteland

Maybe I will do it for the inspiration . . .

### MIRACLE MAN

they called him

miracle man

because it seemed

like he was

a perfect person

with humor and ideas

wisdom and spirituality

and honesty and ambition

but I just

saw him as kind of

a sad guy

with a gentle fire in his

eyes

and ice in his heart

ice that melted

whenever a flower died

or a baby

was born

he was haunted

when he loved

he was haunted

when he laughed

green and red lights

blinded him on Xmas Eve

and he was haunted still

but somehow he kept trucking on

with that classic shit-eating grin

as if to say

"is that all you got?"

and I could never quite figure

him out but I knew and

understood his pain

the day I heard

of his suicide

it seemed as if

I was the only one in town

that was not

surprised

### ALL KINDS OF CREATURES

Missus Spock screamed to the mouse,

"You've got to go, get out, get out!"

The mouse shouted to the bird,

"I wish I could fly like you!"

The bird exclaimed to the cricket

"You chirp too loudly

while I am trying to sleep!"

The cricket told the rabbit

"Bunny, go hop somewhere else!"

But it takes all kinds of creatures

to take up this space

The bumble bee stung

the mailman on a hot day

in the very sweaty Summer

The mailman was not amused

He yelled "what a bummer!"

A grizzly bear cried out

"I'll have you for breakfast!"

while the raccoons and the foxes

played along together

The duck quacked to the turtle,

"You are much too slow for my taste,

but it takes all kinds of creatures

to make up this place!"

A man of few spoken words, he leaves the important stuff as displayed in his lyrics. "I am an experimental artist, writer, and musician. I was born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee", Are his exact words.

On go the courageous and tenacious tune warriors . . . strumming silver strings after nixing nylons gunning into the neon Nashville nightlights running right after the freshest and fullest bluffing moon, bloated golden beginning to leak a hot lunar-nectar we see it spill onto a coward in flight simultaneously exposing the sphere's brave and ageless face as well as sage-scented deep craters of rage and plight

we reluctantly lament our creative differences without being craven on the oozing outskirts of this honey-dew-dipped honkytonk town yet with an immensely well-deserved gratitude we gracefully play acoustic instruments surrounding a bonfire adjacent to a stronghold in the countryside

In a fire-starting spice of manic frenzy set aflame by harmony and unity we sing our near-hardened hearts out with our unique and rare golden passion becoming suddenly sincere you begin to greet me on the battlefield with a gift of song and the melody was wet like a virgin dream and now we are a team faced with one last challenge

© 2014, Robert Reed Rosson

## The Isolation Horror

# By

## Kevin S. Hall

The scuttling sound was the first thing Jim Cardon heard at 2.30am. It had been a torrential downpour of rain that had been going on all night, and even that had worried him. It had become relentless – thundering off the windows and roof. He was more concerned of being flooded... until the scuttling had begun.

At first he thought it might have been the rain – he had a very vivid imagination that ran away with him at times, but as he listened closer it sounded more like an animal. A racoon perhaps? A fox? It was not impossible. Yet it sounded different from any animal he had heard before, and a lot faster and louder. Almost... alien. It had gone on for almost ten minutes, and he was now worried it would wake up the rest of his family.

Claire Cardon slept soundly beside him – he let slip a smile - she could probably sleep through a wild storm or a hurricane and not be woken. This was something different... and it scared him. It scared him more than any horror film he'd ever seen. He couldn't get back to sleep. The sound was constant – scuttle, scuttle, scuttle. There would be a break for a few seconds before it started again. The thing outside seemed to be circling the house, trying to find a way to get in.

Jim was not going to let that happen.

Without waking his wife, he pulled back the covers slowly and put on his slippers. His dressing gown was on the hanger so he put this on too. He didn't fancy going outside in thunderstorm and become a drowned rat, but if he had to he would. He would do anything to protect his family.

The gun was on a mantle high above the dresser and he grabbed this now, checking it was still fully loaded. Luckily, it was. There had been no deer the night before. It had been in his family for generations – some said it had magical qualities but he didn't believe in such bullshit. Real horror was one thing, but magic? That was just made up for the movies or wannabe magicians.

The scuttling continued – he was surprised it hadn't woken up the whole damn house. Maybe he was the only one who couldn't sleep. Now he regretted not taking the sleeping pills after all. He opened the door to the bedroom with a low creak. Claire turned over in her sleep, muttering something. Jim hesitated. Should he wake her and tell her about the noise? Maybe she could figure out what it was. She was good at studying rare animals. Nah... she would just say he was being silly and go back to sleep.

Besides, if it was a real threat, she might suffer... and he had had enough suffering in his life already. Jim rubbed his unshaven white stubble. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry, and the hairs on his back prickled with fear. What was making him feel like this? He didn't want to find out but knew he had no choice. The sound was becoming unbearable.

Jim tiptoed out onto the landing, passing the kids bedroom. Becky and Adam were probably fast asleep, but human instincts told him to check on them anyway. Better to be safe than sorry. He peered in, his momentary panic laid to rest. They were both fast asleep. If anything happened to them... Jim tried not to think about it. One thing at a time. He had to determine whether the threat outside was dangerous.

He crept down the stairs, rifle in hand. They were getting clammy; sweat was dripping down his forehead. He hadn't felt like this in years, not since his father... Scuttle, scuttle. Damn, it sounded so close. It was like a thousand spiders, crawling around trying to get to him. As he neared the bottom, the terror took hold like never before. He could sense its presence, the air around him becoming thinner. He felt unable to breathe and he dropped the rifle, collapsing to the stairs and clutching his throat.

The smell... it was rancid. Like burning flesh. Rotten. It then dawned on him that the thing wasn't outside after all. It was in the house. Stalking him. He felt like a rabbit caught in headlights and he knew he couldn't take on this thing alone. He wanted to turn tail and run but he was rooted to the spot. The sound was getting louder. It felt like it was almost on top of him.

Then Jim heard the wail. It started of low, deep, before rising into a spine-tingling screech. The shadow rose up on the wall in front of him, a mass of tentacles withering and swaying. The body was massive, hunched like a large shell. It hissed and spat, still screeching.

Jim had only seen the shadow, but it was enough to make him find his feet and leg it up the stairs, to the relative safety of his bedroom. He had half expected the thing to come lumbering after him, but it did not happen. The sound had also stopped. He turned very slowly to look at the wall. The shadow was gone. Had he just imagined it? Had his tired, overacting brain just showed him something that wasn't there? He really hoped he wasn't going insane...

Not wanting to go down, he went back to the bedroom, shivering all over. He climbed back in. Amazingly, Claire had slept through the whole thing. It was like she had been in the land of the dead the whole time. Jim shook his head. In the morning he would search the whole house for this thing. And then bring in some extra protection. If need be, the authorities. He knew better than to tell them the truth, but he would ask someone to watch out for any intruders. He wanted to be safe in his home after all.

Jim turned to the window to have one last look outside. The rain seemed to be easing a bit but he was sure he could see several egg-shaped objects lying on the ground outside...

It only felt like minutes later when Jim woke again. It was just after 3. The rain had started up again, stronger than before. Lightning streaked past the window, thunder rumbling in the distance. With all this sound it would have been easy to hide the alien noises coming from downstairs.

Jim peered out of the window again. There appeared to be more eggs outside now, dark and slimy. Maybe there were just the same and it was his imagination working into overdrive. He needed to put a stop to this alien menace once and for all. The nightmare was only just beginning for the Cardon family though.

In the darkness, through the flashes of lightning, Jim saw the shadow of the creature again. It looked somehow bigger than before – more monstrous. In the back of his mind he was screaming and wanting to take his family away from this terror, but intrigue and suspicion had kicked in. He needed to see what this thing was.

Jim knew it was outside his room now. He could hear it; a gurgling, hissing sound. The screeches followed next. It was then that Claire woke up beside him, with a start. She screamed and hung onto him. "Jim? What the hell is going on! What is that thing outside our room?"

Jim's immediate reaction: "Nothing, honey. Just one of the kids playing pranks. I'll go and sort it out. You go back to sleep."

It amazed him that this actually worked. Maybe it was her tired mind and Claire thought she was still dreaming. In any case, it was doing the trick. Jim sighed and got out of bed again. There was no point going back to sleep now – he was too wired and afraid. He didn't want to admit it but he was. And he hoped he was going to be strong.

The screeches had stopped but the alien shadow still hung on the door, a mass of tentacles and a large bulky body. Jim had seen what it had looked like and it had burned the image deep into his soul. He will never forget how it had risen up; the slimy black body and big humanoid head, with hollow, empty eye sockets and a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Jim shuddered, not wanting to face the horror again. But he had to. He had to tell it to leave them alone. Climbing out of bed, he made sure the rifle was fully loaded and he crept towards the door. The shadow hadn't moved, the tentacle withering and slurping. The low hissing, the creature somehow knowing he was going to open that door.

But Jim didn't open the door. He stood next to it, listening intently. His mouth was dryer than the Sahara when his words came out. "Leave us alone, you son of a bitch. You will not take my family!"

The creature laughed. It actually laughed, the voice so deep and crackled it sent shivers down Jim's back. Then it spoke – the voice was low, empty, like the sound of nails scraping on the walls.

"JIM CORDAN. YOU ARE THE FIRST. THE FIRST OF MANY WHO WILL LEAD MY OFFSPRING INTO A GLORIOUS DARK FUTURE ON YOUR WORLD."

Jim shook his head, not believing any of this. "No! I will not succumb to your horrific alien ways! I want you gone. Leave our world!"

The alien creature laughed again. "FOOLISH HUMAN. WE HAVE BEEN HERE SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME. WE KNOW YOUR PLANET BETTER THAN YOU DO. THE SCARRAN DON'T TAKE KINDLY TO THREATS. GIVE YOURSELF OVER NOW... OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES."

"Never!"

"THEN SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES."

The door to his bedroom burst open, and the creature loomed above him. He let out a small, feeble scream. Jim collapsed to the floor, dropping the gun. It went off, the bullet bouncing around and hitting the creature square in the head. It screeched and crashed to the floor, the tentacles stopped moving.

Jim thought it was over. How wrong he was. He watched, rooted with fear to the spot, as out of the creature's mouth a black slime withered towards him. He could do nothing. He wanted to run but was stuck, unable to move. The slime was crawling up his leg, a sticky thick substance that made his skin crawl. It was moving towards his mouth. He wanted to swipe it away, to shoot it, but it was as if his whole body had become paralyzed.

It entered his mouth. He almost gagged, his back arching backwards and he rose into the air. The slime was working its way into his nose and his eyes turned black. Jim hung there for a moment. There was silence. It was brief and he felt at peace for just a moment... Then the tentacles burst out of his body, out of his chest and back. His back split and he cried out in pain, as his old body broke away. He was now one of the aliens, but with still the memory he had before. And it made him angry.

The thing that was once Jim, roared and turned to his wife lying in the bed. She had woken up at this point and was wide eyed with terror. Her husband who had been there only moments earlier... was no more. She whimpered, holding onto the side of the bed.

The creature sniffed her and paused. It wasn't going to kill her. Not yet. The young must be dealt with first. It turned to go. Claire knew where it was going and she wouldn't let it. She went for the gun, turning it on the creature but it grabbed it with its scaly black hands. It knocked her unconscious with the back end of the gun and headed out of the room.

"CHILDREN," the thing that was once Jim growled. It was managing speech again. It was angry too. This human body it had devoured had murdered its brother. Now it was angry. The Queen would not be happy.

By this time Becky and Adam were both awake. They were in the same room, holding onto each other, petrified. They may be young teenagers, but both of them knew this was real and no horror movie.

Adam was a science geek and the top of his class at school. He had a bottle of acid under his bed for experiments he was working on, and he grabbed this now. Becky grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice coming out frail and weak.

"This acid may put a stop to the creature out there... whatever it is. We can try. We have to."

The door crashed open. Thunder and lightning continued outside, and a new heavy downpour of rain began. The alien creature laughed. "YOUNG ONES. DO NOT BE AFRAID. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY THE QUEEN OF SCARRAN TO BE HER CHILDREN OF THE FUTURE."

"In your dreams!" Adam shouted. He threw the jar of acid at the creature, where it exploded onto the thing's head. It screeched, tentacles moving and fell back to the floor.

Adam grabbed Becky's hand and ran out of the room, towards their parents' bedroom. Claire was still there, sobbing. When she saw the two of them were safe, she continued to sob, but they were happy ones.

"Mum – let's get out of here. Now!"

Claire nodded, and followed her children out and down the stairs, the roars and screeches from the creature echoing from above. They stopped in between the flashes of thunder, hiding in the shadows. It felt like a long time before they reached the front door.

"Becky, get mum to safety."

Claire turned to look at her son, standing there so brave throughout all of this. "Adam, no. You can't fight this thing on your own!"

Adam smiled. "I have to try, mum. For dad's sake." He ran back up the stairs, still smiling but feeling absolutely terrified. He just hoped it didn't show.

Claire turned the handle of the door and opened it. The next flash of lightning revealed rows of sticky eggs outside their house, and two tentacled alien menaces guarding them, with their backs to theirs.

Claire closed the door quickly, resting her back against it and breathing heavily. Now was not the time to be frightened. She had to be strong for her children. She took hold of Becky and led her into the living room. "We'll be safe in here, honey. Let your brother do the rest."

Becky nodded. She was blonde but not dumb, and knew something outside had scared her mum. She was glad she hadn't seen it as well though. It would have made her even more of an emotional wreck than she already was.

"I'll make us some tea."

Becky left her mum on the sofa for a few minutes, not wanting to, but knowing it was the only thing she could do just now. Maybe something stronger would calm her nerves. In the tea she added a drop of whisky, also in hers. She still wasn't old enough to drink but needed it.

As she was by the kitchen window, she looked out into the garden. The rain still wasn't letting up, as it thundered down the window. Then, with the next flash of light, she saw them. The eggs. And they were beginning to hatch. Small black tentacle creatures, with spikes on their tails. They were crawling towards the house.

Darkness. Becky peered forward again. As another flash lit up the kitchen, several of them jumped up to the window, trying to get in. Becky gasped, staggering backwards and dropping the cups of tea. They were trying again, trying to break the glass and get in.

Becky turned and fled, slamming the kitchen door shut behind her. There had to be something she could do to help her brother. He talked about acid... It seemed to slow them down but maybe not kill them. She knew there was plenty of it out in the garage for storage. But she would have to go out the back to get to it. There was a gap between there and the garage where the creatures could get through, if she wasn't quick enough.

She hadn't much time. Believing her mum would be safe for a while longer, Becky went out the back, carrying a large carving knife and the keys with her, just in case. It was only a short walk but it would feel like forever. She waited for the flash of lightning to pass and then she delved into the darkness, running as fast as she could towards the door.

With the keys, she went to open the door. She tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. She started to panic. Another flash of lightning. She saw two of the creatures scuttle towards her from the garden. Becky let out a yelp. It was meant to be a scream, but her mouth had gone dry with fright. She pulled at the handle, forcing the door. She had to get inside.

Becky pushed forward and to her luck, she pushed it open and fell into the garage. She could hear the scuttling and hissing getting closer, but she slammed the door shut, breathing heavily. It was dark in here, and she feared to turn on the lights. But there was a torch on the shelf, and she flicked this on now.

In the gloom, she scanned the garage, full of tools and their family car. Becky was sure the creatures were not in here with her, but she wanted to be sure. Her torch beam fell onto the stacks of acid bottles on the shelf behind the car. Should be easy to get to.

It was then she saw the two alien creatures, scuttling from underneath the car and poised before her, tentacles moving, teeth snapping. She was trapped. Becky had one chance. She got two bottles of acid and threw them at the creatures. One scuttled away but she got one, it screeched and bared its tentacles, which only now she realised with horror contained small teeth.

Becky watched as it exploded before her. So the smaller ones were easy to kill. That was good to know. But the bigger ones would be more difficult. She would get to that soon. There was one more in here to deal with, and she had no idea where it was. This frightened her more, as she could hear it scuttling all over the garage. Her hands were shaking – she needed to steady her nerves.

It felt like a lifetime but it was only a few seconds, when the creature jumped at her from the shadows, teeth snarling. It came so close, but Becky was quicker. She smashed the second bottle of acid into its face and it screeched, exploding all over her. Damn it was in her hair, her face and it stank on her clothes, the black, slimy substance covering her body.

She thought she was safe. But how wrong she was. The black slime was gnawing at her skin, trying to get in. Her body started to shake violently. Becky's head was pulled back violently by an unseen force. She stood like that for a moment, her hands shaking, her eyes firmly closed. She wanted to scream but her mouth was glued shut by the slime.

Then, her eyes snapped open and they were pure black. She burst into pieces, her human body breaking away like a fleshy porcelain doll. The alien creature emerged. Its many tentacles on its black body moved excitedly, ready to hunt for fresh meat. Its shell like back arched, its long neck and oval head glistening black. It's eyes, darker than the body and unblinking, scanned the garage. It's many teeth snapped as it hissed. It needed more. It would get more.

It ran on all fours like a dog, scampering out of the garage and back into the house...

Claire was still on the sofa, to afraid to move. If these were intruders dressed as aliens and had planned to scare her and her family, they'd done a pretty good job. The lightning continued to flash outside, making her feel more nervous. It was during these flashes that she saw the small alien creatures climbing up the living room windows.

They were blackening out the flashes, so no light penetrated inside. The power had gone out a little while ago, and she had wished she had phoned someone earlier. She was almost in darkness. Anything could be out there, waiting to strike. She just wished her daughter or son would return soon, to bring her some hope.

She heard a crash from the kitchen. Claire got up and started to walk slowly towards it. She didn't want to, but it felt better than sitting here and doing nothing. When her eyes became adjusted, she could make the outline of the kitchen. Claire knew every surface and where everything was, so when she heard the clatter she knew it was her pots and pans falling over.

She wished she had a weapon. In the drawer closest to the door, she knew there was a large meat cleaver. She just hoped it would work. Claire stepped into the kitchen. The creatures had covered the windows in here too. She shivered, not sure whether it was fear, the cold, or both. Claire quietly fumbled for the drawer, found it, and produced the meat cleaver. She cut her finger on it and jumped back a little, cursing under her breath. Damn it was sharp.

The creatures hadn't quite covered the whole window (she could make out cracks here and there), and she could make out the mess in the kitchen... Then Claire saw it. The alien creature turned, baring teeth and tentacles, hissing. It stopped though for a second, sniffing her and trying to work out who she was. It moved closer.

Claire gripped the cleaver tighter, moving closer. "D-don't come any closer," she stammered, trying to sound braver than she was. "I mean it..."

The alien snarled and began to approach her. Claire raised the meat cleaver higher. The alien sniffed something else in the air. Something it hadn't sniffed before. Human blood. It recoiled suddenly, falling backwards and crashing to the kitchen floor. Claire looked at her finger. It was bleeding quite a lot. She suddenly realised what it was afraid of.

Claire moved forward, no longer feeling afraid. "I know," she said, through gritted teeth, "I know what you are afraid of."

Claire moved her finger along the meat cleaver, wincing at the pain as it drew more blood and smeared it along the blade. The lightning flashed again and she moved forward, the cleaver coming down on the aliens chest. Before it screamed its last, Claire was sure she heard one word coming out of its mouth: "Mother!"

Upstairs, Adam was having an even more nightmarish time. He thought the alien was dead but it had only been stunned. He had gotten back into the bedroom and the alien had gone. It could be anywhere up here and he needed to be ready for it. He had a feeling a gun wouldn't work against it.

The acid was in the garage – he kept a big supply – but he knew he would be too late. This needed to be dealt with now. In his room he had several lethal syringes full of stuff he didn't fully understand. Maybe one of them would hold some kind of toxin to kill this creature.

He had to try. To save his family. Determined, Adam moved out of the room and down the dark landing. He knew about the power. It just made the place feel even more eerie. He didn't like it. There was something unnatural about the whole situation – it was as if these aliens had planned this attack for some time. Intelligent, carnivorous beings were a lot more dangerous to deal with.

He looked at the attic steps. The hatch was open. Had the alien creature somehow managed to get up there and make itself a home? Adam shuddered at the thought. No... he had to be strong. Show this thing that he was not afraid of it, even though he was absolutely terrified.

There was a stench coming from the attic, almost making Adam wrench. It was something decaying and like cooked flesh. He started to climb the attic steps. He could sense it was up there – did he have some kind of telepathic link that connected him to this alien?

Adam reached the top and peered inside. He had the rifle with him the whole time and it was starting to get bulky and awkward. He knew it was his only line of defence, so losing it now would not be a good idea.

Then he saw it.

The alien creature was in the far corner of the attic. It had grown somewhat in the last few minutes, Adam was sure of it. It sat in the corner, breathing heavily. Its many black tentacles were alive, still moving, with snapping teeth on each one. It looked at Adam, not moving, its unblinking black eyes staring straight into his. The two of them were like that for a good few minutes, although it felt like hours for Adam.

Adam then saw what it was sitting on. It was keeping something warm. He could see them... More eggs. There was one chance... He ran forward, gun pointing out in front of him. The alien creature snarled, almost turning its mouth into a grin. It knew bullets wouldn't kill it.

Adam had other plans. He raised the gun above his head and brought it down on the creatures. It screeched in pain and sliced at Adam's arm, drawing blood. Adam jumped back, cursing at the scratch and blood started to drip down his arm. The alien creature stopped and backed away. Adam looked at his arm. Then at the creature. No... could it really be that simple? Were these creatures scared of human blood?

Adam knew it would hurt but he wondered... He dug a sharp nail into the wound on his arm, making it longer and nastier. He winced at the pain and watched as the blood spilled out, onto the creature. It screamed in pain, backing into the corner and shielding its face.

Maybe the black slime inside it made it strong but its outer black body couldn't take it? Its sense of smell was probably too strong. These were just theories, but now Adam was more fascinated by the creature than scared. He wanted to study their anatomy, their mating, their history... but first he needed to stop these intruders in his home. There would be others he could study after all.

Adam moved closer to the alien, arm held out, and smeared it all over the thing's face and body. It screeched, coughing and gasping, before it became still. Dead. Adam breathed happy. He made his way back down the attic steps. Unknown to him, the eggs were beginning to hatch. One of the creatures had escaped and was now attached to his back.

Claire had been sobbing for a while now. She had finally realised that the creature had once been her daughter – but she couldn't have loved her again like that... could she? The thing had taken over her, and was no more. She had heard a lot of commotion going on upstairs, but had been too afraid to go and investigate. It was up to Adam now.

The smaller aliens hadn't moved from the windows for a good while now. It was as if they were waiting on some kind of signal to attack. This made Claire even more nervous. She still held onto the meat cleaver, her only protection. She wished her son was all right...

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs made her jump and turn around. Adam was coming down and she sighed, almost smiling... until she saw the creature on his back.

"Adam... honey, don't move..."

Adam stopped, looking at his frightened mother. "Mum... what is it? What do you see?"

"On your back... One of the aliens is on your back..."

Adam froze. He moved his hand over his back and felt the slimy, sticky hard back of the creature. He yelled out in surprise as the creatures tentacles wrapped around his hand, arching his arm back. Adam tried to grab it with the other hand, but it wrapped its remaining tentacles around the other arm. Adam toppled over, falling down the stairs.

Claire ran to him, sobbing. "Adam... No! Please. I need you..."

The alien creature on Adam's back had sunk its teeth in and Claire could see black slime oozing out. She would not allow her son to change into one of them! It looked as if he was still alive, but it was hard to tell from this angle. She needed to get closer.

Claire edged nearer, meat cleaver in hand. The alien creature seemed oblivious to her at this moment in time. Her only chance was to grab it off her son's back – and she did this now, without even thinking. It worked, taking it by surprise. It was trying to get out of her grip, moving about violently. Claire held firm, and with the other hand she brought the cleaver down through it, slicing it in two.

She dropped it straight away, not wanting to get any of the black slime onto her. In the gloom she could make out Adam, still breathing. With the creature dead the black slime looked as if it was drying up, but she hoped little had entered his body. Claire brushed a hand through her son's fine hair. He needed to be strong. For her. This nightmare had to end soon.

"Adam..."

Adam turned and smiled weakly. "It's OK, mum. I felt the alien presence but now it is gone. I guess its slime doesn't work if it's dead."

"Can you stand?"

Adam nodded. "I think so. I can't feel anything broken. Just bruised and sore. I guess I was really lucky."

He got awkwardly to his feet and made sure he was OK. Claire hugged him hard, knowing it probably embarrassed him but she didn't care. He was alive and that's all that mattered.

As she lay her head against his chest, Adam's eyes glinted black and he smiled evilly. It wasn't over. It was just beginning.

Claire tried to peer out of the window but it couldn't see anything. She didn't know what time of day it was or what was going on. The power had been out for a long time and for all she knew, a whole invasion could be going on right outside. She knew from seeing lots of science fiction movies that the ideal thing would be to run. But there seemed to be little escape from the house.

Then a thought ran through her mind. The roof. If she and Adam could get up there... maybe they could signal for help. Claire grabbed her son's arm and he flinched just a little... but she didn't seem to notice.

"Adam. – the roof. If we can somehow get up there..."

Adam nodded. "It could be our only means of escape. Who knows how many of those things are out there now?"

Claire smiled and the two of them crept silently back up the stairs towards the attic. The darkness greeted them and the dead body of the alien was still there, along with the half dozen smaller creatures. Maybe without their parents they couldn't survive either. Maybe they were like the human race in that regard.

They were both careful – even Adam who had been taken over but he was trying to fight it. If he could think of the thing these aliens hated the most, it might destroy the entity growing inside him. It was getting stronger though – he could feel its power. No... he had to resist. For his mum's sake.

The window led out onto the roof. Claire just hoped someone would see them up here. It was still dark outside but she had a feeling morning was just around the corner. At first she let her eyes become adjusted to the different light. It looked as if morning was coming. She could see the sunrise.

Then she saw them. Eggs. Hundreds of them, lining the gardens of the neighbourhood and dotted here and there over the streets. Some had already hatched and the tentacle aliens were attacking everyone. Claire could tell straight away that not everyone was going to make it. There were already larger ones stalking the streets.

She turned to Adam, knowing he would be scared, afraid... but he was smiling. Claire realised that the alien entity had been inside him the whole time. He looked down at her, his eyes black, and pointed to the sky.

Claire hadn't seen them before, but now she did how could she have missed them? Alien ships, dark green and spider-like, hovered at different points as far as the eye could see. They were turning slowly, and she did notice some other people up on their roofs too.

Claire looked above them and saw a dark green ship above them. She wanted to run – even jumping off this roof would be better – but she was rooted to the spot. The ship had stopped turning now and a circle appeared out of its underbelly. A green beam of light shot down and the next minute she found herself on board.

It looked as if she was on the bridge but so far it was deserted. She could look out and saw Adam below. He was changing. His body split apart in a mass of tentacles and black, slimy skin. He looked up at the ship.

Claire could tell he was wanting to come on board. She frantically looked around at the controls. One looked like a large touch screen display, with various electronic diagrams on it. One looked very similar to a beam disengagement symbol. She went over to it and swiped her hand down. The two green bars depleted.

There was a chair in the centre of the room – it was large and black, metallic. A large head device was above the chair. Could this be how they controlled the ships? Through mind control? Claire had to try and put a stop to this. It was a big mistake beaming her up to one of these ships.

Claire ran to the chair and sat down. Immediately the straps on its side clamped to her hands and legs, and the head device lowered itself onto her head with a metallic snap. The power she felt... but she couldn't let it go to her head. The doors to the bridge were opening and she could see tentacles appearing. She only had one shot at this.

She closed her eyes, thinking hard, thinking of the thing that would destroy them all. Human blood. Claire's eyes snapped open again, and the ship began to shake around her. From outside, all the other ships were shaking too. The aliens looked up, stopping what they were doing.

It all happened so fast but to Adam it looked like it was in slow motion and it was taking forever. The lead ship shot blue energy out of the left and right side panels and at the top of the ship. It formed a pattern, bouncing from one ship to the next, so they were all covered in blue electricity.

The blue beam of light at the top was firing at the massive mother ship in space. In an instant all of the ships exploded. Adam fell to the roof, the alien presence finally leaving his body. The rest of the aliens screeched and exploded, covering everything in dry slime. Without their queens they were powerless.

Adam awoke a few minutes later, dazed and confused – but he knew the alien inside him had gone. He had lost his family but he was alive and he would continue to live to honour their memory. As he began to rebuild his life, he was unaware that one egg still remained in his basement. One that had been there for a while and one that was about to hatch...

I am Kevin S. Hall, 33 and wannabe full time writer. I live in Haddington, East Lothian in Scotland, UK. I've written my first horror novel called Thirteen: A Collection Of Horror Stories, which you can buy on amazon as a normal edition (just type in Thirteen By Kevin Hall and it should come up), and a Special Edition with bonus novella The Dummy's Assistant. I am currently working on Thirteen 2, which will feature four of my stories - including The Isolation Horror featured here - and some from up and coming horror authors who all want a shot at fame. I have lots of other ideas on the go, including my first proper full length novel called Ravens Edge. After that I plan to do a five book fantasy epic series called The Lost Ages Of Wintermore. I hope you enjoy my stories and feel free to leave a review on the website to let me know what you think. I can't wait to read everyone else's!

## PAINTING

# By

## Dave Scott

We have all been bullied at some point in our lives, some the bully and some the victim. They say show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are. But what about your enemies? People that just don't like you? Torrie was a 17 year old high school student who was constantly bullied, scorned and laughed at, all because she was a little different from everyone else. Because of this, Torrie changed schools a lot. Well, she used to, until Torrie finally found a school that she taught she could fit in to. This was when things took a turn for the worst.

Torrie's nightmares started in the summer of 2013. She was sitting alone at the bank of a river near her home. She wore a blue cotton blouse and a short blue skirt. Her skin was lightly hued, but tanned from the darkness she surrounded herself with. Her long, black hair and green eyes gently caressed her face, giving her an aura of mystery. She sought protection from the raging sun in the shade of an apple tree, its perfumed blossoms modelled in the summer's morning breeze. She took out the sketchpad and pen that rested beside her, placed it on her lap and pressed the trigger of the pen. With sudden interest, she began to draw. She formed the structure of a human female body, then added details - eyes, hair, nose, mouth - and then the clothes. Torrie added the background and finally the accessories. Satisfied, she held her drawing in the air, admiring it. Torrie had drawn herself as a warrior from 16th century Europe, clothed in chainmail armor and carrying a broadsword. The background was that of a moonlit night, the cloudless sky as black as an onyx jewel.

Torrie's mother came to her holding a tray with chocolate brownies and a small, black box. Torrie's mother looked like an older version of her, except for the blond hair. They both had the same slender but shapely body and they both possessed it with grace.

"You know most girls your age see themselves as princesses or queens." Torrie's mother said as she put the tray beside of her on the ground. "Not warriors carrying big, heavy swords."

Torrie laughed, closed the pen and started eating a brownie from the tray. "I know mom." Torrie responded, "But I've never liked any of that mundane stuff. I'm no princess."

"You sound just like your father Torrie." Her mother said, "You remind me so much of him."

"Everyone says I look like you mom." Torrie responded

"You look like me, but you're your father's child alright." Torrie mother said

"You never told me what happened to him." Torrie stated

"Torrie...please, I don't want to go through that again." Her mother said, "You were so young when he died. I just couldn't tell you."

"I'm old enough to know mom, I'm 17."

"I know that Torrie, but can we talk about this later?"

"Ok mom." Torrie sighed. Her voice was melancholy and heavy, as if she was Atlas, holding up the world.

"Before I forget, I got you into an art school Torrie." her mother said, "The Michelangelo Foundation."

Torrie's mother got up and went back inside their home, a typical sub-urban house with a white picket fence.

Torrie ignored the brownies beside her and stared at the sketchpad. She opened it and started to draw. Her hands created what her words couldn't express. She drew a man carrying a young girl on his shoulders, both with smiles and a pleasant aura surrounding them, one of her fondest memories with her father. Torrie stopped drawing and her countenance changed. A tear flowed from her cheek and dropped on the drawing as black clouds took over the sky. The rain came down like a spray of bullets as Torrie cried, filling the river at her feet. She hugged her sketchpad as she ran towards the house.

Torrie stopped at the doorway, soaking wet from head to toe. Her mother handed her a towel to dry her hair. She went into the bathroom, dried her hair and changed her clothes. She went downstairs into the basement, which her dad had converted to an art studio. The studio was a dark room lined with painting, some the father made, and some Torrie made. In the center of the room was a painting easel complete with paint and brushes from Torrie's latest project.

Torrie breathed a sigh of relief. Being in the studio made her feel alive; the room made her feels useful. Her eyes caught sight of a life-size painting her father had done for her when she was little

"I'll make you proud dad, I promise." Torrie said as she sat down on the stool beside the painting easel.

# ####

In August, Torrie started her new art school, The Michelangelo Foundation. At first, she had some difficulty fitting in. But Torrie found a girl that was interested in the supernatural and mythology, just like she was. The girl's name was Thena. She was average height with a slim built and light skin. Her short blond hair was always tied in a bun, drawing more attention to her blue eyes. In her painting class one day, Torrie had done a piece based on the River Styx in Greek mythology. It was a bleak scene, black land on the left and right with a ghostly gray river in the middle. There was a row boat in the distance with a man in a black cloak rowing the boat and holding a lantern with a yellow light dangling from his hand.

When she was done, her classmate crowded around her. Thena was seated beside her and was the first to comment.

"Girl, your painting is great." Thena said, "Michelangelo himself would be asking for your autograph."

Torrie laughed. "It ain't that good Thena."

"Torrie, your painting's sick!" a guy in the back of the crowd exclaimed.

"Dude, her painting's dope!" another guy exclaimed

"Oh, come on. Even a six year old could've done better." Trish retorted. She was a girl who always wore too much makeup, her hair a different color every week. One of the so-called popular girls.

"Stop being a hater Trish." Thena said, "I heard your six year old sister cried when she saw one of your paintings!" The entire class burst into a ripple of laughter.

"Settle down everyone!" Mr. Turner, their painting instructor said, "Get back to your seats!" The students quickly filed back to their seats.

Trish whispered in Torrie's ear, "I'll get you back for this." The day ended and Torrie went home. She logged on to the school's social site, MFSociety.com and saw a post by an anonymous user. All of the drawings and paintings from her sketchpad were edited and uploaded. Torrie scrolled through the comments; "Draw yourself with a better face next time!", "Why don't you just go drown yourself in that river? Were there along with others that weren't so pleasant.

This online assault continued for weeks until one fateful day. Torrie was talking to Thena about her problem. One of Trish's friends overheard and told Trish.

Later that day, Torrie got a note telling her to get her sketchpad at the auditorium after school. When she did, Torrie found Trish waiting for her. They approached each other. Torrie grabbed Trish's extensions and pulled her to the ground. Both girls started to exchange blows until Mr. Turner parted them and took them to the principal's office. The principal – Mr. Alexander – was a tall, light skinned man with black hair and gentle blue eyes. He motioned for Mr. Turner to leave and locked the door. Torrie and Trish sat down at opposite ends of the room.

"Now girls, what seems to be the problem?" Mr. Alexander asked from behind his desk.

Torrie and Trish began to shout, trying to explain.

"Settle down you two." Mr. Alexander said. His voice was gentle, almost fatherly. "You go first Torrie."

"It's always Torrie isn't it? Torrie, Torrie, Torrie!" Trish exclaimed, "Ever since she came here she's been your little pet!"

"You're just jealous because no one likes you!" Torrie retorted

"Girls, it doesn't matter who goes first." Mr. Alexander said, "But since it's such a big deal to you Trish, you can go first."

"We were in class and Torrie just had to paint something that everybody loved, just like always." Trish said; her voice filled with mocking resentment. "I said it was bad and her friend Thena disrespected me. So I stole Torrie's sketchpad that she always keeps with her and posted the pictures online after I messed them up."

"Is that true Torrie?" Mr. Alexander asked

"Yes, that's why I needed my sketchpad back." Torrie stated, "My dad gave it to me."

"May I see it Torrie?" Mr. Alexander asked. Torrie handed him her sketchpad.

Mr. Alexander flipped through the drawings mutilated with charcoal marks, airbrush paint and black jell ink. He closed the sketchpad with a look of disapproval in his gentle eyes.

"Trish, if it was Thena that made the comment about your bad drawings, why not attack her instead of Torrie?" Mr. Alexander asked

"Because Torrie was Little Miss Perfect, she just had to do everything right." Trish responded; her voice mocking Torrie's every existence.

"Ms. Morgan –"

"Trish." she interrupted

"Ms. Morgan, Torrie did nothing to deserve this kind of punishment. Not from you and not from anyone." Mr. Alexander stated, "And this is the third time I've spoken to you about bullying the other students, I have given you too many chances to change that attitude of yours. I have gotten tired of your misbehavior now."

"What are you gonna do to me, put me in detention?" Trish asked in her 'I don't care' voice.

"No, Ms. Morgan, I cannot have you further damaging the reputation of my institution." Mr. Alexander said. He took out a form from the drawer on his desk and began to write on it. He gave it to Trish.

"What's this supposed to be?" Trish asked

"Your expulsion letter." Mr. Alexander said, "Starting now, you are no longer a student of The Michelangelo Foundation. I will be calling your parents soon."

"Whatever! I hated this stupid school anyway!" Trish said as she left the room. Her voice was strong, but her eyes showed just how much she was hurt.

"Are you ok Torrie?" Mr. Alexander asked

"It's just that, ever since my dad died, I've felt like I'm always alone." Torrie replied; her eyes watery.

"Would you like me to drive you home?" Mr. Alexander asked, "You look a bit shaken up."

"I'm ok, really." Torrie said, "My mother should be home now."

"Did you tell her about what Trish was doing to you?"

"No, I didn't want to bother her." Torrie said

"Would it be ok if I spoke to her?" Mr. Alexander asked, "To help you explain?"

"Thank you, but I think you're being too nice to me." Torrie said

"I already lost two other students because of Trish's attitude, one left the school and the other killed herself." Mr. Alexander said, "I don't want any of that to happen to you."

Torrie wiped her eyes as Mr. Alexander gave her sketchpad back. She looked at her drawings and cried enough to fill the River Styx.

Mr. Alexander got up put his hand around Torrie. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

They left the school and a few minutes later the car pulled up Torrie's driveway.

Torrie got out of the car and opened her door. "Mom, I'm home."

Her mother was sitting in the living room reading. "Welcome home honey. You're home early."

"My principal drove me home." Torrie said. Her voice filled her room with sadness.

"What's the matter Torrie?"

"Something happened at school today." Torrie said, "I got into a fight."

"You, in a fight?" Torrie's mother asked

Mr. Alexander came out of the car and into the house. "Good evening ma'am."

Torrie's mother look at Mr. Alexander closely. She put up the book and got up. She stood beside Torrie.

"D-David" Torrie's mom said, "No, it couldn't be. David is dead."

"Hello Catherine." Mr. Alexander said

"You two know each other?" Torrie asked

"I haven't seen him in 12 years, I thought he was dead." Catherine stated

"12 years? Didn't dad die 12 years ago?" Torrie asked

David took out a small photograph out of his top pocket. A little girl was sitting on his lap, laughing. She showed the picture to Torrie.

"That's me, I remember this." Torrie said, "I was five."

"I've kept it all these years Torrie." David said, "I've missed you so much. You've grown into a beautiful young woman."

Torrie hugged him tightly, crying. "I missed you too, dad."

A tear rolled down Catherine's cheek. "Now Torrie won't feel alone anymore." She said to herself.

Dave Scott's unshakable love of fantasy and supernatural fiction inspired him to write his debut novel, The Darkblade Prophecy, when he graduated from high school at seventeen. Dave lives with his family in Jamaica where he continues to work on the Windows to the Soul trilogy

## Sneaky Creep

# By

## Chloe Hammond

I was sat out in the garden feeling remarkably pissed off considering it was such a beautiful day. It was understandable though. This was supposed to be a girl's only holiday to recover from the end of our marriages. Granted when we booked the cottage last autumn we were still married, and it was booked for four people, but that didn't mean four people had to come. When Dana had told me she was bringing her new man, Matt, I hadn't been pleased. I was emotionally battered and bruised and the last thing I needed was my two week escape to the sunny Loire Valley polluted by love's young dream. I mean, really, they were sickening, giggling at their little in jokes, and gazing into each other's eyes as they fed each other little delicacies at the dinner table, and the breakfast table, and the lunch table.

They said they were bringing nerdy Neil so that Matt would have company while Dana and I went off to do our own thing. Oh yeah right. I'd have to surgically separate those two at the lips first. Then last night, when somewhat in his cups, Neil had revealed that as far as he was concerned, we were here as two couples. As he tried to corner me in the kitchen and slide his wine sodden tongue down my throat, my knee put an end to that misconception. Then a huge row broke out. Apparently I'm being completely unreasonable and trying to ruin everyone else's holiday by making a huge fuss about a hopeful kiss.

Matt looked at me very earnestly and told me that he is worried about me, that I'm becoming reclusive, and he only dragged poor Neil along to keep me company, so I wouldn't feel left out, and make Dana feel guilty for spending time with him. He said that I have unreasonable expectations of my friends, and I shouldn't expect them to be miserable just because I am. He said he was trying to help me, by taking the pressure off our friendship before I ruined it permanently.

Now bear in mind this man has only been dating my best friend for three months, and he has no idea the state Dana was in before he came along, Mr Sincere in his shining Lexus. Before he starts psychoanalysing me he wants to have a little thought about being Mr Rebound. I know the mess Dana was in over Rob cheating on her, I know that level of pain doesn't disappear just because someone new comes along.

She's in denial, and he can be as sanctimonious as he likes, I know she'll dump him sooner or later. Sooner I hope. And as for his slimy friend, a hopeful kiss does not involve grabbing a handful of breast as far as I'm concerned, and once his knackers are that close to me without my consent they are fair game.

So, no one's speaking to me this morning. I may have been a little too honest for everyone's taste, I'll admit. Wine does that to me, acts like a truth serum, so I tell people things they don't need to know. Breakfast was beyond frosty, so I went outside with my coffee and a good book in the hope of the fresh air shifting my hangover. I dragged a cushioned teak sun lounger to the back of the garden behind the little orchard. I hoped the trees would act as a screen between me from the filthy looks coming from the house.

As I got myself settled, curved on my side with my towel serving as a pillow, the neighbours little tabby cat trotted over chirruping and leapt up beside me. She settled into the curve my legs made, purring happily as I rubbed her ears. So at least I still had one friend. I don't know when I dropped off, but the warmth of the morning sun, gentled by the breeze that danced and tickled between the trees and over my bare skin, soothed me, and soon Tabby and I were fast asleep curled up together.

I became aware of a dark shape blotting out the sun which had been shining on my eyelids. I thought it was Dana come to make peace at first, and decided to ignore her. My head felt swimmy and stuffed with cotton wool, the thought of opening my eyes and having a deep and meaningful was beyond me. But there was something wrong with the smell, Dana smells of sunshine and honey and melon, not dank caves and musty corners. And the breathing was wrong too. Dana doesn't breathe through her mouth like a child concentrating on doing something cruel in secret.

I struggled to open my eyes and it felt like they were glued closed, I managed to force them open a tiny crack and was able to see the outline of a figure bent over me. It definitely wasn't Dana, and it wasn't Neil or Matt either. My brain was trying to scream to my body, I should have been flooding with adrenaline, my heart pounding, so I could leap to my feet and run for my life. I realised Tabby was hissing and spitting in an arch of fury and terror by my feet.

The figure turned his attention away from watching my face, and looked towards Tabby. The instant he looked away from me I was able to force my eyes open wider so I could see a shambolic figure bent over me. His skin was the colour and texture of Stilton cheese, and he had grey crusty warts caking his nose, cheeks and chin. His mouth hung slightly open, and his liverish tongue poked at the spittle crusted corners of his cracked bluish lips. He was wheezing directly into my face, and his breathe was icy and smelt like the inside of a crypt.

He made a sudden snatch at Tabby with nightmarishly long gnarled fingers. They seemed to have an extra bulbous knuckle each, and were tipped with long yellowed scythes. Tabs flattened herself, leapt off the lounger and streaked off through the orchard. He chuckled like the rustling of dry leaves and turned his empty eyes back up to my face. They were the colour of curdled milk, and utterly soulless. 'I'll have her later.' He muttered, as much to himself as to me.

He saw I was looking at him and chuckled again, blasting me with his fetid breath. He turned his head to and fro as he looked at me, like a crow deciding which angle would be preferable for pecking out a lamb's eye. Then he slowly shimmed his shoulders, cupping his hideous hands in front of his crotch as he did, so his curving nails clicked together like gruesome maracas.

'So, my pretty, you're awake are you?' He stepped back a bit so I could see more of his twisted body. He was stooped, and scrawny, but I didn't for one second think that made him vulnerable or weak. He oozed evil from every pore, and his delight in others agony washed off him in waves. I knew he was in my head controlling me, so I couldn't scream or run, and I could feel his crusty nails flicking through my memories as if they were files in a filing cabinet. Every now and again a memory of my unhappiness or humiliation would particularly please him, and he'd spend longer on that one breathing in as much of my pain as he could.

'Go on my dear, fight me, it feels soooo good' he crooned, giving another creepy shimmy, so his nails rattled in front of my face again. As he spoke I saw his teeth peeping over his lip, they were short and sharp, like the blade on a hacksaw. I stopped my internal struggle. I couldn't resist him, but if my attempts to resist gave him pleasure then I could at least refuse him that delicacy.

I don't know if it was the influence he was exerting over me, pining me in place, and riffling through my thoughts, but I didn't feel terrified like I should have, instead I felt a low, simmering rage. I found myself almost welcoming the fight. I had had vivid nightmares all my life and I had learned how to fight the horrors in my dreams, by pretending to comply, and then attacking when they think they have you beaten. The secret is to not care about surviving, only about beating the beast.

I felt myself split inside, the furious, fierce core of me, curling around my decision to destroy this monster through whatever means necessary, while I fed him fear and compliance. His hollow eyes crinkled in delight as he felt my submission.

'Don't expect any help, my lovely', he chortled, 'I am ancient, and I am immense, and I can control your friends as easily as I can control you. They can stand at the window and watch what I do, but they cannot move, and they cannot scream, not out loud. But inside, oh, inside, I can hear them in there, and I can taste them, and it tastes so good.' He smacked his rubbery lips in delight.

His claw reached out and traced a line down my cheek, down my neck, down to my breast, until his nails were holding my nipple tight, twisting it and turning it. In my head I writhed and sobbed and deferred to him, while at my core the pain stoked my ire. He cackled and hopped in pleasure, then ran his fingers down my stomach, down my thigh, up under my skirt and into my knickers. He made no attempt at gentleness, and scratched and tore at the velvet flesh. His other hand scrabbled at the buttons on the front of his mud coloured trousers, and he tenderly brought forth his wizened cock, it sat between his thumb and index finger like a desiccated maggot.

I filled my thoughts with terror and repulsion at the sight of it, whimpering and begging to be released, while in my depths my essence roared with laughter at his shrunken manhood. He rubbed his little dick, faster and faster, dry as tinder, trying to start his fire. His other hand scrabbled and tore at me, snagging the tender bud, and scratching the delicate lips. Then he reached into my thoughts and found the memories of my love, and played them back, not just for himself this time, but for me too, so I felt my body throb and swell despite myself as the echoes of arousal flowed through me.

As he felt my body betray me in its flowering he danced a little jig of glee, and waved his stiffening member in my face. Rubbing madly, determined to keep it primed he climbed between my knees, pushing my legs apart and yanking at my knickers. I knew what he meant to do, and I knew I couldn't resist, so I turned his own strength against him. I turned the trickle into a torrent and opened the floodgates of every erotic experience I'd ever had, I washed every orgasm I'd ever had into him at once. He juddered and shook, and a feeble strand of thin slime laced over my thigh. I hid my jubilation from him and cried and simpered beneath him.

He tugged and yanked at himself some more, face twisted in frustration, but quickly gave up, and tucked himself away again. I made sure that when he looked back at my face my eyes were closed, tears seeping out beneath the lids, letting him believe I had not witnessed his shame, had not gained strength from it.

'It's been a long time', he snickered as he climbed back out from between my legs. 'Not a problem though, tee hee hee. I'll just get one of those nice boys from the house to help me.' Despite myself my eyes flew open. 'Oh yes, lovey, I'll just latch myself onto his neck and I'll be able to feel everything he can. Be better like that anyway. Young man like that, bet he can last for hours.' He looked at me closely as he told me his plans. I made sure I just carried on showing the same level of wretched misery as if unaffected by who he used to do what, allowing him to savour my dejection.

My eye was caught by movement over his shoulder, and he turned to watch Matt stagger towards us like an automaton. I will never know if he deliberately chose Matt to cause as much heartache as possible, or if it was just a vicious coincidence, but as Matt approached me I could see his eyes screaming in his slack face. I held his gaze for a moment and tried to convey my blessing, to let him know I would not blame him for whatever this monster used his body for, to tell him to do whatever he needed to do to keep him and Dana safe.

'Hello kind sir, and welcome to our little gathering. We are in need of your assistance.' The creature shook another hideous shimmy, one shoulder dropping, then the other, nails clacking. Matt blinked slowly and stumbled to a stop before us. The goblin pranced and jittered around us clapping his claws in glee.

I saw a look of horror spread over Matt's face as he felt the monster invade his memories. I saw the horror replaced with despair as it found the memories it wanted, and the arousal spread through Matt's face lips plumping, cheeks flushing, I saw his nipples enlarge and his jeans tent. I saw the tendons stand out in his arms as he tried to resist having his hands forced to open his fly. I looked resolutely at his face then, holding his gaze, reassuring him as best I could.

I felt the monster's thoughts prod at me again, find only soggy misery and acceptance of my fate, and then return to this new exciting toy he had found. He jiggled and chortled and danced a dance of repulsive joy. He walked around the front of Matt and poked at his rearing cock, face twisted in envy. In that second as he teased and tortured himself as much as Matt I felt his attention leave me, complacent in breaking me, he was concentrating on feeding completely on Matt.

In the second his attention switched. I reached under my lounger and grabbed the coffee mug I'd tucked away there hours earlier. I jumped to my feet pushing the teaspoon that had been in my mug between my middle fingers so the concave head was cupped in my palm, and the handle poked out between my fingers, as I curled my hand into a fist.

My other fist clutched the handle of the mug as I smashed it against the top of the wooden lounger so it smashed into savage shards. I spun towards the creature slashing and gouging, aiming for his throat and eyes, doing as much damage as I could as quickly as I could. He shrieked, and turned on me, curdled eyes glowing redly furious like burning coals. As his attention shifted to me Matt was released, he punched the fiend between the shoulder blades, and kicked his legs out from under him. I forgotten Matt was a kick boxer. He stamped on the monster's neck, trapping him on the ground. I fell on it slashing and hacking, fury powering me on, overwhelming it's enfeebled attempts to infiltrate my mind again.

'That will do. I'll take it from here.' A cold female voice said. I spun round and gaped at the towering female that stood over us. She was as imposing as a statue, frozen face turned towards me. Her hair and eyes were black as a raven's wing, her skin as white and smooth as chalk. 'He slipped his leash. I'll take him now.'

'Who, what...' I blinked at her, unable to reconcile her calm authority with the brutal fight for our lives Matt and I had been battling only moments earlier.

'My name is Amunet . This wretched creature is Ammon. We are the oldest vampires.' Her revelation did not surprise me, this monster was not of the world I had known up to this point.

'No one knows we still exist. We live on the fringes of life, hiding from the jealous seeking of others. Ammon has corrupted himself by feeding on other vampires too often. He is addicted to their memories, feeding on them right back to their human memories, collecting all their knowledge, feeling all of their hopes, fears and heartbreaks. At the same time he has poisoned himself, like any addict will.

'He was my love once. Majestic and beautiful, but he ignored the warnings and kept drinking, kept killing our kin, unable to resist. Now he is a ruin, a wreckage, nothing more than a sneaky creep. All that was regal before has been corrupted, until he is this snivelling wretch, humping like dog at a human's leg'. Her voice dripped contempt.

'He holds so much knowledge, he would be irresistible to others, one sip, and they could know so much, but his mind is coddled, and all that knowledge is beyond him'. As she snarled her hatred of what Ammon had become Amunet's face remained serene and smooth, only her tone gave away her disgust.

I looked at her, bewildered by this out pouring of information, distrustful of what her openness meant.

'It must be hard, not being able to put him out of his misery.' I decided to try understanding, maybe she wouldn't kill us all if I offered her sympathy. She turned her ancient gaze upon me, and saw right through me. The slightest smile touched her scarlet lips.

'I could kill him in an instant', she said calmly. 'But I have loved him for millennia. When I look at him like this I am repulsed, but I drag him behind me so I cannot see him, and I remember him as he was.' She looked down at her snivelling lover, and then back up at me. 'We seek a healer, a vampire who can make him whole again when he feeds on her, and then he shall be whole again, and his mind will be restored to him, and the knowledge of all the ancients will be his. We shall rise then, and rule the world together, my love and I.'

'Now I have a choice', she said her far away gaze focusing back on me, making my heart stop cold. 'I can kill you, or wipe your minds'. She tilted her head, looking through me again as she calculated something beyond my imagining. 'No', she sighed, killing you would be too risky, there is a pride of vampires not far from here, and in if they got wind of vampire slayings they may investigate further. I cannot take the risk of discovery while Ammon is weakened. I'll just have to wipe your memories.'

She smiled a final sharp toothed smile at me, then wiped her hand over my face. I felt my knees weaken and sag, and my mind soften and swirl, and I slept.

My name is Chloe Hammond. I am thirty nine. I'm a shy, introverted reader, who decided to finally write a book. As a much more confident and clear sighted child I always knew I would write. English was my favourite subject throughout school despite my dreadful spelling. I was lucky enough to have a spectacular English teacher who believed in me and encouraged my writing. At university I discovered Creative Writing was a degree subject! Why didn't I know that sooner? However I really wanted to continue with the Behavioural Sciences course I was already on too. So I pestered people until they finally let me do both. That was my first lesson in the benefits of being that little bit more stubborn and determined than everyone else.

I was diagnosed with anxiety last year after a very difficult year in my roles as a support worker and also foster career. I was having real difficulty sleeping, and felt disconnected from myself. I started writing in the extra time I had from not sleeping. It made me feel better to use the time constructively, rather than worrying about not sleeping

## Character

# By

## Tommy L Lohman

### high as hype

its time to party so we all partake

like I rhyme hardly lets get scarfaced

good company good fun – parlay

get crazy get drunk and Bob Marley

and yes I was class clown.. our generations Chris Farley

but before you rebuttal know that you are always tarde

and I will forever be your mission, looking for "Charlie

"

keeping you impressed and staying loud like a Harley

ok tricking last night to today you will be treated

and talking mad shit just to hear myself repeat it

but either way lets Jackson this and "Beat It"

here I am not to be defeated

spitting for the lyrical fears who need it

and all my few followers who just enjoy to read it

telling about the old days and some street shit

known as 12/25 because I always kept the tree lit

and a handshake with cash is how I was usually greeted

your choice but more often than not we settle with a speed hit

drowning out the world and only listening to my body demanding to feed it

I couldn't help it. young, noble and a free kid

others thinking back like yep! same shit we did

and why my name now leaves a convo heated

but rumor to truth I stay concreted

whoever whenever I got it if you believe it

just know my future ahead as my past not to retrieve it

so the foundation is set to leave it

and good karma and faith.. a good life, you'll receive it

so I'm out 'til the next post; so follow as I will lead BIG!

### Do Unto Others

what is the service that we provide/ how do we bring others to reunite/ who are those that you

hold and keep tight/ when do the questions ever reach light/too many of the bullshit unknowns/

all doesn't matter as along as love grows/ my mind and my rhymes i just dispose/ something like

faith isn't seen but glows/the satanic ways of life is flirtation/ the love of God is the inspiration/

take the path of should without hesitation/ and tell others to keep to themselves..

masturbation/make your own luck/ you be the one to line your each and every duck/ believe the

ways of life will try to buck/ but grab the reigns and stay free of the muck/the time has never

been greater/ be a friend and ignore the hater/ for its not us to be the dictator/ as we leave it up to

the almighty creator/living the good life isn't sad/ karma is the way of good and bad/ and religion

isn't the fad/ although, let's just say Heaven is thee 'pad'/

so as you keep strong, stay gold/ for as you move along.. clay mold/ let the spirit prolong and

take your soul/ together we're not wrong but made whole/

### Dive In

no more than four seasons of winter

and no shortage of four turtles to this splinter

just cue it up and make that call

done suited up and can't wait to ball

know when it's me.. i dribble trouble

but it's always a guarantee.. triple double

what you want and where you at

I am clean it up like I'm fourth at bat

and that's no talk

it's what a gangster stalk

i got you wanting to harp 'n scream

like once see me Carpe Diem

but this is no Robin Williams

let's say more like LeBron Millions

moving it faster than King Kong does buildings

you only ping and pong

as your way of relating is singing along

still playing table tennis

entrepreneur here with a stable business

i make the comedians laugh

just as well as the fireman' coming back

when the coach calls.. just run the play

and you know I got balls.. I do this every day

it doesn't have me rich boo

but got me allowing to call you bitch too

damn i make the mimes smile

spend my dimes wild

if you want the street curse

then you gotta get past feet first

### Night Night

i hear go go f'n get 'em

no fear i flow flow spittin' venom

ready now - there is no manana

heavy pow - tare into you like a piñata

because you're wishing on miracle hope

and I'm fishing with that lyrical dope

listen up while i teach 'n show harvest

missing what you speak 'cuz it's more garbage

your discount bologna isn't even worth half the price

it's easy you dismount phony and sorry but breathing hurt as I sacrifice

fire back, and I'll give you the 'going postal' treat

admire attack, for your cold will be outshined by my coastal heat

as I'm the trend setter.. so let me set

unless you think you can do better.. place thee bet

watch it ~ you know my poetry is like mixed martial arts

gotcha ~ your whole aura is a junkyard as I've picked partial parts

gather your flaws and miscues - build my temple

it won't matter your mommas calls 'n tissues - this kill was too simple

and the way I'm treating you boy. they need to call CPS

like always I'm defeating your joy. breathe, re'e'cess

no life. you're gone. choke hold. your lights dim.. sleeper

good fight. I won. your's a broke soul. my rights as the Grim Reeper

### Stay Strong

it's a dark night awaiting

the bright day

oddly enough no fear debating

eagerly this way

consequences surely to be inflicted

for choices made

behavior once good, now restricted

why're they afraid

the path - soon have agreed

yet must respect

take me away; God speed

nothing to regret

lessons learned as teachings taught

all over again

thinking invincibility ~ couldn't been caught

losing what givin'

hafta remain controled

and although in a bind

heart of gold

### stuff that matters

living life to the fullest

is to those that have kept it the coolest

we all have the ability to stay on hi

and it doesn't even consist of having to try

be who you are; there's no rehearsin'

everyone wants the sober pure original person

my dedication is the new addiction

I'm ready and patient with no restrictions

faith is in my heart and karma through my decisions

therefore, I can not depart with certain precisions

born a sinner and maturing into a saint

resurrect and surrender before you forever faint

because the words I put across are inhumane

and if you are not down with poetry than the inner you is lame

this is about starting with the mirror

don't continue to stare

or you may get lost within the glare

stuff isn't equal but considered fair

so traveling through time

is the unraveling's of a rhyme

you have to have known to talk

you must now be grown to handle fault

leave myself the ability to map it to size

so like letters I'll do my life and CAPITALIZE

doors wide open, never closed

blessed are those hopin, clever grows

the last place you look

is the fast pace to The Book

that's the truth about our Savior

which will lead you into your first brave year

with many more to come

and then no doubt where going and no matter where from

the soul lost and filled with hunger

your body and mind is now the lightning to your thunder

so stay positive and remain strong

and even a lost will be a gain along

but you are gambling exemption

if you don't first and for most put family in redemption

### Make Way

I'm quicker than the fastest

you slower than molasses

so nasty it's garbage - let's trash this

don't bother covering up 'cuz ima unmask this

please hear me out for none other has this

young pup -watch it- me 'n my dogs are English Mastiffs

underestimate me and I will Clay, Cassius

yea yeah that's Ali - challenge and I will make contacts out of your glasses

I'm lit like a box of matches

you're as good as a free throw Shaq miss

you do cart-wheels to my backflips

can't measure up ~ no balls, no spine ~ call you back-less

and the shit I shit people swore I'm taking laxatives

take the advice of really thinking before suffering consequences of your actions

'cuz I'll hit you where it hurts and I am not talking taxes

going through the food chain and I'm hungrier than fat kids

and i spit experience while you game planning tactics

because if you really knew what you bullshit. you would't have to practice

but believe you are only a rose; thorn bush to this cactus

sorry for the harsh reality check but that's just what a fact is

fools still wanna talk/ compare Eminem like that's a B Rabbit dis

geese ! yea, thanks for the new material and Whack Shits

prepare for the blood you're spilling.. going to take more than napkins

whatever - your team isn't about shit as I'm coming for your Captains

### Preach On...

I wish I could plead the fifth

but my saliva got too much spit

there's something always on my mind

just like something's always up your girls behind

whatever it is - I got something to siz'say

and whatever you ask - always know; Im disobey

don't do to well with guidelines

like the fifth and respect for silence

because those that keep quite

are on that bullshit verbal diet

while me and my peeps are putting out books

stay shut up'd lol and consider us as crooks

as I continue to recite over your library noise

your type anyway - complaining' bitchin' crybaby voice

so, there's no need to question what I'm thinking

'cuz I'll tell you - face to face - like I've been drinking

really though. too intelligent not to speak

Warning ~ if not spittin' still.. watch for my gleek

you will Hear it one way or another

whether I'm an enemy or your closest brother

being Heard isn't overbearing and loud

it is for the outsiders to realize and know you are about

words not being spoke - thoughts in your head

just as good as a blank canvas and/ or body language misread

talk out of line and when givin' the chance

be a mute with a blank stare reminds me of those who "can'ts"

so, as you should only be pleading the fifth when in court

outside of that. know that I am MVP of this lyrical sport

### Word

it is the pens turn, so let your fingers rest

mind speaking as ears burn, my notebook is my nest

although I write it is merely to entertain

myself I suppose or any with similar withdrawal pain

such as carpal tunnel or writers block

how to write; mismatch like wifes sock

to write or not to.. take the time

Hafta ! if wanna keep up - like the daily grind

poets will and desire are never at its potential

for I want what is only in my head, yet soon paper, as my credential

we take on a much more demanding role

tired, what? more pages commanding soul

pour your heart and deliver from within

you not A part.. step back and accept what's givin'

not many have the gift

try 'n grind.. must clutch before you shift

allow the picture to develop as you tell its story

because the canvas remains blank until you bring its glory

stay gold and keep peace

for if you challenge I will cannibal my feast

### Open Minds = Better World

Eagerly been awaiting my next session/ staring at my notebook. I got the first confession/ my ink

and paper are having postpartum depression/ going without like a recession/ but it's due to my

lack of aggression/ so, my skills and love for this poetry; I will address 'em/

You see ! I can attack like the swine flu/ leaving fools lost - Amber Alert couldn't find you/ yes,

the worst can always happen, writers block.. gotta grind through/ I shit talk to talk shit and it

helps to design new/ thoughts deploy and accurately speak on a conservatives minds view/ 'n if

there's any better ~ I improve and then times two/

Remaining tough and talking like I'm poetry communities mayor/ representing all lands. Oregon

Ducks to Florida's Gator/ staying me and keeping cooler than the coolant in your radiator/ don't

fade from much and will challenge any artist, writer, creator/ soak it all up, spread the love, shut

the journal and savor/ competition is a mortuary - I powerhouse like I'm The Undertaker/

Know that I'm a millionaire in my own 'write', you can't afford 'em/ before you get lost - next step is to abort then/ may lose you from each word to how I sort them/ making sure my efforts

are it its best ~ that's most important/ I Dream Team my lyrics from Bird to Jordan/ no matter the

time of day or sport man/

And the nonsense that I'm spitting' - you wanna taste it/ can't read what needs reading. eyes may

need Lasik/ screw scared and intimidation.. Bully UP and get a face lift/ because I'm old school;

take you back and give you the basics/ connecting the dots ............. 'n you still can't trace kid/

and me not being picked up is fucking talent wasted/

I love, love giving you all kinds of feedback/ it's what gets you and the next to read that/ punching this form of art out like a speed bag/ & if you talking back -Negatively- don't bother,

keep that/ Be YOU, start living 'n stay away from bad apples and cheap crap/ run in my herd.

Alpha Male of the food chain. I SEE- ATTACK/

### Daydreamer

thoughts ponder wide awake with a blank stare

what genre you wanna take, I don't care

just get me there - all the way and in one piece

run with no fear; dis or don't obey lol ready to defeat defeats

space to outer.. lost I suppose; no worry all the while

face no coward.. thinking grows as I smirk a smile

feeling numb ~ points are pointless and popularity non-existent

rule. what thumb? together no mess and living more than a peasant

crawling from my skin- leaking out of my head- and pouring from my mouth

never to go back again- moving forward with cred.- 'n direction opposite of south

ashtrays to jawbreakers coming soon. purchase and read up

Hoo-rays to non-fakers. talking more this June. love teaching free stuff

snap back to reality; bullshit all is to concern ~ sideline because time is now

all shits a possibility; life lessons are how we learn.. what are you about !

### x. sick-nasty

***

### where's the comp

only losers prepare to lose; who wants to battle

so start with the pen if you choose; now, whose cage am I about to rattle

any and all - none I refuse; so let's joust.. I'm ready and saddled

so please.. someone.. go ahead and amuse; running straight, ima herd of cattle

my streak I cruise; because no matter the distance - I paddle

a winner prepared to do dues; chin up and ready.. C'mon or feel free to tattle

otherwise you in the past like old news and I'm ahead on my positive travel

stepping to the mic

is as strong as your hike

can your journey meet your visions

does your worry affect your decisions

in your life of the daily grind

is your knife as sharp as your mind

because in most depravation

is through their lack of preparation

see sky's the limit when you're as high as me

out shinning the timid at all times I meet

you brush your shoulders; while I dust my sleeves

I awake you like Folgers; and will handle anyone like pet peeves

my pen is mightier than the sword

and those whom fight here losing is my reward

so, I continue to push and challenge

for them calves to have admiration for the stallion

### Free Spirit

leaving you smile with each rhyme

it's been a while but now is time

so try and keep up as I carry you along

and if can't - dream tough but never wrong

and no need to envy, as you could do as well

because everyone wants to lend thee and has a story to tell

remember it's not so much in your head; as it is your heart

live and be free as I've said, that's how you start

be EZ

everyone wants to tweet

like how and what I do is worth your treat

let me be as I wanna

just admire the once upon a stunner

and this is but all the fairy tale

the ones wanting to know; it's not scary to prevail

for I'll keep you amongst my side

show you the ways without having to hide

so be patient and stay true

for the only self-able to change; is you

### Wrist Deep

twelve stitches is hells wishes

how do you know when it's been enough

and realize it's not about how good, but how tough

when you come to know that life just isn't what it may seem

& now wanting to go on no more isn't the nightmare, but the dream

as time goes by.. more and more - it's about developing hate

when all that's really going on is the adventure of looking to escape

the journey continues and do your best to cope

for as of now the importance is as follows... with family, prayer, and hope

because you're not alone and we will remain by your side

do not frown upon the tears; for it is only love that I've cried

so, as I'm intrigued and anticipating all there is to know

it's on us to become closer and understand it's deeper than just making the faith grow

believe this.. as death has not a single fan

in the times of good and bad - never hesitate to grab hold of my hand

the time has come

starting all over and yet again

it is to maintain this life, but not as a friend

I was the demon who possessed all the powers

and now I'm counting down as these were my last hours

and it's always been up to me to bring upon the "noise"

but it's now as if my family members are as distant as my boys

it is extremely hard to put things into perspective

when I was the one that first neglected

who was it that showed the way

it was I, now come along and do as I say

playing it cool when hugs are the sound

but keeping it dumb when drugs came around

now look at what it has caused

and I deliberately hold my breath, just to hear the pause

knowing it should have been me to take the fall

and you know what I'm talking about - everyone but I saw

it has been a long time coming before I received the slap in the face

and the hunger and hurt I put us through, I now taste

we cannot go on living weak

and no one wants to, but I must stand and speak

but how ~ not a soul is that brave

to go up against the loved ones. looking to be saved

when you know it's your tragedy

it's not visible but so sad to see

when all but one is lost

and only refraining because I know the pain it will cost

so, to look back upon many years

brings hate amongst one-self and to conceal the endless amounts of tears

looking for the answer for I know this isn't right

but there comes a time when all must face the light

### Character

so while I work and think no matter the perk, I don't blink

doing nice things and being a better man Mr. Christ rings and lets me understand

what we do for karma and all that you tithe the heart overtakes, no alarma, for no believer left behind

we are who walk amongst and lead the path because I'm past the punks and feed my wrath

making up... not so much taking enough... fifth gear as I clutch

time is near and are we ready for I wanna be anywhere where love is heavy

sorry but can't help if get personal friends tell and it doesn't matter how versatile

life becomes and or treats us I know who I am and I talk to Jesus

so always having a strong backbone staying cool, free of wrong, and if have to ~ will attack alone

remain being the example and live with no worries for surviving is only a sample of being saved and all other flurries

Heaven is close and God shines within me day one through all seven - I stay doing a weeks at a time.. no pretending

as we surround ourselves with other good and always down to keep us in- that should

what we have done; past and future boring or fun; the next task. I'm the shooter

however to make another smile and keep chin hi for good deeds don't pile - dig deep. then bye

not to be known of my acts.. it's a secret do it for all, that's that.. C'mon if you can preach it

why yes, we practice the known because we are activists ~ reaching out is how we condone

bad habits; breaking that shit any.. grab kids, create a relationship

of the best to come - yet undiscovered not ignorant; although there's some - check. done this brother'd

make the impression at all times we encounter turn the aggression into rhymes of a rounder

been there. done that.. who I am today take a dare or run back.. you also can this way

being saved and being proud just how brave and how loud

be your own leader as we know our very potential show the teacher; my turn! earn what's yours ~ merry suspensful

### rip it

oh yea - I'm in the mood to write

like a fatty sees food; gone - first sight

the overwhelming expression of freedom

so there's no need to question when read 'em

the chance to talk without the critics

ability to enhance what you chalk as the sound tick ticks

my mind fills with aspirations and dreams

my blank canvas stills... desperations and screams

~ allow me to ramble ~ so here's a sample ~ of an example ~ of the shit I can trample

~ watch it - I'm a handful ~ too hard to handle ~ step back, I'm a damn mule

~ don't sit -while I spit- I stand cruel ~and if you gasped; can't keep up.. I fan fuel

~ the sentence -subject, predicate, ver, noun- I dismantle ~ I wax any wick to light the

candle ~ eat you up like I'm cannibal ~ talking back is a gamble ~ don't give me shit, I

demand bull ~ I'll leave your underpants a damp pool ~ try me. your forehead I'll stamp

fool ~ light your as up like a lamp'll do ~ want more! keep it on my channel

### Gift Received

it is rhyme to write

and time to excite

poetry is a thing of always

and haters are a thing of toll ways

keep and stay with whom and what is real

and through life's shit; you can deal

likewise with personal greatness

because those who are true couldn't fake this

it is them that remain with the wonder

when they are intimidated by the thunder

yes, it is we that keep cool deep in thought

for having dealt and surpassed all that's been fought

so, if the storm may weather

stay strong for it can't last forever

there's no appreciation for light without havin' been through dark

just as well have a goal in mind and set your mark..

yesterday is a deposited check

it's time to better our life's wreck

tomorrow is a promissory note

keep the heart filled with love and hope

for today is a cashed chance

& we're forever secure in the faith of Gods hands

### You Rush

I'm bringing you more and that's no doubt

similar to a drawer; just in when pulling out

as you can tell. nothing has changed

become the difference; something to arrange

you flinch so bad you now twitch

call you baseball -after us- you'll need stitched

you can look but I mirror as I stare back

call you anxiety 'cuz you fear attack

your life's shit ~ call it boring' an anguish

although all shit can seem to be a foreign language

I'm a cat 'n this poetry shit is a mice thing

so good that I is best \- call me finessing

talking shit as if you want to be acquainted

but I'll drop you like as if you had fainted

when in a bar I have tangled manner

while outside I'm a star. call it spangled banner

I'm your free bird, call it an escape

and got your back 'hero' call me your cape

surpassing your dress I get to your second layer

your body.. I continue to bless like a prayer

open your pipes wide like I fed you some Drano

'n leave you head over your heels like you were somewhere over the rainbow

still seduced as I've kept you moist 'n lively

got you fearing' for "it" as if you had poison ivy

while you crave peace and tranquility

I am the sign and conquered these single handily

### Whose Turn ?

I believe it is mine

do you need a bigger sign

need me to recite, yet, another line

tell you everything is goin' to be fine

is it you know where you want to go - or know where you're at - that keeps one blind

everyone wants the amazing grace, but are you the one they should find

it's hard to recollect and stay away - when all wants you to stay on the grind

know what is right so I'm no longer in that bind

what do you tell those who are close -at heart- or you remain lying'

and while you think you are ahead, it's you who is the one buying

loved ones are here to help ~ F up anymore though, they realize it's not worth trying'

thought process is muffed. want to be ahead when likewise.. it's your life flying'

looking back and doing all that you can to keep from cryin'

and your body does the same.. but in the sense of dyin'

do what you do & always watch that back. I'm afraid now, though, I must stay silent

### 4/4

diamonds are forever - yea I'm an Aries

no I don't have stds but Strength Toughness and Determination are those that I carries

haa so what it is and what is your rock

and if you are good- you're always welcome, but must first knock

potential show yourself and bring the pen full of energy

otherwise, if you are slow you'll just be dinner to me

and don't front because those are just a friend to avoid

something like an asshole on the outside. you hemorrhoid

I am silly like laughter

you finished and I'm happily ever after

so player play your part

and I ready long time ago.. when you like to start

# Bio

# I write a journal full of notes

# a book about despair and hopes

# what to desire and wish for next

# how I've played with fire and been burned more or less

# it's a lot of good and a life reined with bad pleasure

# all of which have could; and in vein my secret treasure

# what I can do is more than I can fathom

# and the shit I've done is more than you could imagine

# you learn to accept the bad along with the fun

# 'cuz even though some shit so sad I never regret what I've done

# be EZ

## Afterword

Thank you for buying this edition. There will be more to follow. The next edition is already in the works; please keep an eye out for it

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