NoT sUavE At ALL

Anyway, I probably shouldn't tell you this but what the hell..am sure if it hasn't happened to you it will soon or later. Yours trully was as usual feeling really good about himself..for a number of reasons but to name a couple; I was presentable and my music was making me smile. This happened in the subway right after leaving Runnymede station heading east in our beloved RED ROCKET. I was listening to the Artist formerly known as Prince.. Musicology!.. subconsciously moving my body to the beat because the brother can sing! Lifting up my eyes, I found myself hypnotized by a pair of eyes from a heavenly dimension..big, clear and kinda soft..naturally, am a boobs man but these eyes were an exception...So like the law of nature intended, I started tracing her territory downwards..thick full lips, a neck meant for a goddess and YES, she had class. ..I know this because I WAS THERE DAMNIT!..she dressed like she had a purpose in life..crisp white shirt tucked into a pair of nice fitting black pants which almost covered her ankles..Open milkish high heels finished the total package look..My body must have betrayed me because when I looked up, a knowing smile on her face made me feel exposed like a hooker in church. All of a sudden the music in my ears sounds like construction noises..I became acutely aware of my movements..Now, I have never danced to construction noises, so you can understand and appreciate how I felt. Her gaze on me remained steady but friendly until I became completely motionless. Now, should I look away or say something? I have never been this clueless !!! "What are you listening to?" The words rang in my ears for what seemed like eternity. Before my frozen brain could process any possible answers i heard my mouth talking; "Nothing"..What the hell? NOTHING? that's what yours trully said..NOTHING! ..."aah, prince..I am listening to prince"..finally an answer worthy of some respect...but now what?..should I add to that?...She saved me again by mentioning that she loves the singer..All I could do was state the obvious.."I love him too"..what? did I just say "i love prince"?? WTF?? "I mean I love HIS music", I corrected myself much to her pleasure..now she has absolute control on this situation..and the HUGE SMILE on her face is her trophy..I started looking for an exit strategy..THANK GOD for High Park station..yours trully managed a somewhat dignified exit with a quick.."ok cya" then i vanished... NOT SUAVE AT ALL!

Introduction:

It had always seemed strange to him that people acted as they did, but never strange enough for him to take any time out of his day to delve into the situation too deeply.
 This is not to say, however, that he connected with absolutely no one, and, in fact, most who knew him would have pinned him as quite the sociable and likeable fellow. And he was. His friends, although in reality had absolutely no idea who he actually was, were viewed under a more than positive light. They were genuine, funny, and most of all, intelligent.
 At this point in the story, some explaining will be in order, however, it must be stated that our friend did not believe that most people were, by any measure, intelligent. On the contrary, he was fairly convinced that aside from perhaps some unthinkably small percent of the human population, people were largely foolish and slow. But what disturbed him the most was what appeared to be an inability, or a lack of desire, to actually understand.
 He had always felt this way, but unfortunately had never been able to lend any sort of useable definition to what it was that they didn’t understand, and that he did understand. On several occasions, he had even contemplated his own insanity, believing them to be the one’s who understood, and he the lone, confused soldier who still stands proudly armed years after the war has ended.
 But he was not, and he had never even held a gun. All jeers aside, this word, understand, followed him around like an assassin, slowly planning the moment when our friend’s time was up. The assassin’s scope was never far from his temple, and with each person he interacted with, he knew the trigger finger was slowly tightening.
 
 Are we dealing with some metaphysical maniac, here, you may ask? Does this personal truly believe that the essence of an indefinable English word is following him around, ready to snipe and flee? Let us hope not. For if that may be the case, the book to following will be a disturbingly large waste of time, and our new friend a complete and utter dunce. On that note, let us continue.

hi all this is my story for world of wercraft im 10 so bear wiht me ok its not the best splling i got ok so enjoy

                              the wer is on
  
             

                      i did not do much on my durd its lvl 6 going on lvl 7 so win i get to lvl 10 i can chang into a bear and keep up with my lvl 30 friends i want to ironforg to get some stff realy amor and a new weopon so it will do for now till lvl 10 noting to do form ther out
                            PART 2
             
                          ok i went noth of stomwind to goldshier on the battle feld and i was on my alt xkiller hes lvl 4 i went pvp and ther lvl 70 blood elf ther he killed me 3 times the end
   


 I KNOW IT SUCKED I WAS BETER WIRTING IT SO YA LOL IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOT IF YOU WANT MY HELP IM NOT REALY LVL 6 MY MAIN IS LVL 21 I JUST NOW PLAY MY DURID SO IF YOU WANT HELP EMAIL ME AT HOLLERATME4@HOTMAIL.COM THANK YOU.

Hiya Everyone..
I write short stories and poems.
This is one of my stories.
Please read it and give me your thoughts.
Send them to brokenhrt101@gmail.com
Thanks a bunch.

***

Losing It…
“Kristen! Are you all right!?” Aunt Rebecca yelled as soon as she entered the hospital room. I just smiled weekly as her reply.
 “I’ve been better.” She ran towards me and threw her arms around my neck.
 “I will be forever grateful for what you did today! You came in front of that truck to save my s-son! “ She broke on the last word and burst into tears on my shoulder. I stroked her hair awkwardly.
 “Hey, you know what? It’s fine. No permanent damage, but my legs did really hurt running towards Aaron. After getting pregnant, I don’t think I ever ran like that.” I laughed at the end, but Aunt Rebecca didn’t join in. In fact, she looked even paler then she did when she first came in the room. Soon, I saw Damien at the door.
 “Damien, what did—“I cut short. I noticed something. Something that made me draw my breath in. He was crying. “Damien, I’m fine! Look, it’s me!” This made him smile ever so slightly and he came towards me. He sat at the edge of my bed, leaned in and kissed my forehead softly. When he got up I took hold of his hand. “Damien, is something bugging you?” I asked, wishing that the answer was no. But his grip on my hand got a little tighter.
 “Kristen…” He trailed off after that. I was growing impatient now.
 “Damien, what is it?” I was hoping I kept my impatience on the down-low, but I could even hear it myself.
 “Kristen, somebody died in the accident.” He looked into my eyes. I was confused now.
 “But there was only me, Aaron, and that truck driver. Aaron was fine, the truck driver didn’t look damaged at all. Who could have died? ” I asked skeptically. But then all of a sudden it dawned on me.
 “Damien…was it…?” I trailed off, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes as it sunk in. He sullenly nodded, keeping his own eyes down.
 “It was our b-baby.” He choked up at the end and he too put his arms around me. I tucked my head in his shoulder and cried. I could feel his tears dropping on my head. I don’t know how long we sat like that, crying. All I kept thinking was God, why? Ever since me and Damien had gotten married last spring, we both really wanted a baby. And when I got pregnant, we were the happiest people in the world. But now…
 “Kristen, your father is here and he wants to see you.” Aunt Rebecca announced at the door. I didn’t realize that she had left the room. Damien got up and I straightened up. My father? Why would he be here?
 “No, don’t let him in.” At the name of even mentioning my father, his evil doings replayed like a movie in my head. Every night, after my mother died, he would get drunk and would beat me up for no apparent reason. He was never happy with me. He would remind me ever day or when ever he got the chance that I was a big screw up. And he wasn’t drunk when he would say that. Once when I was 13 years old, he had hurt me so much, I ran away to go live with Aunt Rebecca. Ever since then she had been my guardian.
 “Kristen, I think you should let him in.” I looked at Aunt Rebecca as if she had 3 heads. But her eyes were very serious.
 “Have you lost it?” I blurted out. But she shook her head.
 “No, I haven’t Kristen, but you have to forgive. Your father looks like he will break down if he doesn’t see you. And the Lord said that you have to love your enemies.” You see? This is what you get for having a Christian aunt: Preaching for little things when ever she got the chance.
 “But Aunt Rebecca, he doesn’t even know that Damien and I are married! What if the doctor talked to him and he knows that the baby died?” I could just imagine his reaction.
 “Tell him now then, no better time like the present.” I just looked at her. She gave Damien a look and he nodded. They both left my room. I gave a huge sigh and fell back in my pillow, awaiting my doom.
 My father came rushing into my room, Damien at his heels. He mouthed the words “I’ll be right here.” I nodded slightly.
 I braced myself but what came to me was shock. My father had his arms around me, not strangling, but hugging. I could tell my shock showed and Damien’s too, but my dad didn’t notice. I guess Damien thought we were having a father-daughter moment so he left the room, but watched us through the window. Oh boy, did I regret him leaving.
 As soon as my dad realized Damien left, he got off me. He whipped out his hand and slapped me across the face, hard. I didn’t even have time to defend myself.
 “You stupid b*tch! The doctor says you lost your baby! I want to know what damn baby?!” He was yelling and Damien ran in the room and grabbed hold of him, but that didn’t stop him from yelling. Of course, Damien spoke up. At least, he tried to.
 “Mr. Harrison—“
 “Your not even f—king married!” He started screaming now. I started crying and put my hand on my stinging cheek.
 “Dad!” I screamed, as soon as he tried to lunge towards me again, but didn’t succeed because of Damien’s grip. “I am married!” This made everything freeze. “Dad, meet my husband, Damien.” Dad slowly turned to face him, then back at me. That was when he lost it.
 “You’re married?! And you didn’t even tell you father?!” He kept on yelling and yelling. “You retarded b*tch! What the f—k is wrong with you?! I knew you were a screw up but this--” By now Uncle Peter, Aunt Rebecca’s husband, came and helped Damien drag him out. I broke down on my pillow and cried and cried. I felt a hand on my shoulder moments later.
 “He won’t be coming back now.” I reached back and grabbed Damien’s hand. I scooted over and made room for him to sit down next to me and he did. I suddenly threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder. He out his head on top of mine and kept saying things like “Love, don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” I wanted to ask him how, but resisted.

REVIEWS?

The Bird, No End.

 I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. Your eyes are the only thing that gives you away; they are the only part of you that conveys something deeper inside you, something more then your eccentric exterior. The window to your soul, the window no one ever looks into, because you close the blinds and the shutters, and you make them look away. You make them all look away. Your hair is long and dread locked, dried up, and braided with dark coloured ribbons, of dirty purples and blue. I think it could be nice if you let it down sometime, clean and loose around your face, but that’s not you. Long hair is a shield, as if you’re trying to hide behind it, hide parts of you, but you don’t care do you? You have nothing to hide, nothing that needs to be shielded and hidden behind a long curtain of darkness. But you do. You have lots that you keep hidden. That no one finds. That no one looks for. Because you won’t let people look.
 I notice when your not there. I notice everything. Almost, everything. I noticed your sketch in class one day, you were sitting in front and to the side of me, I could see it over your shoulder, you weren’t trying to hide it, you have nothing to hide. It was a bird in a cage. The cage wasn’t made of metal or wire, the cage was made of marble, of bones, and stone. But the cage was open. The bird was free but it was caged. It didn’t understand it then. You wouldn’t have told me if I asked. I told you I liked it, I said you had talent. You walked away from me and through it in the nearest bin, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, because someone else thought it was. And it felt as if you through away me, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, though I never thought I was. I picked it up; I have it on my wall. Is that weird? Do you think it’s weird? Do you think I’m weird? Do you think about me at all? I tore at my head trying to understand. A free bird, in a cage made of bone. A cage made of stone, with no door. I didn’t understand it, I didn’t understand you. I do now. I do now.
 I look at you and see freedom. I see something I can never grasp. Almost never. I think that maybe that’s why I’m drawn to you, and maybe that’s why you’re drawn away from everyone and everyone from you. I am not drawn away. I am pushed. Pushed by your freedom. You represent freedom to me, in a different way then norm though, I don’t see open expression, I don’t see open plains, or wide skies on which you fly. I don’t see endless space. And I don’t see vast spaces of nothing. The doors are always closed on you. No one really directs talk at you, or asks you questions, yet they wouldn’t tease or torment you. They wouldn’t dare. It’s like an unspoken code, that you exist and are to be left that way. I think that’s why your freedom. No one looks your way. You won’t let them look. You won’t let them see. You won’t let me in. And in that you are free. But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think that you in a way aren’t free, you are caged inside the openness of the world. The sky doesn’t cover, it swallows. There is freedom yes, on the outside, the part that you cannot hide. The part that you can hide, that you do, there is the cage. The bird is you.
 I told you that, one day at school. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Almost, didn’t. It came up before I could stop it, and you reacted before you could stop it. The bird is you, I said, quietly, but so you could hear. You looked at me, straight into my eyes, nodded once, and said, no end. And time and place ceased. Everyone, thing and it ceased to exist. The orbit ceased. And I was strangely there. I was more there then I had ever been, and you had already looked away and gone. No end. I didn’t even have to think, I thought I understood, the bird was the key, the bird is you. You are the bird, the world is your cage, and there is no end. Eternity has no idea, therefore stop digging. No end.
 I didn’t want to speak to you again. I didn’t want to approach you. Almost, didn’t. So I wrote a note, an almost letter and next to it I drew the bird, I drew you. I wrote;
 Bird,
No end.
I understand.
Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging.
The cage is open Bird,
Fly away.
I understand.
 And you returned the note, the almost letter, the piece of myself back, you put it by my bag at the end of one class. You wouldn’t do it in person. I would though. You wrote next to my scrawl, you finished the sentence. You wrote;
 Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging.
 I wondered if you were compulsive. I wondered what you meant by that. Then I noticed the bird, I noticed the pencil rendition of you. Your eye was now the symbol of eternity, the snake eating its tail. And so we returned to the dark ages. We sent letters to one another. We wrote down our souls. I drew you, and you edited. You drew meanings that I couldn’t quite grasp; only once did you explain. I tried to understand. Sometimes your words got fewer. Sometimes all you wrote was no end. I called you Bird, you didn’t call me anything. I didn’t have a name, I never signed my name. I was the nothing of us. And then one day, you explained.
 No End,
Black and white is not straightforward. It is a reference used often as a means to simplify things. If I were to write myself in black and white it would take a life time. And yet I drew myself in black and white. And I rid myself of it. And you found it. I gave myself, without meaning it, at all, to you. The cage is inside me. You understand that. The bird is me. You understand that. The cage is not however metal, this you don’t understand. This you won’t understand without this, without me. Marble and bone and stone, represent death and knowledge and lies. Marble is death, because it will always survive. Marble is a strong rock, and in death we survive. The cage will never die, it will never leave. The bird is always caged. Bone, is knowledge, it is the structure and picture of our form, the protector of our brains, and therefore our knowledge, our security, our power. Power is breakable, as are bones; knowledge however is everlasting, as are bones. Stone is a single word resembling the cliché, written in stone, finality and truth, hence also the lies. There is no beginning to this cage, and no end to it. It will always remain.
 No End.
 It was only ever once a quote. All the other times I wrote it down; I wrote it as a name. A symbol of what you are. If I am Bird, then you are No End. I am Freedom, you are Eternity.
 I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. You exposed to much of yourself to me in that letter. And you never wrote back. You let someone in. You opened your window and filled your lungs with clean air. They’ll never look at you again. They’ll never try, they never did. You won’t let them, you wouldn’t let them. There is one difference though. There’s now someone sitting beside you. Someone else who is different, who hides their eyes and doesn’t talk anymore and doesn’t let people look, and they don’t try. By they don’t leave her alone either. They’ll never leave me alone. I’m the girl that will always sit beside you, some days we’ll talk. Some days we’ll draw together. But they’ll always torment, and tease, they’ll throw every ounce of self hate and issue into my being, I’m the easy target now, you even painted a bull’s eye on my forehead one day. I laughed at myself, at them, at you, at the world. And the world laughed at me. I still have your picture, but it’s been edited. The cage around you has a door now. I am your door. You shut your cage, but you shut me in. And now neither of us can get out. But neither of us will let the other in. Bird and No End. Everything and Nothing.
And you said one day, It’s the end, No End.

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You wake in the morning and go through your daily routine... grip some towels, jump in the shower... you get out you do your stuff and then you maybe grab some stuff to eat... you walk out your front door and stand there... you pause... you think to your self... why am I here, no why am I really here you don’t know where your off to.. Maybe school, work, or just to chill with some people... so why do all this, why live every day is there a meaning is there some purpose to the whole human fucking race??.. What the fuck.
You go to school to learn “skills” that you “need”, and they say you got to know all that shit for what??.. To get a fucking job... why get a job?? To make money to live off of... and it goes in the circle... and you stuck right back to where you first started. Now what?
 Some people say life is all you need... now be more pacific... right this very second stop and think to your self... what do I live for? Now right this very second picture that in your mind... go deep... what do you thrive for... maybe money? No… fame and power? No fuck that...
 I’ve gone over t it many times... and it’s simple... Love... and the search for hopefully one day finding that One person that means everything to you... the person man or woman that makes you feel like nothing ells matters and that you would give up anything and or everything for them.. Unfortunately the search for that one person is where it ends... keep looking...
now when I say love its not just love for that one person... its what you have for your friends... never ever loose a good friend.. A true friend is all ways there for you... and not at all because of what you an offer them... and love for what you have a passion for... anything from skateboarding, art, dodo I could name a million,
 So I'm not trying to get all emo or what ever on you but if you really think... your just living in a cycle that you need to break... go after what you really want at all costs.. Enjoy living by knowing that your getting closer to that one thing... don’t have short term goals... reach for what you really want... something that’s so far ahead of you it almost seems impossible not matter what and one day you will get there.. Live life one day at a time and see where it takes you... Its one huge adventure that can take you anywhere

Last time around, I got into a bad way. I was caught red handed leaving a store I just robbed. The money was needed; partly for a fix, partly for food. Now I wasn't new to this and could usually talk my way out of these situations . However, on this occasion, when confronted by three officers with their weapons drawn, I had nothing to say .I always thought running out of words would be the end of the line. I could have tried to communicate in tones and expressions, but the police would never of understood. They would have seen me as a threat, an insult to their stasis. I could have thrown my hands up but they may of just capped me in the knee. So I decided that if I charged them, I would get in too close for them to use firearms. I balled up my fist with rage and fury of all those dead without meaning. I knocked the deputy off his feet, slipped past his backup and took off toward the woods. They fired their sidearms, but God's plan would not have me die with my back turned. Run and run, pant, sweat, lungs bursting with blood vessels. I soldiered on, toward the east, where the land would shortly run out. It takes time to organize a search. They call in the dogs and the department from the next town. By then I led by at least a mile. I stopped to regain my bearings, placed my back against an oak and looked up. I was too tired for poetics, but thought to myself that the stars would make a great hiding place. There I would have the higher ground, and always be looking down. I came to a pool of water reflecting the sky; the result of a creek that lost it's flow. I splashed my face, knowing not to drink. My t-shirt had gotten wet and I figured it is only dead weight any. When the dogs found it they likely caught my scent. Having been a bloodhound, I know their minds. Domestication, food, if not then bark. Showing guts only to sway the bitch to breed. I did well but it didn't suit me. Behind me, I saw flashlights, broken up by trees. They were faint but spread out, scowering the brush. I thought they were hoping to find me like a rabbit, and claim my hide for their mantles. If I thought less, I'd of cooperated. Honesty would be virtue. I would be released in 25; my withered hands and creased face trophies of my defiant younger days. Where would a felon turn after years confined to four walls; to his trade to make ends meet, or to the broken verse of the King James Bible (dictated from the One but edited at will). There is no end to the cycle, and I decided that this would be my last stand. I rubbed my stinging thighs, and used my forearm to clear my brow. Again I started running, dodging bushes and brush; the hunted in a game only the prey takes to heart. A fox with all his wisdom still gets pulled from his hole by a cavalry with muskets and high spirits. For what crime? Theft of a chicken among many, from a farmer with a surplus. With yelping mouths to feed and territory to defend, he is put to death without trial. Without defense or reason. If they caught me I would surely be dead. The flora changed from ancient trees extending skyward, to saplings; new growth. I charged through these , bending the branches, snapping those that wouldn't. If the forest had only known I wasn't with the machines. That I was just a fleeing animal, a passerby meaning no harm I couldn't repay. With each crunch of a leaf and snap of a twig, I learned she could not differentiate between cold steel and my soft flesh. I was as guilty as the anxious woodsman sharpening their axes. Metal aiding metal. The land began to slope downward. Brush became pasture; pasture became bog. Praying for the shoreline , I continued on. With no other choice, I waded into stagnant water; first to my knees and then to my waist. My pace slowed but never faltered. The waters were thick; filled with the essence of dead or dying things. Or the living ones I could never have hoped to understand. With each step I feared being sucked under, and dissolved by natural forces. And my soul would have to linger in this place of little beauty. Maybe I would have grown accustomed. It may be a different place under sunlight. Far back the hounds howled, the beams from the flashlights were dim, but still headed toward me. I imagined the law officials being led by lesser beasts. With their itchy fingers and big bellies, performing their duties to the chirps of walkie-talkies. I still had my pursuers by a mile. But distance between them and I was the only shelter that could have given me any solace. I thought perhaps they would stop where the water stagnants. The dogs would lose the scents amidst the decay and waste. The men could have clocked out and returned to their apartments. Patted each other on the backs and left their safeties off. Exhausted from the chase, and unsure how far the bog ran, I decided to find a place to rest. I pulled myself up onto a wobbly mound of earth and moss. I dripped the murky water back down to its source. It was nearly dawn. The birdsong were all for me. About being hungry. About being alive. As the the sun rose the sky became purple then pink. Steam lingered around the dark water and rotting branches, but daylight changed everything. The expanse of mud, still water and wood shined in a way only that time of day can reveal. Like earth when it was new, untouched and eager to foster life. A sanctuary among the dead and dying essence of it all. And there I sat on a throne of moss and mud, presiding over a kingdom only I was fit to rule. My reverie was broken by the pounding of chopper blades. It moved quick, cutting the air as it searched for a target. They passed too far north but continued to circle back until they had their blood. I was on the move again. A king in exile. The water was no longer a hindrance, it moved me toward my escape. I didn't know how then, but didn't have time to question it. Putting miles behind me, I could see a change in terrain not very far ahead. Quickening my pace, I rushed toward dry land and deliverance from the spiteful sights of the lawmen. My heart pumped fast; my breath had left me unable to hear the chopper returning. It peeked over the tree line, and flew directly toward me. I was exposed. Upon spotting me the aircraft decreased speed and headed back from where it came. Staying on course, I eventually reached the end of the bog. I stepped out of the water directly onto pavement. The sounds of sirens and freeways replaced my heavy breaths. The police were waiting, ready to deal with me in whatever way was most convenient. Squad cars flashed their lights; officers cocked their rifles and handguns. They were no longer aiming at my knees, these shots would be for the kill. Extending my arms and palms forward, I walked the pavement slowly toward them. I tried to take it all in. Looking at the cops faces I saw through the bravado, these men weren't killers. I was sure these men had on occasion stayed up into the night feeling small next to the universe. They were just doing their duty- what they have always been told is right. They were no more at fault then a child reared by an abusive father. "Get down on the ground, Hands behind your head" I continued to slowly approach the waiting police. I thought about the cops children, and their children's children. I thought about my father and his father, and his father's father. "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD" And it all seemed so simple and so complex. The uncertainty of life is the reason it is worth living. Answering the big questions takes something away from it. "This is your final warning, do as we say or we will be forced to engage you" The crimes I had committed were minor in regard to the grand scheme. It is just circumstance that placed me on that side of the loaded guns. I wondered if there was really any definitive 'right' or 'wrong'. I wondered what the pavement covered over... BANG BANG The first shot put me down, the second is the one that took my life. Picture perfect too, right between the eyes. It happened so fast I didn't feel a thing. I've been returned to my kingdom- in the moss creeping over mud. And in mist hovering lazily above it. And in the murky water, pulling down the dead so they can be used again.

this is part of a short story ive written, its a bit on the strange side but i worked hard on it. id really like to hear some feedback wether it be good or bad.

 A vast plain stretched out under a searing sun and pure blue sky. Small tufts of shrubbery and scraggly trees poked their way out of the parched soil. Wisps of smoke drifted steadily into the darkening sky from a secluded camp. It was hard living out on the plains but some hardy people had managed to find a decent life out here. Not too far away from the camp, a young woman ran steadily and determinedly towards the smoke, pursued by dark and nameless terrors. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. Slim, even in pregnancy, she had delicately sculpted features and wavy black hair that fell to her knees. Intense green eyes were filled with fear at capture and her soft lips were parted in a wordless prayer. She ran a hand over her swollen belly and realized she had not long to go. She knew she would be safe at the camp; her pursuers wouldn’t dare reveal themselves to mortal eyes. After what seemed an eternity of running, she made it to the edge of the camp and her pursuers hissed and swore at her but did not come near the camp. She looked back at them and sighed in relief as they turned around and went back the way they came. Exhaustion overcame her as she was found by two of the plainspeople and carried to a tent and she passed happily into a deep sleep.
 As the morning sun rose in the sky, the young woman awoke and quickly looked around to make sure she was safe. An elderly woman smiled at her kindly and handed her a cup of hot tea. She took it and nodded in thanks to the old woman. She got up and wandered around the camp, speaking to no one, telling them neither her name nor how she came to be here. She accepted their food and hospitality but said not a word. After about a week, the pains started and the elderly woman who stayed with her in the tent rushed to help her deliver her baby. Soon, a baby girl had entered the world. The old woman looked at the child and gasped with fear for the baby was in no way human. Its eyes were yellow and slit-pupiled and its ears were pointed. But the strangest thing about it was that it was covered in a coat of soft silvery white fur. The young woman spoke for the first time.
 “Her name shall be Sabriel and you must guard her with your life for as you can see she is a very special child. Do not ever leave her side and let not the terrors of darkness come near her for she is all of humanity’s hope.” After this strange speech, the woman lay down and died. The old woman looked at the girl and wondered if she should simply throw the abomination in a sack and leave it for the buzzards. But the young woman’s words had disturbed her and she wondered how this freak of nature could save all of humanity. This speculation led to even more questions. What was threatening humanity anyways? Why did the young woman just die? Who could have been the child’s father? The old woman sighed and carried the infant out to see what the rest of the camp had to say about it and see if there might be someone willing to take in the child for she was too old to be playing nurse for a strange furry child. As she walked to the center of the camp, many people stared incredulously at the small bundle in her hands. They had never seen anything like it.
 “The silent one who has been with us this week has died after bearing her child. As you can see, it is no normal child but it still needs care. Do we leave it to join its mother or is there one here that will care for it?”
 “I will care for it”, called a man in the crowd. His name was Leland and he had just lost his wife and daughter to a horrible sickness. He strode up to the old woman and took the child into his arms. The terrible blow to his heart at the loss of his beautiful wife and daughter was partly healed by the baby girl in his arms. He immediately felt a rush of love for the poor motherless child and told himself he would never let anyone or anything ever harm her. He would protect her with his life and do everything to make her happy.
 “Did her mother give her a name?” he asked
 “Yes, her name is Sabriel, replied the old woman.
 “Sabriel…. a strange name for a strange child”, Leland said. “But no matter how strange I shall care for her and try and be a mother as well as a father to her.”
 “Before her mother died, she imparted some very strange words upon me that think you must hear as the guardian of this child. Come into the tent with me for they are for your ears alone,” said the old woman.
Leland sat outside his tent and pondered the words the old woman had told him. The child had curled up at his feet like a dog and had fallen asleep. He wondered what could happen to humanity and what the terrors of the darkness were. These thoughts unsettled him and he went back inside the tent, taking the girl with him. Gently, he put her in the bed that his daughter had used. He wiped away a tear and silently said a last goodbye. This strange infant was his daughter and his life now.
 Eight years had passed since the strange child came into their camp. By this time the plainspeople had become accustomed to her odd habits and bizarre way of talking. Often times she was found talking to the dogs in the camp and she spoke with a peculiar growling voice that was hard to understand. Another thing was her odd eating habits. She ate mostly red meat and insisted on going on hunting trips with her father and the rest of the men. She used no weapons to hunt with but instead hunted with her unusually sharp teeth and the long claws that had developed when she was about five. The only thing that really unsettled Sabriel’s adopted father was that she constantly wanted to wander. She had heard tales of lands where tall trees grew and water flowed through grass covered hills where strange animals roamed such as things called squirrels. Mostly animals here were just jackrabbits, vultures, and some wild boars. She had never even seen a squirrel and idly wondered what they would taste like. She resolved that one day she would travel to these strange lands. She had a good life and her father was a good man but she felt like she just didn’t belong. She did not like the harsh sun and landscape and mostly stayed inside which was quite boring. She felt the urge to travel and planned for the day she would leave the camp.
 Eight more years later, a circus came to the camp. This was a new experience to Sabriel and almost everyone else. The last time the circus came around, she was too young to even remember. The circus only came around once in many years. She was overwhelmed by it all. She passed by the caged animals and saw a large gray wolf in one. It looked at Sabriel and immediately gave a bark of surprise.
 “What is wrong, wolf-brother?” asked Sabriel
 “He promised he would sire no children,” muttered the wolf.
 “Excuse me, but what do you mean wolf-brother?” she asked politely.
 “I am called Sameth and I know your father, young wolf-sister.”
 “Can you take me to him?” she asked excitedly.
 “If you would set me free, I would gladly take you to him. But choose wisely, wolf-sister, for many perils would you face along the way. There are those that would love to have you for their dark plans but fear being seen by mortal eyes. I would do my best to protect you, but I may not be enough. You are safe here but I sense a yearning to travel in you.”
 “Oh yes, wolf-brother, I will set you free and we shall travel to the lands of trees and squirrels!”
 “Squirrels”, Sameth growled, “are the most annoying and impudent creatures I have ever met. You would like them.”
 Sabriel was overcome with joy. Now was her chance to get out of this wasteland! She would feel sorry at leaving her father but she had to find her true father and this wolf could take her! She checked to see that no one was looking as she quickly stole the keys and set the wolf free.
 “Quickly, wolf-sister! We must make haste!”
 Sabriel nodded and got on all fours, signaling to the wolf that she was ready. They ran off, the large wolf leading and Sabriel not far behind. The wind streamed past her, ruffling her fur and she let out a feral howl of joy. They ran on for hours until Sabriel thought she would drop from exhaustion. Finally Sameth stopped and told her that they would rest here that night. She sighed with relief and lay beneath a small bush thinking of the freedom she now had. She felt very sad at leaving Leland but promised herself that she would come back to see him again. Sleep overcame her and she welcomed it, reveling in the sweet night air.

Crow’s chicks,
                                       A true story.


                    The crow’s caw caw were always harsh to my ears as I never liked the tone of it’s dull sound, reminding me the occurrence when I was bang pecked by a crow on my head twice, while too eager to come near to it’s nest to watch the hatching of chicks from a roof top. The unusual curiosity to watch that bird’s nest, its eggs, and the coming out of chicks came from reading of the text in my school days, lesson describing; how a cuckoo deceives the crow by laying her egg in the crow’s nest.
                       When I shifted to reside in a flat near Safari park, Karachi, that inquisitiveness suddenly became a reality. As one day, I saw the he-crow and she- crow difficult to distinguish, picking twig by twig from nearby areas, and making a nest on a triangular niche of a tree at the front of my lounge’s large steel bar grilled window.
                          My interest grew day by day as I watched the birds lay the eggs under the safety of my protected window at same elevation as that of crow’s nest on a bough. The craftiness of crows thrilled me as one crow protected the nest; the other sat on the eggs, turning it occasionally by its beak, sometimes by talons to incubate it uniformly. In addition, how the husband was feeding the hungry wife on eggs with food from it mouth or vise versa, some times stashing the breadcrumbs into the small berries closely knit bunches for urgent situation nourishment needs.
                    Suddenly one day, rare to the area, a whistling cyclone hit the town with winds roaring like howling hyenas. I went to window, was sad to see the trees swinging like a pendulum in blinding storm, many fell down and some branches of the tree on which crow’s nest positioned also fell, making me certain that eggs and nest were gone to the wind.
                     Next day it rained heavily and I was unable to spot the crow’s nest, as the visibility was poor, birds were hiding away somewhere for their refuge from harsh weather. I was unable to spot the crows for three days, but the nest was safely perched as if the clever birds were aware of incoming of cyclone and chosen the strongest branch to make the nest. My disillusionment at the loss of crows hatching eggs turned into delight on a sunny day, when I saw fledglings were chirping in the nest, crows were feeding them through their beaks and my observation that only two chicks were hatched proved incorrect later.
                I watched that while one crow was guarding the chicks from predators such as kites, other was out to procure food. The chicks were growing day-by-day and always famished showing their empty stomach through their open beaks, but their parents fed them well, enduring their own hunger for the sake of their young ones.
                 A loud caw caw from many crows in unison compelled my to rush to my watch as I saw many crows protesting for some swindle they saw and the father crow engaged in a fight with dark black looking fledgling, it was a murder of crows as some literati say o flock of that bird. Soon I realized that it was cuckoo’s chick and crows had realized that reality when it grew large enough to be distinguished between their own chick and an alien’s hatchling. From somewhere cuckoo by its melodic coo called and its chick prevailed upon the crows, warded them off through its sharp talons, and fell from the clutches of foster crows to go to her real mother in the nearby bush.
                After few days, the chicks had grown enough to hop out of nest with their parents watching them always, but had no wings to fly. They jumped from one bough to another, and then were able to take short flights to nearby trees only never the less protected by their parents from falling over.
                         Another incident happened as I saw many kites hovering over the crow’s nest and as many crows, crowing at their level best clamor, that drew me to window to know what had happened. I assumed that as kites were zooming over the crow’s nest, birds of prey might took away one or two chicks of crow by swooping on the nest with talons full open for an easy grab of fledgling. However, the next morning I was happy to note that all the chicks were roosting well in their nest, after some days, they flew away to some distance places and nest became desolate.
                  The close of crow’s chick watching came one day, when I saw the mother crow fuming, her feathers looking like hedge hog’s fluff as her still young crows sitting on the same bough where nest was standing, wanted food from their parents by opening their beaks towards her, and it seemed to me that she was saying,
                   “Go; search your own food now.”
           Bird watching is a great fun as procreation goes on, in a case, when a crow does not peck at you on the head at your bird observation.

         Written by M. R Rambler.

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hi........i'm mallory and my friend was recently killed and i am kinda a dancer so i guess this makes my story sort of auto-biographical.............it's called Cherry's Life.
Tell me what u guys think



Cherry Heart headed towards the club’s stage. She was a five foot four go-go dancer. She had teasing full red lips. She had dark wavy hair that was full and luscious. She had icy blue eyes that pierced the audience when she looked at them. She had muscular legs and arms and a flat tummy. She slowly began to rock back and forth. “Oh great,” she thought, “That old horny rich guy is center stage again.” She loathed having to dance for an old fruit cake like him. He came in to watch her shake her tiny little butt and to watch her do her thirtieth useless talent….Go-go dancing. It was the only thing that could bring her completely to tears in front of everyone she hated. She hated the people in her audience. Those old losers that snuck out of their houses after their decrepit wives had fallen asleep. Or the young kids that probably snuck in the back way. But most of all she hated the drunken assholes that came in and expected all the girls to shag him after they were done on stage. They were always the attractive guys that girls sit on street corners and think, “I wonder why a hottie like that is single?” “Well ladies,” thought Cherry, “I can tell you why. They are those jerks who get drunk every night, and if they are too sober, well that’s when the problems begin. You see, they are the guys who are jerks when they are sober and jerks when they are drunk. In fact the only time they weren’t complete and total asses is when they are asleep.”
 Cherry began to dance to the familiar Planet Terror music that the creator of the club she worked for loved so much. She was always told that she could have been someone great if she had tried. “Well this is about as great as I have ever been.” she thought. It wasn’t exactly true and she knew it. Maybe that’s why after she danced, and on a very rare occasion, when she danced she cried her little blue eyes out. It was always a known fact that she was one of the most beautiful girls ever to live in her small town in Oklahoma. In fact it could be argued that she was one of the sexiest women ever to dance in the entire south. But of course, there is a reason why dance clubs like this one are next to a bar.
 As she was shaking her hair, turning around and then dancing towards her pole, she began to tear up, again. Her friend had just been brutally murdered and she wanted answers she knew she would never get. She wanted to know why on earth Destiny had ever gone to that crazy boyfriend’s house. She knew why he had killed her. Destiny, no matter what anyone said, was not a whore. She didn’t want to sleep with that jerk and he strangled her to death, and then took what he had wanted so badly he had killed her for it. It made Cherry sick, and she wanted to do some pretty serious damage to that jerks face and all his other “precious” parts. She hadn’t been allowed to do any of those things and she was currently being charged with battery, she hit his whore of a mother when she dared to show her wrinkled chubby face at Destiny’s funeral. Like she cared, she would pay a fine and be given a higher dose of Lithium. All the wrath she felt came from knowing that there was nothing she could have done to save Destiny. Oh well…like any of it mattered anymore. She worked a crappy job as a go-go dancer and she was never happy. “Why should I be happy? My job sucks and a bunch of middle aged alcoholics stare at my ass all day.” she thought when she came down from the pole and began to swing her hips and hands in time with the music. She loved moving her body like that. It always made her feel extremely free. The shitty pay and creeps was not very good benefits and she threatened to quit her job at least four times a week. Of course she was the clubs jewel, so she could never quit. Not only would all of her friends be put on the streets, but she would no longer have a source of income. As shitty as it was, she needed it to survive. “What would I do without my $500 a week? I wouldn’t be able to pay rent.” It was these agonizingly true statements that made her feel even more miserable. The song ended and she stroked her famous ending pose. Hands above the head, back arched and one foot up. The small, drunk crowd cheered lazily and then waited for the next song to start. Cherry looked over to the other dancers that were on stage. “They’re all hopeless losers. Not one of them is ever going to get out of this place. Not alive, at least. Everyone knows what happens to dancers after a while,” she thought to herself angrily. She rehashed in her mind the last girl who thought she was getting out. She was found beaten to death in her apartment by a guy who tried to rape her. The girls who “got out” weren’t protected anymore from the creeps who would otherwise own most of the girls at the club. There was no way to escape and that frightened Cherry just as much as it infuriated her. “I was going places. I would have been one of those women who would be writing about the horrors of places like these, not living them. Oh well, nothing is going to change the fact that rent is due and I don’t have it. Nothing is going to change the fact that I have a shitty job, live in a crappy apartment, and I can barely pay for food,” she muttered to herself. There was only a couple hours left till she could go back to her house. But of course home wasn’t really home anymore, was it? She couldn’t think of the last time she had gotten home and the shit hadn’t really hit the fan. “Cherry, get a hold of yourself! You only have to finish a few more songs and then you can leave and go to sleep.” She pondered the probability of her actually getting a good night’s sleep and then decided to take a lot of NyQuil before she went to sleep. As she swung her hair she saw the man in the first row spill his whiskey and soda water. It was dark amber with the strength of the whiskey. She knew that this wasn’t his first, explaining why he spilled it in the first place. He often left money at the counter for her. It was odd. He left $50 or $60 a week and just left. In fact, Cherry couldn’t remember the last meal she had eaten without his money paying for some of it. “Cherry, you’ve been so rude,” she thought, “This man has paid for half of the food that goes in your stomach and you haven’t even thanked him!” It was a known fact that not only was he a drunk, he was a married drunk. The girls had a name for people like him. Sexually inept. When the song finally ended and Cherry had swung down from the top of her pole, she rushed off the stage.
 “Stew, god damn it! I can’t dance anymore! I’m too tired and I’m feeling woozy! Maybe it’s because I don’t get paid enough to buy food! I should quit!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. Stew gave her one of those looks that said “Try me.” Those were the looks that made Cherry even more pissed. “Don’t give me that look, Stew! I can’t do this… I need to eat! No one likes a pissy dancer,” she said hoping that his inner business man would make it past his manhood.
 “Fine. Get some food and a good nights rest and then get back here tomorrow. I’m not letting you get away with this shit tomorrow. Do you understand me?” he said like he was talking to a three year old. Cherry bit her tongue and changed into her tube top and leather mini skirt. She then zipped up her boots and bolted out of the building faster than lightning. She made a right turn and ran into her crappy VW. She unlocked the door and started the fussy engine. She slammed on the gas and left as quickly as she could. She really was feeling woozy and she needed to eat. She hadn’t eaten in two days. It was starting to get to her, again. She made a quick left at the light and went straight for about a mile. She looked for a place to eat that would be cheap. She saw a McDonald’s. “Well it’s not fillet minion but it’s definitely cheap,” she said aloud to herself. She fiddled with the radio dial and found a hip-hop station that she could listen to. She loved singing along with songs, as long as no one else heard her. She decided to pull into the McDonald’s and see what they had. “Not much, probably some shitty burgers and some stale fries,” she decided. She made a hard left turn into the parking lot and stopped at the menu. She ordered a diet coke, a Big Mac, and some fries. She pulled up at the window to get her food and realized this was one of those places. The lady at the window eyed her up and down like she was supposed to be in the dumpster at the back of the building. “Is there a problem, miss?” Cherry asked as politely as she could. “Yes actually there is, you see, no shirt and no clothes, well no service,” she said. “Oh, really? Well what’s this? Huh? What do you think I wear this for my health? These are clothes and I think I’m wearing them so give me the food I paid for,” she said. “Um, well we don’t serve whores either. You know there’s a whole building down the road for people like you,” the girl behind the counter exclaimed. She was a pizza faced, frizzy hair teenager. “Oh, really? Well I work there and if you don’t have anything else to say, I have something to say. First, some Proactiv will clear that face right up. Second, if you use shampoo when you take a shower your hair won’t look so shitty. Oh, and while you’re trying to fix your little teenaged ego, get my food,” Cherry said. She put her sweetest smile on her face and after about five minutes of just sitting there she finally got her food. “Oh and if you ever need a job, don’t worry, the club hires ugly dancers too!” Cherry yelled as she drove away. “That was more of an experience that it really needed to be. I know I don’t exactly dress like a nun but, come on, if you work at a fast food place just give me my food!” Cherry thought. She kept driving through the brightly lit streets and saw the big homes with happy families inside it pass by her.
 “You would be so surprised,” Cherry thought, “The rich and poor parts of this town look like two different worlds.” She came around a corner and you could see the cracked windows and one bedroom shacks that dotted the area. There was metal piled everywhere. You could see young couples starting to come back from their dates, and all the dealers who tried to trap people like Cherry. “Been there, done that!” Cherry thought as she passed one of the younger dealers on the street selling to a girl she worked with. She slowly pulled up to the apartment complexes where she lived. She used her key to get her through the front doors and then quickly climbed the stairs two at a time. She turned left when she got to the top of the stairs and unlocked her door fast. As soon as she was inside her apartment she locked and bolted the doors. She sat down her food and her purse and went to make sure no one had broken in again. Nothing seemed to be missing, she didn’t have much to steal anyway, but the picture frame with Destiny’s picture was grafitied on. “Damn kids,” she thought, “Why can’t they respect the dead?” Cherry’s house was often hit by the brats of her neighborhood because her locks were easy to pick and she was the person with the least shit any way. She walked into her kitchen and sat down at her table. It was a plastic folding table and her chairs were neon blue lawn chairs. She remembered that Destiny used to say that the place was so classy it looked shitty. Cherry began to cry at the memory of Destiny. She had been so alive; it was hard to believe she was really gone. Destiny hadn’t taken shit from anyone and Cherry didn’t either. “We are so twins separated at birth!” Destiny had always said. Cherry tried to get Destiny to be a stand up comedian, but she was killed two days before her first show. “Stop doing this to yourself! It’s not your fault! There was nothing you could have done to stop any of this!” Cherry yelled in her mind.
 After half an hour of just staring at her food, Cherry drank the diet coke and ate the fries. She threw the rest in a Ziploc bag and saved it for if she got hungry later. “I need a shower and some freaking sleep!” Cherry said. She walked into her bathroom and started the hot water for a shower. Her bathroom was supposedly a full bathroom, but it was the size of a half bathroom. She didn’t care though because that’s all she could afford. “When I get a degree I’ll move into a nice apartment that has a real bathroom. Yeah, and I’ll go to the moon too!” Cherry thought. Her bedroom was big enough to fit her grandma’s old king sized bed, but it left about two feet of room on each side of the bed for her to move around in her room. She had to keep her dresser full of clothes in the living room next to her thirteen inch screen television. Her living room had a couch and a television, and of course her dresser, along with an old Nintendo that she liked to play sometimes when there was nothing else on TV.
 Cherry saw that steam was beginning to pour out of the bathroom so she went in and turned down the water. She took of her clothes and jumped into the shower. The hot water began to unknot her back and shoulder muscles. This was Cherry’s version of a sauna and a massage. It was the only thing that kept her from losing it half the time. When she was done with her shower she grabbed a green fuzzy towel from the rack and wiped off the mirror. Her pale skin seemed dull and her hair looked limp. “I need something to change. I can’t let myself go just because of what’s happened. It was a month ago now and I think that I owe it to myself and Destiny to move on with my life,” Cherry said to the mirror. She always gave herself pep talks and usually they worked, but not this time. She felt like the world was closing in on her. “I want out…my life and my job suck! I can’t shake my ass for perverts for the rest of my life. I won’t! I can’t believe I thought I could live without Destiny here!” Cherry shouted. She grabbed the metal hand mirror and threw it against her mirror. The mirror smashed in to pieces and went everywhere. “What a god damn shame,” she said as she left to go take her nightly meds. That night she swallowed a whole bottle of Lithium and went to sleep. Cherry Heart never woke up again.
 The locals honored her death by writing this in the paper:
Local go-go dancer, Cherry Heart, committed suicide by taking an entire bottle of Lithium last Tuesday. The dancer was a very unhappy girl. She was known to cry while dancing on stage. Fellow dancer Brandy had this to say about the tragedy: “We all knew it was a matter of time before she knocked her self off. She was always unhappy even though people left her money all the time. I think she killed herself ‘cause she was ungrateful. Of course, I would kill myself too if I was that ugly!” Well, Cherry was anything but ugly. She was the jewel of the Happy Times Go-Go men’s club. We know she will be missed.
What a lovely way to be remembered, right?

Well, I wrote this, my brother died recently and I was sick, litersally, with grief, so I wrote this as sort of a wish, like I wished this would happen...


Neemah lay on her couch. She didn't care anymore, she wanted to end it. I wish Matt was here, she thought. Then the idea struck her. She scrambled for a piece of paper and a pen. She sat weriting for a few minutes. Neemah folded the paper into three and slipped it into an envelope. She prowled her house for some helium and balloons of two certain colours, seven red and black. She found the balloons a few moments after beginning her search. She found the helium in the garage. She pumped up the balloons and tied them together. Neemah then taped the bundle of balloons to the envelope and wandered out to Lake Singepoure. She and Matt had spent countless afternoons there, just talking, brother to sister. They were considerably closer than most siblings, in fact, they were the best of friends.
When she reached the edge of the glistening water, she looked up. Neemah took a deep breath and let go of the balloons. They floated up slowly and softly, almost dreamily. She watched them rise up in the sky until she could no longer see the red and black balloons. She smiled, feeling some of her grief drift away with the rising bundle. Some of the horrible events had finally got off her chest.
Up in heaven, a young man glided through the neverending happiness. He looked around and saw odd colour, red and black. This was odd in heaven. It made him curious because these were his two favourite colours. He bent down and lifted the balloons up. They couldn't float in heaven, even he, who had just got here a few days ago knew this. It was because there was a boundry for everything, even the departed. The only object that had no boundry was a prayer.
What really intrigued him was seeing his name on the front of the envelope in beautiful handwriting he thought her recognized. He detached the envelope with difficulty, there was so much tape, but he eagerly did it. If there was any chance, even the slightest chance it was from her.....
Matt ripped it open. He read it through quickly the first time. The tears were fighting to get out of him, but he fought back. He read it through the second time and couldn't contain himself. The tears had beaten his defences, and they wouldn't stop coming. He dropped the letter out of his trembling hands.


Dearest Brother,

If you are reading this, I just want you to know I love you and miss you terribly. I'll keep you up to date, promise.

Love,

Neemah



Teardrops had spattered the page, they never quite went away, not even when she arrived herself.

STEVE MARTINEZ _ THE GOOD SAMARITAN

I've been trying to track you down FOR EVER. If you read this email Agunshymartyr@aol.com PLEASE!!!

Edited by author 02-01-2008 11:09 PM
I just wrote this and would like it if you would critique it. Ironyisjust@hotmail.com is my email. Thank you for reading.

"Keep on looking, Michael, if you search hard enough I promise you'll find what it is your looking for!" Allen hollered from the other room.

Yea right, Michael thought, I've been looking day after day, for the past year, and I still haven't fucking found it. Hell I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for. "Alright Allen, I'll try harder, but I'm absolutely sure that it's not there."

Michael gazed aimlessly through the stained glass window. Something outside moved and caught the corner of his eye. What the hell is that? Michael wondered. He stared more intently now curious as too what was out there. Hrmm, Maybe I should check it out. He turned around and headed for the door. Slowly he cracked it open and peered outside. Again out of the corner of his eye he saw the same thing. Dammit I don't want to go out there. It's too damn cold out, and besides it was probably just my imagination. A cool breeze suddenly picked up out of the west began too blow the snow into the doorway. Thinking he didn't want to bother with moping up the mess from the snow later he quickly stepped outside, feet crunching in the snow, and slammed the door shut behind him. What the hell am I doing? This is absurd, we are alone out here too far out for anyone to be hiking, besides in this blizzard you would freeze to death within a few minutes out here. He wrapped his coat firmly around himself and he walked over to where he had first seen the movement. Nothing. I'm wasting my damn time. He continued looking from spot too spot around the house eventually arriving back at the front door. Well...that was a complete waste of time.

"Hey Michael what are you looking for?" He heard Allen yell from inside.

"I already told you I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed back in response, but again Allen egged him on.

"Hey Michael what are you looking for?"

"Dammit Allen I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME I DON'T KNOW!"

He was becoming very irritated now, and the cold was too much to bear. He turned the knob on the door, but much to his avail it was locked.

Ugh I locked myself out. Al is gonna have a laugh about this.

"Hey Al I accidentally locked myself out can you come and get the door for me?"

"Only you can open that door Michael, this is what I've been telling you for so long."

"What? I'm not kidding man, It's cold out here. PLEASE open the door."

"How long will it be before you recognize my voice, Michael, I've been teaching you this same lesson for so very long, but it seems that you are hard at hearing. If you would listen, just for a moment, to my words you would know me, and when find me you will find yourself."

I'm too damn cold to be playing these games. Fed up with Allens shit Michael turned and went too the garage. I'll just take the car out for a drive. He opened the key pad and typed in his code, *****, the door slid open. What the...?? The car wasn't there, and they only had one car. Michael heard a soft crunching on the snow, and the sound of an engine coming up the long driveway. He turned around and saw the Legacy, Subaru, pulling up the driveway. Allen pulled the car up and asked,"What are you doing out here Michael? Isn't it a little cold too be playing in the snow?"

"Yea I suppose it is. How did you get out here so fast?" he asked

"What do you mean? Allen responded, "I've been gone for the last 2 hours. Didn't you know?"

"No, I guess I didn't realize you had left."

Allen walked up to the front door and tuned the knob. It opened and he went inside, Michael on his heels.

"Hey wasn't that door locked?" Michael asked

"Nope, are you alright? Your acting kind of odd?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just fine."

> Date: Sat, 12 Jan 2008 12:33:38 +0000> Subject: Post a Short Story for Review> From: qtopic-31-PctTXbNuxJh@quicktopic.com> To: qtopic-subs@quicktopic.com
 
 
 
 
 
Yes seeng it I have to say that the setting without knowing the backroung of this story is very dificult to elect it's good or not. There seems be great dela of practucale writing yet I couls see the writer being rather young. On the good road to go. cheerio.
I a back when i soper up.> > --QT-------------------------------------------------------------> Reply by email or visit> http://www.quicktopic.com/31/H/PctTXbNuxJh/m69>; -------------------------------------------------------------- --> > Joey Vee> > It all began on a typical monday night over at Caldwell Avenue.> The guys would sit outside the club talking amongst one another,> throwing a joke into almost every line they said.> It was the year 1972, the streets of the Bronx belonged to> Ettorisanto's.> Adriano Ettorisanto was the Boss, he would sit in the backroom> with a few of his most trusty men, talking about business.> Sonny Mancini was a Caporegime in the family, Caldwell Avenue> was where most of his crew would hang out.> > Over on the left was Joey Vitelli, Sonny's right hand man,> people called him Joey Vee because of his surname, if you asked> the guy to do you a favour, he'd attend to that favour with> great effort.> Joey was originally from a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn, his> mother and father were Sicilians that had moved to New York due> to trouble that had been caused in their home town, they never> returned.> Joey's father was named Enrico, his friends called him Rico, he> died when Joey was twelve years old, shot down in the streets.> > The man who had killed Enrico was aventually found out in 1962> when a certain rumour passed through the streets.> A man named John Lazzero had strolled into the neighbourhood> with a pistol tucked into his trousers, pulling up at the side> of the road.> The men outside the club watched as John walks into the club,> looking from one side to the other.> Sitting down a few seats away from where Joey was sitting, he> watched his every move, waiting for the right moment to strike.> Joey had noticed him at last, everything went silent around the> table, everyone had noticed that out of every person in the room> that was talking, John was the only one sat on his own, no smile> to be seen.> > Sonny whispered into Joey's ear, he could tell that this was> something serious, something that shouldnt be happening.> Sonny stood up from his seat, making his way to the entrance.> The table was one person short, with Sonny out of the way, Joey> had become an easy target.> Sonny reappeared by the entrance of the door, staring over at> John who was still waiting for the right time.> Joey stands up, walking to the entrance to meet Sonny.> Walking out from the club, the both of them head down the> street, making their way to Sonny's bakery.> Standing outside the bakery, Sonny begins to speak.> "Right, as soon as that cock sucker appears round the corner,> get the fuck in the bakery, I'm gonna make this quick".> "That guy killed your pap, you dont wanna let him get away with> a thing like that, not in this day and age".> > John had appeared at the corner, a gun weilded to his hand, this> was his only chance to finish the job.> Joey walks into the bakery, leaving Sonny to do the dirty work.> Two of Sonny's men had appeared a few metres behind John, guns> in their hands, waiting for the sound of a gunshot.> Sonny points his gun in John's direction and begins to speak,> his eyes focused on John's every move.> "Right, put the gun down".> "You've got two guys behind you, you've got no way to run, what> the fuck do you expect to do now?"> "Put it down".> John throws his gun to one side, giving himself up to the two> men standing behind him.> Being thrown into the bakery, John knew that he wouldnt get out> of the place alive, these were the last minutes of his life.> > Tied to a chair, John sit there, his face beaten by the savage> men stood before him.> The time had come, Sonny stand there, a gun aimed at John from> his waste.> A few gunshots had shut him up for life, Joey's head was clear> from all problems, his father's killer was dead.> _________________________________________________________________> To unsubscribe: http://www.quicktopic.com/31/X/PctTXbNuxJh>; Start your own topic in 20 seconds: http://www.quicktopic.com |QT _________________________________________________________________ Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! Download today it's FREE! http://messenger.msn.click-url.com/go/onm0...STRIPMIME_JOINLINES

Joey Vee

It all began on a typical monday night over at Caldwell Avenue.
The guys would sit outside the club talking amongst one another, throwing a joke into almost every line they said.
It was the year 1972, the streets of the Bronx belonged to Ettorisanto's.
Adriano Ettorisanto was the Boss, he would sit in the backroom with a few of his most trusty men, talking about business.
Sonny Mancini was a Caporegime in the family, Caldwell Avenue was where most of his crew would hang out.

Over on the left was Joey Vitelli, Sonny's right hand man, people called him Joey Vee because of his surname, if you asked the guy to do you a favour, he'd attend to that favour with great effort.
Joey was originally from a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn, his mother and father were Sicilians that had moved to New York due to trouble that had been caused in their home town, they never returned.
Joey's father was named Enrico, his friends called him Rico, he died when Joey was twelve years old, shot down in the streets.

The man who had killed Enrico was aventually found out in 1962 when a certain rumour passed through the streets.
A man named John Lazzero had strolled into the neighbourhood with a pistol tucked into his trousers, pulling up at the side of the road.
The men outside the club watched as John walks into the club, looking from one side to the other.
Sitting down a few seats away from where Joey was sitting, he watched his every move, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Joey had noticed him at last, everything went silent around the table, everyone had noticed that out of every person in the room that was talking, John was the only one sat on his own, no smile to be seen.

Sonny whispered into Joey's ear, he could tell that this was something serious, something that shouldnt be happening.
Sonny stood up from his seat, making his way to the entrance.
The table was one person short, with Sonny out of the way, Joey had become an easy target.
Sonny reappeared by the entrance of the door, staring over at John who was still waiting for the right time.
Joey stands up, walking to the entrance to meet Sonny.
Walking out from the club, the both of them head down the street, making their way to Sonny's bakery.
Standing outside the bakery, Sonny begins to speak.
"Right, as soon as that cock sucker appears round the corner, get the fuck in the bakery, I'm gonna make this quick".
"That guy killed your pap, you dont wanna let him get away with a thing like that, not in this day and age".

John had appeared at the corner, a gun weilded to his hand, this was his only chance to finish the job.
Joey walks into the bakery, leaving Sonny to do the dirty work.
Two of Sonny's men had appeared a few metres behind John, guns in their hands, waiting for the sound of a gunshot.
Sonny points his gun in John's direction and begins to speak, his eyes focused on John's every move.
"Right, put the gun down".
"You've got two guys behind you, you've got no way to run, what the fuck do you expect to do now?"
"Put it down".
John throws his gun to one side, giving himself up to the two men standing behind him.
Being thrown into the bakery, John knew that he wouldnt get out of the place alive, these were the last minutes of his life.

Tied to a chair, John sit there, his face beaten by the savage men stood before him.
The time had come, Sonny stand there, a gun aimed at John from his waste.
A few gunshots had shut him up for life, Joey's head was clear from all problems, his father's killer was dead.

Assailant

 I still remember when things where peaceful. No war, no death, just people trying to get along in life. The universe just trying to survive. I was born on Mongoth, the most advanced civilization in the universe.
 The Mongothains were at war with the Androids. The Androids started out as mere servants, but decided to rebel. The war had started just when I was turning nine-teen, and I was just about old enough to join in the military. A few years of working with computer screens and galactic maps, I was promoted captain of all the Mongothain army.
 I had a clever idea to disguise a war ship filled with explosives as a Universal Transport. I was on the ship with about two hundred-fifty or so men. We slowly crept beside the Androids’ mechanized planet. If the ship explodes right now it wouldn’t reach the planet, so we had to move in a bit closer before abandoning the ship to let it explode right by the mechanized planet.
 We were closing in, trying not to stir up any suspicion. Then we saw green lasers coming from above our ship. Only one force in the entire universe uses green lasers; Kornans. My only conclusion was that the Kornans and Androids were working together.
 Green lasers kept hitting us with full blast. Then suddenly an alarm was triggered, it took me a while to figure it out but one of the lasers had hit the room where all of the explosives were being stored. Out from the hallway into the bridge, came a burst of flame. The pain was so intense that I blacked out.
 I woke up and my eye and lungs felt like they were on fire. I looked around and saw that I was in space. I couldn’t breathe; I felt my right arm was missing along with my right leg; my left hand was missing, my torso had been blown open and worst of all my head had been partly blown open. My left eye was missing along with my nose. My internal organs were badly burned. What a crappy way to die I said to myself.
 I started to fade when I saw out of the corner of my eye, there was a man. I turned my head to look expecting it to be a piece of debris. It actually was a man; he was in a space-suit and put a tank of oxygen to my mouth. I faded and thought I really had died.
 I woke up in a bed and doctors of some sort were sitting all around me. I pushed myself up with my right arm. Wait. Right arm? That was blown away in the explosion. I swung my arm in front of me and saw that the robotic arm. Then I realized I was seeing with two eyes. I felt my torso and noticed that my lungs weren’t burning anymore. I sat up on the edge of the bed and saw my new right leg and new left hand. By now I was pretty scared but relived.
 I asked one of the doctors to come to me. One of them came to me and I asked him “Were there any survivors?” He looked down. Getting angry by him not answering my question I grabbed his shirt with my robotic arm and pulled him closer to me “WERE THERE ANY SURVIVORS?!” He shook his head. I let go of him and he sat back down. I held my head in my hands.
 They said they wanted to do some tests to make sure every piece of metal was working properly. They put me into a tank that looked like a scanning room. Suddenly a burst of electricity shot into my torso. It lasted for about fifteen seconds.
 I felt like lashing out, so I did. I realized that I was levitating to the ends of the tank. This made me think and forget all about lashing out. I tried to go up and I did. They put a block of steel inside the tank. “What do you want me to do with this?” I asked.
“Levitate it.” I shrugged and tried to make the steel cube soar. I got it about five feet off the ground and decided to have a little fun so I crushed it.
They told me to think of fire. I thought they couldn’t be anymore blunt so I did, I thought of a burning fire. When I opened my eyes I saw that I had fire style armor around me. Fire helmet, shoulder pads, chest armor, everything. Then they told me to think of other elements; water, air, rock, lightness, darkness. I got through water, air, and rock pretty easily, but lightness was a bit more challenging. They told me this form would be very difficult to transform into. I tried my hardest but got nowhere. The told me to go onto the last one, darkness. I thought of black an then I felt a sharp pain in all of my joints. I felt my teeth getting sharper, my eyes became black, horns started to grow from my forehead.
I tried to fight this form but it equally matched my will power. Purple lightning was being thrown everywhere. I gathered up enough will power and the symptoms resided. I sat down and I touched the top of my head and there were no horns. I sighed
Suddenly the doctors came rushing in and put a gas mask around my mouth and where my nose use to be. I tried to resist but the gas that was coming into my lungs was over powering and I fell asleep.
I woke up and felt that I had a helmet on. I looked in the mirror that was on the wall. I did have a helmet on but one side had a kind of eye that was like a scope. I could zoom-in on objects. On my right hand, there was a claw. It was like a finger claw, each finger being ten inches long. I had new shoulder plates, forearm and shin armor, and torso armor. And I had a cape. The inside was red and the outside was white.
I still had sharp pains in my joints but they weren’t as sharp as before. I asked the doctors why they had put the suit on me. They said that the darkness power that they put into me was trying to take control of my body, mind, and soul.
I was surrounded by doctors when the sharp pain came back. Purple lightning poured from under my suit. I could feel my teeth becoming sharper again. I actually fainted, and don’t remember much after that.
I woke up and I was in the dead of space, there was no debris. I could survive now because the suit had special filters that take in any gas, and turn it into oxygen. My bionic eye predicted Mongoth’s orbit around the sun and told me where to fly to get there. I know most of the space-way from knowledge, and from training. I started to fly using my supernatural powers. I was going home.
I flew for a few hours and finally I got to where my bionic eye had told me to go. There was not