Waiting
By
Jessika King


In a world where I am poor, I am rich.
Born into a family that has nothing, no toys, no proper housing, and not enough food to feed their four children. I am one of those four children, the youngest of all.

I am not rich, I own nothing, nothing worth the value of money. My family is my wealth, my toys, my everything. In a world where I have nothing, my family stands before me and therefore I am mistaken. This makes me the richest person in the world.

Each night my mother places me in my old wooden bed, with covers made from old rigid cloth filled with dirt and leaves to keep me warm throughout the night. Each night I lay in that old wooden bed next to my sisters and as I fall asleep, I listen to the sounds of the wind brushing upon our little house made of tin. I listen to the animals crying in the background, crying out of hunger. I cry every day for that same reason. I listen to my mother’s footsteps as she walks around our little house of tin tucking me in. But what I listen to the most, and I know one day I will miss, is the sound of my mother’s beautiful voice as she sings to me right before she kisses me before I fall asleep.


Tonight my mother did the exact same thing she did every night right before we went to sleep. As she sang to us I started to fall asleep to the sound of my her gentle voice and her soft kisses along with the sound of hungry animals and the wind hitting against our house of tin. I finally fall asleep listening to my mother’s beautiful song as she slowly and quietly walked away from me and my sisters.

As I wake from my peaceful sleep, I didn’t find myself lying under the roof of our house of tin, in my old wooden box, with old rigid cloth filled with dirt and leaves covering me to keep me warm. Instead I found myself climbing from beneath that tin I once called my home, moving bits and pieces around trying to break free from its clutches. I found myself scratched and bruised, I found myself alone.

I looked out in the distance studying the surroundings that were once familiar to me. What used to be my world, looked different, looked like someone had smashed every ones tin houses to the ground. I looked at the ground that was covered in rubble, and for some strange reason, covered in broken lakes of water. I had no idea where I was and what had happened, I am just a child. I searched the distance for anyone, anything not destroyed, but after everything, I still found myself alone, confused and afraid. I sat where I had first discovered my new surroundings made of rubble and lakes, on top of the tin that was once my house and cried. I cried for days.


As I cried, I set about looking for anything, anything that could comfort me. My family had gone, disappeared and I did not know why. At night time I find myself falling asleep where my house of tin used to lie and this is where I found myself awaking. Every night I was cold, I was hungry and I was scared.

Each night I fell asleep remembering how rich I was, I was rich as could be. But now I have nothing, I have no-one and everything around me made me unhappy. I fell asleep listening to the sounds of the wind, though this time I did not listen to the sounds of animals in the background crying for hunger. I did not fall asleep listening to the sounds of the wind hitting our house of tin. I did not feel my mother’s soft kisses, nor did I hear her sing that beautiful song she used to sing to me and my sisters right before I dozed off to sleep. Instead I listen to my own tears, I listen to the wind, only this time bare and frightening. This time the wind hit my face, scaring me and making me cold. The wind scraped against the rubble making howling noises that my mother would have once saved me from. This time I fell asleep alone.

I woke in the same place I did the first time I climbed from beneath the rubble. I looked around at the same familiar place that I had a few days ago, wondering why the house’s of tin lay beneath lakes of water and rubble. Though this time I looked out at my world and I was not alone.

A man appeared from beyond the rubble, carefully climbing towards the tin that was once my home. A tall man dressed in the colour’s of the trees. He seemed to be crying and as I watched the man carefully step closer towards me, I watched him pick up my fragile body from beneath the rubble that I thought I had just climbed out from. I looked fragile and empty in the mans arms as he held my body carefully. I looked asleep, I looked carefree and silent but right now I was wide awake and crying. I wondered how this man could pick me up and not see me standing at his feet, I wondered how he could not hear my tears as they ran like a waterfall down my cheeks.

This man looked at my lifeless body and cried, he turned behind him looking at another man dressed in the colours of the trees. He too cried as he looked at my fragile and silent body. I heard the man whimper to the other “she’s dead”, the tsunami hit here hard’.

I did not understand what that man dressed in the colours of the trees had just said to other one. I was a child without anything of value. I was now no longer rich, but poor. I still walk alone amongst the rubble. I stayed a child alone, forever waiting to hear the voice of my mother singing that beautiful song that she once sang to me right before she kissed me to sleep and walked slowly, quietly and forever weightlessly from our house of tin.

Fallout

A blurred sky, hazy, ghastly in its attire. A desolate barren landscape, vast and tragic. The site of something terrible. Flashes of panicked people. We are running, roughly and hastily through the horrid landscape, and way over in the distance, i see movement. It comes closer, rapidly it draws in. A raging beast – a mutant. Shrieks of terror, gun fire – Blank.

I lift my head of my desk. The same dream again. Or is it a memory. I can't tell. Nor can I comprehend it. Every time it occurs I must try desperately to hold onto it. I want to examine it further, know where it is, when? However, the thought expands no further.

I clasp the arms of my swivel chair and spin - I am easily distracted. I must study for my history test, yet lack the motivation - My body sways in and out from my changing center of gravity, i thrust my feet off the ground. I go faster. I drag my feet in and the spinning increases. The cold steel walls become a blur. I like it this way, i don't feel so enclosed. I feel as if I am in the air, sky bound - I spread my arms and legs to fly. Bad idea, this throws me way off equilibrium and the chair slide from under me. I fall on the floor.

Ow! God damn! Why is everything in this room so hard? I lift my self off the steel floor, lift the chair back up, then take my history book with me onto my bed. I bet they had the good sense to carpet their floors back in 2075, i think as i read a document for a case study. 'I reckon it should only be a few years until humanity can emerge from the vaults again, until the radiation of World War 3 has cleared off and the 'cleansers' have rid the earth of vile mutants'.- Paul Dermody 2075. More than a few years later 2209...we're still here, the cleansers are have failed and the mutants own the world – Man, this Paul guy got it so wrong. Vault 101 sucks!

Maybe that's what the vision is? Its the future. Perhaps I escape from this fruitless and repetitive life. Explore the outside world. World? The very idea of a world is unfamiliar to me! This place does nothing but frustrate me! I need to be free. How does everybody else put up with this place? Perhaps it's the narcotics they put in our bread. Perhaps I’ll go on a violent rampage - kill all my childhood bullies. Of course I’ll have to save a bullet for my Dr Harnsburger, the fool responsible for the death of the mother I never knew. It was him that caused the last break-in, who allowed the super mutants to run rampant through the vault! Who is on the outside now living the life I have always dreamed of! I swear I’ll find him and feed him to the rancid beasts.

But what about Amanda? I'm almost certain she likes me now... Why else would she have agreed to sacrifice her maths grinds to go to the cinema with me. Well, there were other people in my vision! Maybe she comes with me... we find a place in this ravaged world free from the mutants and live out our lives happily together. Perhaps the Caribbean, what business would a mutant have lying under the sun, enjoying life. No, there all in some place miserable, like Ireland. So the plan is to find a Caribbean Island, build a pirate ship and sail the world. I and Amanda and our 16 pirate babies will be perfectly happy while everybody here suffers there futile lives! I dose off to sleep thinking of how pretty she is, with her soft facial features yet deep , darting blue eyes. She is my only ray of sunshine in this desolate dull vault.

KLAXONS! My eyes snap open and the pulsing red light glares in through the window shutters. The fear provoking alarm is deafening, its immediacy piercing my ear drums. I am dumbfounded, the weight of fear, an immovable obstacle. What do I do? Is this another break in? I calm myself; I remember how my father so persistently outlined how crucial it is to keep a level head in the event of a break-in. Then remembering my father I begin to question, where is he? Why am I the only person in the house? ...Perhaps he had a late shift in the lab.

My plan appears clear to me now. ‘The cargo bay, no matter where anybody else is going, make your way to the cargo bay’. This is what my father always told to do if he wasn’t around. The panic in the corridor, outside my house ensures me of the gravity of the situation. I take a look at the picture of my family, a picture from when I was only two and my mother was still alive, a cherished possession of mine. Placing it in my pocket I step outside to the corridor feeling I’m ready to go.

‘Foreign bodies detected, please make your way to the nearest assembly point,’ I hear the intercom repeat, this time all the more clearly. A man holding his son rushes by me as the pulsing red light illuminates their worried faces. That could have been my father and I 14 years ago I think to myself. I hesitate no further and speed in and out of terrified families making my way to my destination. Swerving around corridors the adrenalin keeps me agile. A blistering pace, I turn another corner – Bang, I slam into a body. We both fall on the ground.
‘Amanda! I’m so sorry’, I cry.

‘Jesus Paul! Where are you going? The assembly point is that way!’ she groans, holding her arm in pain. ‘No it isn’t, my dad said we should go this way’, I insist. She hints my sight to all the other families turning off at a different corner. Bewildered I pause,’ but the cargo bay is this way?’… Suddenly a deep grunting roar bellows down that very corridor. I look back at her with a look a shock and despair, also mimicked on her face. We both run in the only sensible direction, towards the cargo bay, our senses all heightened as we go. Loud terrified shrieks sounding behind as somebody is presumably eaten. ‘Holy shit!’, Amanda bellows, ‘We’re dead!’.

After a long sprint we reach the far end and mostly uninhabited part of the vault. We enter a massive room with a tall ceiling; our vision impeded the stacked crates aligned into long aisles. We are alone with nothing to hear but the distant alarm far off. There mustn’t be any mutants here I figure since the lights and alarm aren’t on.

‘Why is there nobody else here’ she whimpers, ‘we’re obviously not meant to be here’
‘C’mon, I know where to go’, I ensure her, my voice echoing with the vastness of the room. I hold her hand and lead the way through the makeshift hallways to the far left corner of the room where the supplies lift is situated. We step in and close the shutter behind us. I activate the lift which elevates us about ten metres to the ceiling from where we have a bird’s eye view of the entire cargo bay.

‘Right, we’re safe’, I gasp only now recovering my loss of breath.
‘Now what?’ she pants.‘Well I guess we wait’, I say assuredly. We both sit in the corner. Slowly she huddles in close to me. ‘I’m sorry for doubting you’, she confesses. 'Oh, its grand! I wouldn't trust a fool like me either'. 'Your not a fool, your a hero, your my hero!' She grins. We laugh. 'Oh shocks Amanda, your embarrassing me', I mock. 'But yeah, if we do make it through this... Your buying the cinema tickets! I laugh. She slaps me awkwardly with yet playfully with a look of shock on her face, 'oh my god, how can that be the only thing your thinking of?' she returns. 'OK! I'm sorry... but I did save your life!' My dream seems all the more real to me. Somehow all of this madness will lead to our escape. I know it.

Suddenly the Klaxon sound again and a light in the centre of the room blazes into spinning red fury. My heart shoots into my throat. ‘Oh shit, shit… Shit’ Amanda cries backing herself against the edge of the lift. ‘Foreign bodies detected…’ that voice of doom again declares. A grizzly, vile mutant throws himself though the window into the bay from the control room. In a guerrilla like fashion roars so is presence is known. He is soon followed by a multitude of equally horrid creatures with fresh blood dripping from their mouths. They trash through the room smashing over crates on a violent rampage in search humans. I despair in fright knowing we are the only food they will find here! Closing in one of them gets the bright idea to climb the lift cables. The grunts of fury and the banging against the wall on which pivots himself upwards from let us know this is the end. I hug Amanda who his weeping at this stage.

Just then the door we’d hardly noticed was there, slams open from the back of the lift. Natural sunlight bursts in silhouetting a man, wielding a semi-automatic rifle! As is the situation couldn’t become more clichéd he immediately rushes in hangs over the railing, slams a few bullets into the mutants head, turns to us and says ‘pleased to see me’, just before the mutants crashes to the ground! Absolutely dumb founded I cannot muster any words. ‘Should I shoot her too? She seemed to be eating the face of you!’ he laughs! 'Why so serious kid, ha ha, come this way. We better go before the rest find their way up!'

Dumbfounded, we hastily scurry out through the light filled doorway. At first the powerful brightness seres my eyes with blindness. However they soon adjust. The view is totally epic to me, like nothing I have ever witnessed. The first thing I notice is the vastness, by far it’s the furthest my eyes have had to focus, something that initially I can do. As all the distant details become clear I am further astounded! It is just like in my dream, how can this be? I need answers yet cannot summon the words for questions! He guides us to climb into is strange looking vehicle. I breath in the free air.

'I'm guessing your a little confused Paul. Well listen up cause it gets even more so'
'I'm listening', I respond curiously, trying to put a name on this familiar face.
'First let me introduce myself. He extends a hand Dr Harnsburger's the name'.
I push back against my seat, the name is instantly familiar and everything clicks. 'Dr. Harnsburger? You killed my mother!'
'Oh no! I've got to explain that too. OK, first of all, this was all planned!'
'What, you planned to kill all those innocent people?!' Amanda bellows
'No, oh man, I'm no good at this! He responds. 'Maybe I'll just let your mam and dad explain!
'What they're alive!
'Yes, that's one of the things I was going to explain. They're back at the bunker. OK, I'l explain if you don't interrupt'
'OK, go on' I say enthusiastically.
'You see, 14 years ago, when your mother and I disappeared… She didn’t die… No what happened was, we tried to make an escape. All of us your mother,father me and you. However Things went wrong, we were followed by vault guards! As we ran into the barren wasteland, there gunfire attracted a super mutant, it attacked us and while the guards did managed to kill it, yourself and your father were captured.'

Dr Harnsburger's words invoke my dream, every word fits. Everything makes sense - It's a memory! He goes on to explain some intricate details of how my father and I had to wait in the vault until a new plan could be made to free us. However, all I can think about is freedom. The freedom I have always dreamed of.

Please respond to 'Fallout' by e-mailing me at Cptnred@hotmail.com
Thanks in advance!

Edited by author 02-20-2009 06:51 PM
***Hi, I'm new to the site, I've written this from a struggling woman perspective, I'd appreciate any comments/criticisms....***

How do I feel? I really wish I knew, since my best friend told me that he's fallen in love with me, wants to marry me and have my

children I've been confused not to say the least.

Once I would have shrugged it off and never thought about it again and right now I wish to God I could do it, but as I get older and go

out with more and more men who turn out to be unsuitable I am left with the question, is this the man I really SHOULD be with?

I know him inside out, upside down and back to front, I know his temprement, his moods, the way he acts in company and behind closed

doors. I also know that everyday at least once he will moan to me about his dogs jumping around the house manically, but then I also know

about his manic depression and the little things that annoy the hell out of him and also the things that make him laugh and smile.

This really makes me wonder what I should do and where my life should lead, I have a boyfriend, who I love very much but he lives 200

miles away and things are getting a bit stale, because we very rarely get to see each other.

My parents joke that I should be with Paul, but it always makes me wonder if there is some underlying agenda deep down. His parents

like me, even his sister likes me. My own boyfriend's mother can't stand the sight of me let alone start to like me, she poisons Matt's

mind against me and rules his life. I know he wants me to move there to be with him but without some form of commitment first how do I

know that his mother won't convince him just to walk away? I can't and this alone worries me.

As I sit here debating what could potentially be the key to the rest of my life I wonder why I can't I just be one of these people who

can just - go with the flow.

Matt is a fantastic man and I really do love him more than I've ever loved anyone else, but since I've found myself dealing with Paul's

confession I have to admit my head is going around and around. It feels like it's full of bees buzz, buzz, buzz....

There are only two ways I can deal with all my mixed emotions at the moment, the first which is exactly what I've tried to do on a daily

basis is, to ignore them.

The second - try to come to terms with the information I've been given and use it as an advantage.

Are these two things completely impossible? Yes I think that for me they are!

So now I have to decide, do I move 200 miles away and be with my boyfriend, or do I stay here with my best friend and eventually let

myself be drawn to him like a moth to a flame?

I've always been a strong willed, stubborn and passionate woman, the truth is men don't realise it's just with them it's also deep inside of

myself, once I've decided on something I won't back down until the end is in sight and I know I'm going to get what I want!

The problem - I have absolutely no idea what I want.

I love my boyfriend to pieces, literally to pieces it feels/or felt like he was almost a part of me until we started to have our problems,

now I've been told if I don't move then things will never progress which I think is rather mean but there we go...

I also love my best friend, as I thought until recently platonically, but do I really want to move away from him, my other friends and my

family and sacrifice my happiness all for one man who at the moment doesn't seem entirely right, when this could be the one I've been

looking for all along?

Now this wouldn't have been half as hard of a decision to make if it wasn't the fact I've been pretty darn depressed since just after

Christmas, I don't know if it's the credit crunch, the end of the holidays or Matt and I not getting on too well due to bereavement of his

Grandpa (or that's what I've been blaming it on).

I know anyone can say, 'oh yeah I'm a bit down lately' but it's gotten to the stage where I can't hide it anymore, my family and friends

are noticing, and it's making me do crazy things I wouldn't normally do, what you ask?

Had the argument or arguments with said best friend, and threw a pan at him, funny - yes, nice - certainly not, I don't know why I did it

and I probably never well, arguing and throwing things isn't really my style but it seemed to have shocked him into remission in any case,

it seems to have kept him off my back about the whole 'Love' thing for a while.

In any case thoughts and feelings are just that, they can be overcome can't they? If I want to be with Matt I just have to get over the

whole 'buzzing head thing' to do with Paul and move on, that's what I've been trying to do, but I guess thoughts and feelings can't be

overcome as easily as I initially thought.

So for now, it's back to the drawing board!

please respond to Lindsey786@talktalk.net, thanks guys x

please read and respond to tonymad16@gmail.com, thank you

                             Hell on Earth

                                                
“What the hell is this?” officer Peterson said as he gazed around the dimly lit room. He took out his small notebook, and began to jot down several pages of notes. Young girl, probably twenty-something, mutilated, satanic ritual? The room was crowded with throngs of morticians and detectives, all of them equally horrified. For the first time he gazed at the body or what was left of it, and his hands began to tremble, her face was locked in a twisted gaze of pure terror. Her stomach was torn open and her entrails littered the room like uncoiled snakes, and when Peterson kneeled closer to examine the body, he noticed that her eyes had been torn out; the hollow sockets were fairly beautiful in their infinite blackness.

      Now why would he do that he thought, are we dealing with a possible trophy killer? “Doug?” a voice from behind him echoed, and Peterson twirled around and his good friend, Alex Smith stood before his eyes. “Pretty messed up” Smith stated, “No possible motive, maybe the guy just got a sick thrill out of watching her squirm.” Doug and Alex had been friends throughout high school, and had slowly drifted apart after traveling to separate colleges, Alex to Holy Cross, and Peterson to UCLA to study criminal justice. However, they had both decided to join the force together and it had rekindled their relationship, somewhat, the two never really saw things eye to eye. Watching Smith, with his thick-rimmed glasses and the cigarette fumes dancing in the air in front of his face, Peterson realized things between them hadn’t really changed. “Well,” Peterson said “I don’t see how this crime couldn’t have been anything but deliberate, this girl had a lot of enemies, any one of them could have-“ A loud, bloodcurdling scream erupted from the closet, up to that point, the thought hadn’t even dawned upon him to check the closet in the first place. “Somebody open the door!” one of the cops screamed, Peterson bolted across the room, and with all his weight, threw himself against it, it didn’t even budge. “For the love of God SOMEBODY HELP ME!” the voice screamed. It took all of his might to get the door to open, and after he did, Peterson almost wished he had kept the door closed. A young man, whom Peterson correctly assumed was her boyfriend, lay huddled in the corner of the closet, his fingernails were corroded and bloody, and apparently he had tried to gouge out his own eyes, for his facial skin and eyelids were covered in a brilliant scarlet. See no evil, he kept repeating to himself, and then, the man began to shout. “It killed her!” he screamed, “it’s was as pale as a dead man’s and its eyes shone like the very fire’s of hell itself. And the sound, oh God the sound, it ate her.” He screamed again, “have you ever heard the noise of someone’s face getting ripped off, it’s almost like your tearing cardboard. And her scream came from a voice that sounded like it was underwater. And before Peterson could do anything, the man bellowed one final time, pulled out a silver knife from his waist pocket and cut his own throat. The blood that erupted from the open wound reminded Peterson of the taffy factories he used to visit as a child, there was so much brilliant red being pumped from those machines, just like now, Peterson thought to himself. He watched the man release several more ragged gasps, and after a final convulsion, the man’s body shaking with such force the very earth trembled beneath their feet, the man finally lay still.

      Peterson stood in the dimly lit room, sweat pouring profusely down his brow, “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. The policemen and morticians were starting to leave now, their haggard forms exiting through the doorway. Peterson could not move, he could not think, he stood entranced in front of the man’s crumpled body. Blood still poured in raging torrents from the gaping hole where his neck used to be. How could somebody tear out their own throat right in front us? Peterson thought to himself. He finally decided he must leave; he must get away from the smell of cigarette smoke and the stench of decay. Peterson took one final glance towards the unknown female’s body, and recoiled in disgust, an enormous rat, about the size of a cat had embedded itself within the girls torn open chest cavity. There was an audible chewing sound as the rat commenced to devour her insides. “Holy hell” Smith exclaimed, he lunged at the grotesque creature and gave it a solid kick to its side. The rat was catapulted across the room, when the thing recovered its equilibrium, it only hissed at the two men and slowly sauntered off, bits of the women’s entrails still hung from its mouth like ragged strands of rope. “I have to go” Peterson said, Smith was the only one left in the room, he stood solemnly smoking a cigarette, the dim amber flame was the only illumination in the room. “All right, I have to pee, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you” was all Peterson could say, he suddenly felt a wave of nausea passing over him. He opened the door, stumbled into the bathroom, and vomited on himself, his puke was dark in color, and faintly reminded him of the young man’s blood spurting out onto the dark floor. His recollection of that image caused him to puke again; when he was finished he found his car, turned it on and left. He needed to see his family, he thought, Peterson managed to gaze at the night sky and it was raw and dark, no stars illuminated the sky, it looks like I’m gazing into hell, he thought.

      It could clearly smell the man’s flesh, it smelled like fresh meat. The sweat that emanated from his body made him smell all the sweeter. He gazed at the man and decided it wasn’t ready to go for the kill yet, the fear helps marinate the meat, it thought. It would wait; wait until he was reduced to a shriveled husk on the floor, curled up like a fetus inside the mother’s womb, then it would gut him, and make sure he was alive as he was being consumed. It was going to be a great hunt tonight.

      Smith could gaze at the mutilated corpses no longer, he had the sudden urge to piss and he had to make it home soon or his bitch of a wife or she was going to have his head. He stepped out of that Godforsaken room and quickly gazed out the window, Christ its dark out there, he thought to himself. The snow had hit them hard this season and the idiot meteorologist only predicted more. The snow created a white veil across the window, thin strands of ice clung desperately to the window, and Smith could only make out thin outlines of the city, they look miniature from so far a distance. He really had to piss now; he went into the dimly lit bathroom and began to relieve his bladder. When he finished he turned around and saw hell staring him in the face. Its face was rotted and rows of teeth jutted out of its mouth in a grotesque smile. It claws made a metallic clink on the floor and it reached for him. Smith ran, it was the only thing he could do. He sprinted into an adjacent closet and began to pray, our father who art in heaven, the footsteps began to recede to, but he could still hear it breathing. Hallowed be thy name, the door hinge slowly began to turn, thy kingdom come, no one was outside. Smith sighed, got up and drew his .45 for protection. Before he could even think it was on him, ravaging him, taking pleasure in his screams. Its grimy hands closed around his shriveled manhood, and it pulled. Smith did not know how loud he screamed, but no one came to save him. The creature was holding his genitals in one hand and its jaws slowly closed around his head, and as his head were being crushed like an overripe melon, his life was destroyed equally as fast

      It enjoyed his languish, wished it could bathe in it, the gelding was always the most satisfactory part, taking man’s most precious organ and devouring it before his eyes gave him an unyielding satisfaction. Feeling the blood seep from the man’s head onto his jaws, the tart taste that accompanied it, never failed to arouse it. It sat next to this man’s body feasting, the only thing on its mind was the fact that there was more killing to be done, more bodies to maim, and more faces to see paralyzed by terror and desperation.

      Peterson’s car whisked into his driveway silently, the snow continued to fall in abundance, and he could just barely make out the light emanating from the upstairs window, and his wife’s visage staring at the car intently behind a veil of white snow. Peterson turned off his car and proceeded to walk inside, suddenly a thought accrued to him, why the hell is she still up? He thought, its one o’clock in the fucking morning, unless she’s expecting something. This particular thought, which usually aroused much excitement throughout his entire cortex, especially his lower part, only seemed to sicken him tonight. The idea of sex on a night like tonight, after so much death, did not interest him the least bit tonight. When he stepped inside, the house was as silent as a cemetery; the kid’s pictures littered the walls in various different places, their smiling faces and sunny dispositions reminded Peterson of a time and a place that were entirely behind him, he no longer experienced even a fledgling feeling of joy, his once healthy mind, once bountiful with the fruits of happiness, is now a barren landscape where an unrelenting sun casts its rays of light on a barren and decrepit landscape. Peterson was still musing about his lost vitality when he entered his wife’s bedroom, and was slightly shocked to find her scantily clad in tight fitting lingerie underwear. She stood before him erotically, before he could even react she was on him, in between her kisses she said “I missed you so much honey, I was sooooo worried.” Peterson had to squint, for her breath stank of cheap whiskey and Marlboro cigarettes. “I was working” Peterson said, clearly agitated, “That’s beside the point anyway, and how much have you had to drink tonight?” “Oh not that muuuch” she cooed. “I just love you so much” she stated. At this point, she was gently stroking his chest and making her way downwards, his face was now inundated with the stench of the liquor that was cascading from her mouth. She then began to kiss him, with just the type of passion you would expect from a drunken housewife. He submitted, and let her lay on top of him; he drifted off to sleep to the sound of a winter evening, and his wife’s soft hand gently caressing his tired and broken body.

Peterson awoke in the middle of the night, cold sweat tricked down his forehead, and he heard his wife’s heavy breathing at his side. The clock read 3 A.M., and from downstairs he thought he heard a low growl, similar to something a small cat would make only just before it was about to pounce on his prey. Only this sound was much deeper and the metallic scraping on the floor which was slow and heavy, only seemed to increase with each passing second. The ragged breathing drew even closer to the upstairs hallway, and it was then that a terrible thought crawled its way into his head. The kids! He thought, they were still sound asleep in their fucking beds with that thing outside, but his entire body was overcome with a sudden feeling of terror, and he simply lay in his bed, praying. He heard his daughter utter a small sound; this was followed by complete silence. The next thing Peterson knew, he was standing upright, fingers groping for his pistol, which he always kept beside his bed, just in case. He found what he had been searching for, and burst through his bedroom door, his mind filled with the horrid fantasies he was sure he would soon discover. The first thing Peterson noticed was that his kids door was ajar, the nightlight he bought for the two a few years back cast a sickly purple glow inside the room. Peterson burst into their room, revolver in hand, but the only thing that greeted him was Sam and Abby’s terrified faces. “What are you doing?” they asked him, “nothing” he said, “just go back to sleep. Peterson exhaled a long sigh of relief, and turned his back to walk out of the room. As if out of nowhere, a searing flash of bright white light temporally blinded him and the sound that accompanied it were his children’s high pitched screams. Peterson tried desperately to regain his vision, and he saw a large portal that was releasing a deafening sound from it’s opening, similar to standing next to a jet engine at take off. His eyes fell upon his children, and Peterson could only watch in terror as several large creatures, with hair as black as midnight, and a large head with a gaping mouth which dozens upon dozens of razor sharp teeth protruded from. They were clawing at his children, and there was so much blood, it seemed to flood the entire room. Peterson noticed the doll he had bought Abby for her birthday, stained red with her own blood. This isn’t real, it can’t be real he thought to himself. He sprinted away from the atrocious scene and opened the door to his wife’s room, and the creatures were on her as well, blood was pouring out of her every orifice, and her high pitched screaming only added to the cacophony of noise that was already taking place. Suddenly, he felt a tight grip around his neck, and felt excruciating pain as several claws began to dig into the flesh at the nape of his neck. This sudden feeling of pain was followed by darkness, something which Peterson was extremely thankful for.

He awoke chained to a stone table, in a large, dimly lit cavern. The first thing he heard, were dozens, no millions of screams. He then gazed upward and saw millions of emaciated human beings nailed to black crosses. There were old and young men and women, along with what seemed to be children, although their bodies were all to deformed to be given an exact age. They were all wailing, one cross chained to the other, they seemed to cover the entire cavern. It was at this point that the thin reel of film that was Peterson’s sanity began to whither and burn away. He no longer knew what the word reality meant, he had taken up shelter within his now fractured psyche where the endless amount of horrors he had been exposed to no longer affected him. Peterson then noticed the same creatures that had murdered his family were now approaching where he lay, they were clad in black robes, and several of them appeared to be carrying a large slab on their backs, similar to what he was laying on. Oh my God! He thought, because it was at that very moment Peterson noticed that it was his wife who lay on the stone slab, prostrate, and moaning with agony. She appeared to be pregnant, and her stomaching was vibrating rapidly. The demons dropped the stone, and gathered around his wife’s body. The thrashing continued and her stomach seemed to thrash more and more with each passing second. Suddenly, Peterson understood everything, I’m in hell he thought, and Smith is dead, I can see him screaming with the rest of those dammed things hanging from those crosses. Everything is clear now; the young girl was killed because she must have seen those creatures somewhere. Her boyfriend clawed out his own eyes to prevent himself from seeing those things and suffering the same fate as her. They killed Smith because they didn’t want anyone to investigate any further. They must have followed me home and found my wife, knowing she would be able to bear them a new child in order to continue this wretched race. Blood and clear fluid began to seep from his wife’s stomach, it was boiling as if it was being heated and her skin began to stretch with such ferocity, that it began to tear. But what exactly is this place? Peterson thought, calm and collectively. It was at this moment he noticed a thin light trickling down from above, he heard footsteps, human footsteps, and heard the honking of horns and the familiar cursing and yelling that always accompanied heavy traffic. “Heeelp!” he screamed, but no one seemed to hear him, even though a passerby appeared to gaze down at him and smile, it was as if they were outright ignoring his cries for help. Then Peterson noticed that what he had been gazing up at was a storm drain, and it was then he understood the nature of the universe and the meaning of human existence. It’s some sort of conspiracy, these creature feed on humans like cattle, feed off of the people society no longer deems valuable, whores, criminals, beggars, you name it. The government must know about these creatures too, but allowing them to devour the undesirable persons in their country not only keeps the creatures appeased, it keeps the rest of the world happy as well. We exist to be eaten, like cattle, like cattle. Peterson keep turning those words over in his mind as his wife’s stomach finally burst open like an overinflated balloon at a kid’s birthday party. He was still thinking as his wife gave out her last breath, dying covered in her own blood and various other bodily fluids. As the creatures scooped the hellish baby up from its mothers open womb, and laid it on Petersons chest, as the hell child began to tear open his stomach, and it felt the warm gush of blood, and tasted human flesh for the very first time, savoring each mouthful of his entrails, Peterson took great pleasure in the fact that he had finally figured everything thing out, and neither a man made hell such as this one nor demons or rats were ever going to hurt him where he was going, wherever that may turn out to be.

“This is the nature of the beast, to eat and be eaten.”- Clive Barker

Hey, would appreciate some opinions on this. Just email comments to Emily_Avian@yahoo.com. Please and Thank you! Oh, and sorry for grammer and spelling errors :)

                         A Forest With No Trees

     A man, an adventurer by occupation, who wandered wherever he pleased and obeyed only the whisper of temptation in his mind, had come to a city, brought by the whisper in search of his next unpaid job. If was a large city, full of people, and was just the sort of place that the man wished to be in at the time. No doubt his idea of the perfect place would change again soon, just as it always did every few weeks, but for now he craved the excitement of a city in which he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
 The man had been traveling all day and it was late when he entered the city limits. Exhaustion pulled at his eyelids as he steered his car down the streets and he decided to find a room at a cheap motel. After parking at a place that boasted low rates he went in, rented a room from the rather strange man behind the counter, and went to sleep in a none-to-comfortable bed still dressed in his clothes.
 Sleep was not a rest for the man though. Dreams accosted his brain in a storm. Confused, jumbled dreams that ran together in a mass. In the end several dreams became one long, ever-changing vision filled with fragmented memories and guilt-born images.
 He was on a lake of glass. The water was completely still around the little row boat he was in, the wooden bow slicing through the water like a hot ice cream scoop digging a sugary treat out of a carton for a waiting child. The air was warm without being hot and the most gentle of breezes stirred the hair on his forehead. It lifted the silky strands away from the face of the woman sitting across from him too.
 Vivian
 Sweet, sweet Vivian. She was a princess, she was a saint, she was an angel. Her red gold hair was precious metal made into soft wire and her hazel eyes were gems beyond worth. Her glowing, satin-skinned hands trailed in the lake, creating the slightest of ripples and she laughed as she watched a fish leap out of the water. He watched her, knowing deep in his heart that every day he didn’t spend with Vivian would be a day of the worst torture imaginable…
 The dream changed and instead of the perfect day on the lake it showed a wedding. It was a small wedding, outside, with just family and friends in front of an alter covered in flowers. The man waited there while Vivian, dressed in white and holding a bouquet of lilies, walked towards him, the dream added a rainbow nimbus of light around her, making her look unreal. Happiness willed up inside of him, so much he felt like he would drown in it and not minding it one bit if he did because, after all, what better time was there to die but at the happiest moment of your life?…
 There was another change and this time Vivian was shouting at him and he was shouting back. He knew that he would regret his words later, but he was so angry that he didn’t care. He watched as Vivian turned and left the room, slamming the door on the way out…
 Then there was Vivian again and there he was again and they were leaving a party. She was drunk and so was he, even though he knew he was supposed to drive. And then they were in the car and he was driving and headlights were shining into the windshield and into his eyes and there was a loud noise…
 He opened his eyes and there was a flurry of activity around him. He was being loaded onto a stretcher. He saw a paramedic kneeling by Vivian stand up, shake his head…
 Then the memories stopped coming and the man saw something new. He saw Vivian, but it wasn’t Vivian. The thing posing as Vivian, his Vivian, had dull, stringy hair and was sickly pale. It was too thin, gaunt, and the clothes it wore were little more than rags. It was turned away from the man so that he couldn’t see its face.
 The man knew that he didn’t want to see the thing’s face. He desperately wanted not to see its face. He tried to run, but there was no where to go. He was on a tower of rock so tall he couldn’t see the ground. He turned back to the Vivian-monster and it turned towards him.
 He screamed and fell back, nearly falling off the rock tower. The thing’s face was a morbid mockery of the face he had loved more than any other thing in the world. The eyes were gone, dark bleeding holes in a face hardly more than skin stretched over bones. The face was ghostly white, void of all color and covered in tiny cuts that were a shock of red. It was a face that belonged in nightmares, and it hardly belonged even there.
 Then it spoke, the words a twisted abomination of the musical tones of Vivian’s voice. It was a dry sound, speaking of the rustling of leaves in a darkened wood and footsteps in an empty house. He cringed at the sound, more at the subtle similarities that the terrible voice held to Vivian’s sweet one than at the differences.
 “You killed me.” It whispered, stepping towards him.
 The man trembled at the accusation, knowing it was true, feeling the guilt cutting into his heart. But he still denied it.
 “I didn’t kill you. You’re not Vivian.” His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.
 It laughed. “I shouldn’t be Vivian.”
 Tears came to his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”
 “You’ll never hurt another person.” It said, and rushed towards the man. And then he was falling down, down towards the non-existent ground…
 And he woke with a start, feeling as if he was landing after falling from a high place. He was soaked in a cold sweat and his heart was beating as if he had just ran a mile in a sprint. The room was silent. He was used to bad dreams about Vivian, but this one had been the worst. He lay there, waiting to calm down. When his heart beat slowed he got up and left the room. It was predawn, the sky a deep blue. The moment the man stepped out of the room he knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Shaking off the feeling, he went to his car and headed off to get breakfast.
 As he was driving it hit the man what was out of place.
 The city was empty.
 The man started to drive faster, searching for a person driving or jogging, but there were no signs of life, not one. He got out of his car and started to search apartments, breaking into one after another. He ran down the streets, shouted for help, dialed 911 on his cell phone. No one came. He didn’t see a soul.
 Finally, in the early morning, the man sat in the middle of an intersection that once would have been busy. He looked at the empty city, the unnatural, empty city. A city with no people was a forest with no trees. Something that was what it was, but was absolutely wrong in every way.
 The man sat in the intersection and didn’t look up when the cars appeared, moving as fast as they always did. He didn’t look up as they hit him. He didn’t even flinch
***
 “Miss, can you tell us what this man was doing?” a policeman asked a woman in her twenties. She seemed scared and was trying not to look towards the blocked off intersection. Every now and again she would catch a glimpse and would shudder.
 “I don’t know. He was running through the streets and screaming for help, but every time someone came near him he ran away. It was like he couldn’t even see them. And then he just sat in the intersection… I wonder what made the poor guy snap like that.”
 “I don’t know Miss.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Just Started writing this is a short one if anyone has any comments on how to improve this then email me at colm2811@hotmail.com

Battle For The Universe
End Of Times
Religious Short Story
Written By Kevin Gravel
Englehart Ontario, Canada


The year is 12012 and the earth's population and habitat are severely dissappearing. The remaining humans are hiding underground and packed plenty of supplies and were able to survive without no problem for about several years. God decided it was time to end evil and kill lucifer so that all universe will never feel and experience evil and feel bad energy. God sent ten million invulnerable super Humans (ISH) to earth to retreive the remaining humans.

But sadly when they arrived to the mountains they seen that the humans were gone. God told them they were captured by satans army and are now returning to earth to fight them. The date is September Friday the 13th and the Earth's final battle we'll be fought and will end all history of mankind. Lucifer plan's is to stay away from God far beneath from hell's realm in his palace, and send all his evil monstorous demons to earth to fight the ISH and with his evil powers enblocked all the humans in a place no human would want to be. The room is small and there is a thousand scary voices screaming and whispering. Each person is alone and must suffer till God or Jesus rescues them.

Satan also made a very powerful shield that god struggled to get through to see his soul, he was safe for now but eventually God will beat the evil and kill Lucifer. God transported his army to a large desert and told them they need to fight and he said you can kill them all, but it will take all your strength and wisdom, it will be difficult but it will be done, once completed I will crush lucifers head and vanish him into the atmosphere.

While the ISH were waiting the sun was blocked off and the earth was dark and the army of the dead was ready to fight then the earth shook and big monsters seventy feet high were rising and demons were running up from under the ground screaming kill "them all!" in dark screaching voices. God gave the soldiers abilities so they basically can do anything you think of. In the sky everything was approaching the earth and hitting the ground hard all sorts of spaceships and millions of demons running at the soldiers. Energy blasts of compressed bombs are flying and destroying the demons making them fly and explode very far away killing them off one by one but the soliders had to use other tactics to eliminate the demons.

The War went on and on night and day. Lucifer was getting scared because God's soldiers were killing his demons to fast to easily But Satan had an idea he rushed out of his hiding spot and quikly blocked space between earth with all his might so that God cannot contact his army. And without God the soldiers quikly become vulnerable so immediately the army of the dead began to kill the humans, God sent his angels to try and expose of the shield and Lucifer had to use all his strength to keep it in place. Satan remained on earth giving his demons his evil powered energy and the humans were praying while fighting. And God finally broke the shield and then angels then flew in fighting all the big demons were running in stomping on the humans but they would get right back up and kill them with energy cananons. Which are big bombs.

Satan then commanded God to come face to face with him and so he did and Lucifer told him " with all these souls in my veins you cannot dispose of me easily i have so much power i bet i destroy you" and God quickly told him loud and shook the sky he said" I invented you, so i can erase you just as easy as i can end this war." Satan then vanished from God's presense. The war continued and the demons were vanishing and for two more weeks the ISH killed all of satans demons. All the Evil soul's returned to hell's realm and were being re-energized and Satan was planning to do something to his army he was a god of darkness so he put his mind to it and he decided to make his army more stronger taking all the evil souls and turning them into demon energy for his army. All hell has no slaves but they have bigger stronger demons to fight the ISH.

The war was to be faught upon a couple of days the ISH were asked to travel NorthEast in swampy lands. They travelled through valleys all day and watched in the sky all the spaceships shooting eachother Angels and Demons. At the end of the night the ISH slept high up in the mountains. with patrol men watching for any intruders. The soldiers woke up and continued they're way to the destination to finally end the war between good and evil.

They arrived and all the demons were waiting their, hunderds and hundreds of acres they were waiting and bigger and fiercer then ever before. The army of dead were equipped with evil probed energy swords and also they're hands were force fields able to throw evil energy. They were no match for the ISH but it will take longer this time for them to end the far. The reason why Satan decided to risk it all is because he knows that God will win because he's simply God. The fight went forth and all hell broke loose and so did God's troops they were blasting them all way with their good probe energy swords. The earth's view from God's view, were cloudy with many colours. Once the war is terminated God plans to flood the earth and destroy earth once that is completed all humanity will be at peace with God in his kingdom.

The war went on for 2 years, evil will not give up on good and God is patient he is getting in lucifer's mind he's making him feel like he's in a dream he's making lucifer feel like a human and that is making lucifer feeling weak and unable to control his army and command what they need to do. The ISH are still able to fight without any problems and are killing the demons off very rapidly it is a war in which both sides will never forget, well of course the good side because they wont be extinct. Satan comes out of his hole and is fighting on earth with his army God is happy because soon it will be the end of evil.

On earth satan approaches an ISH he quickly munipulates him and is turning him into an evil soul, whisperring in his ear's the ISH member is twitching and falls to the ground. God's prescense comes to the fore and he says" The end is now, and now all evil is gone." all of satan's army is gone. Lucifer looks around and God crushes him. The ISH are all happy and can finally relax and do not half to woory.

God retreived his army and flooded the earth. God asked the soldier who was approached by lucifer if he was ok and God read in his eyes that he was telling the truth. God then created earth two which will now begin in time with humans on it first and no evil will walk the earth making it a world in which no problems will ever occur. But the soldier was lying and was lucifer in disguise as an angel he transported to the possesed soldiers body right before God crushed him.

He planned to sit in God's throne once again but as soon as he thought those thought's God sensed them he banished him from the face of God's kingdom and now all can rest.

Edited by author 03-25-2009 01:12 AM
                      
Dark Encounter

I am a cop. I am the law. I am a saviour of human rights. But today, today I feel like I am no one. Listen carefully to what I have to say because, this is the story of Him, of me.

It was a beautiful Wednesday morning; people in the metro were hastily walking towards their destination. I always observe them, wondering what they are thinking about. If you look close enough, you can see that they all have the same look; you know the one that people have in the morning before they get to work. These sad faces that pretend to read the newspaper because of their loneliness and, as time passes, they wake up to wonder how they got there so fast. I can’t reckon a time in my life where people I knew where happy about their accomplishments. Life is a long trip; you are always waiting to get to a better destination, but in the end, it is the journey which is beautiful. Some say the rain doesn’t fall long enough; sadly, I think so myself. I always do a bit of thinking before I begin my routine; it helps me forget why I am here doing this job.

I took a last sip of my coffee and threw it in the green garbage can near me, and then, I made my way through the crowd to get a glimpse at everything and everyone. My job consists of protecting people; usually from themselves. We don’t want any accident today. As I walked near the metro lane, I hear thundering screams echoing beside me.
Officer! said the woman close to me. There He was, standing near the edge ready to jump, my worst nightmare; the one thing that keeps me up at night. This is it I said to myself, time to prove to others that you are still worth something.

-Why are you doing this Mr? said I nervously.

-Oh you know why officer! He said grinning. Can’t you see all around you!

-Wha… What are you talking about?
- I am tired of all this, all these people pretending to be something while they are not, this world is falling apart, don’t you see? What do I have that is different from others? I can’t stand them smiling at each others like hypocrites and talking about there brainless reality shows when millions of people are dying and crying for our help. But no! We, little citizens adore comfort. Whatever the price some have to pay, we don’t care: as long as it’s not me. Now, give me one reason why I shouldn’t ascend to hell right now! What difference does it makes if I jump, other then slowing the stressed life of some dumb frogs.

I noticed he was shaking.

-A big one! Each human has some good inside of himself. See yourself as a flame in the dark, as a light in the horizon that can’t or shouldn’t be put out. It’s hard… I know. You are currently facing troubled times where hope isn’t just necessary, it’s the meaning of your life. I’m not asking you not to jump; I’m begging you.

-Think about it for Christ sake! He shouted. Even if a little hope floats in me, I feel like I can’t grab it. As if my arms where to short to grasp on this magnificent ideal.

-Don’t worry, a new day will dawn where the wind blows in your ear, whispering you what to do. However, you must be patient for that day to appear and you must find that patience in the hope you carry.

-Wrong. I’m tired of being useless!

A strange feeling grew deep within me. Who was He? I began to hear the sound of darkness echoing from the tunnel; it was coming. But then, his words stroke me like God’s voice. It finally made sense. My hands where trembling. Officer! cried the woman desperately. Truth came closer and closer and closer...

           Icem

Ps: Please... oh please comment. Iannacci8@hotmail.com

Your deep breath entrances me, your eyes closed, ignoring the beckoning of the world’s vivacious cries.

A peaceful energy surrounds you; it is in fact your soul, your aura, a passion so large that comprehension is only something to dwell upon for it has almost no chance in happening.

My hands, dry and burned, run across your body, trying to feel something real, something that will make me realize the intentions of life and love and what it is defined as—a purpose perhaps, a calling, or possibly a pursuit.

Inching onto your body, I tug softly at your hair, sliding back your head and whisper for you to arise, a warm breath sweeping past your ears.

I can only hope that you’ll hear me or at the very least feel my pressure upon your mass—is that too much to ask for?

And yet, you give me no sign of recognition, not a mummer nor a blink nor a smile, the same soft upturn of the lips that made me melt all those times before, the only feeling that proved my sanity—the reality of my mind.

Where have you gone? Your shell lays out before me, soaking the rays of the sweet sun and capturing the moon’s glowing shadows, but your inner being has vanished out of mind, out of sight.

I can no longer see; you have taken the ability away, along with the sensitivity of touch, of feel, a simple human sensation that you have stolen from me.

Curse you and your peacefulness—I wished only good things while you were away, but away you have been for too long. Now, resentment has soured my thoughts and I dare say, numbness will soon follow.

Please—I beg you, my love, return to my heart, fill your cocoon, the shell in which you have escaped from.

comment please!!

Perhaps it was the underlying venom that caused their hearts to momentarily remit with such pain, then subsequently harden in an enclosed shell, impenetrable to the unforgiving, harsh cruel world that had spawned and moulded their existence. . Perhaps it was this venom that tipped the scale of their hearts and so turned them. Infecting their brains with paralysis of reason, the same malignant force , that so devoids racists from reality and empathy. The serpent spoke with such audacity and plain conviction that the occupants of the taxi did not know how to react, “ what do you mean WE ? ” , he spoke with the same hatred and blind ignorance that erected the Berlin Wall, that induced genocide , murder , rape and pillage. That had caused so much grief and had fuelled so much hatred, that had been the philosophical inspiration that misery had built upon for as long as man could remember his past. Discrimination , intolerance , oppression. Theese words have contributed nothing to man throughout the vicissitudes of time , bar negativity and loss, leaving him in a worse state than he was found. Try telling that to a Glasgow cabbie as he alienates two young asian youths in the back of his cab. He also expects a tip as he holds out his hand at the of end of what the occupants would understate as an uncomfortable journey to say the least.

The young asian youth, kindley obliges by leaning forward with a strange uncomforting smile on his face, he looks the cabbie right in the eye, then leans forward tilting his head forward slightly, he opens his mouth simultaneously summoning a strange sound and then proceeds to spit in the cabbies hand, a great big dirty one ! “Not bad” He remarks to himself in a modest self critical tone.. “You dirty Paki bastard”, the cabbie exclaims with a look of combined disgust and contempt, his surprise and confusion of emotions and how to react next are exacerbated when the other occupant of the vehicle , slumps back down into his seat. The cabbie’s last glimpse is a picture of himself with a slit throat, a dark and light red mess across his neck and growing ever larger with blood erupting everywhere.

“Well that’s what the rascist Bastard get’s eh”, one of the youth’s says . “Aye that’s what the cunt gets for murdering my brother. , That’s what he gets for abducting him on his way home from school, that’s what he gets for being the fucking skinhead bastard who’s been tormenting my family for the past ten years, and that’s the cunt I’m going to spend the next 20 years for, contemplating and savouring the cold sweet dish of revenge. His speech turns to thoughts. His existence unsuccessfully tries to grasp reason and mortality, the concept of time and the minefield of morality. But true to his words all he can do is record with glee for the next twenty five years, how he got revenge of the person who abducted and killed his little brother …..

By h Mali.k

Four Letters by Cpk

My philosophy is a simple matter. I believe that pain is a mere affliction pressed upon society to distract one from the true course of events unfolding. No age, no size, no beauty, no gender, no race can elude pain. Pain is always felt, always has been, and always will be; inevitable. It sticks to one like glue would stick to one. Or preferably scotch tape for those liberals.

But there are downs to the beauty of pain. It may be no more than a four letter word, but it’s the most potent four letter word I’ve ever experienced. It has power and majesty. It brings nations to their knees, seeking vendetta. It makes the call for blood ever so ample. It makes me who I am… a cutter.

I cut. People see me as some person would look at some monster, or how some monster would look at some person. One may inquire why I cut… Don’t we all wonder? But all I can supply one with is another four letter word… L. O. V. E.

Its prodigious power could even quarrel pain. That is, if there is certainty that the love that one receives is sinuous and unbroken. But when eradicated and screwed with, the love river is vaporized, leaving endless fields of thorns and graves to rape the soul with depression and agony. Gray skies melt beauty and all rolls down poppy flowers. Drugs become necessities and blades become friends, friends become blades.

My apprehensive self gave me my first cut, my first scar. But the fault was all on Joey, another four letter word. No shocker there. He was the romance to my life, the peanut to my butter; my only long term association.
I met him through band, or technically called regiment. Regiment endowed me with pleasant memories and an escape from life at home; therefore any getaway or easy path out of my home gave me clear and instant satisfaction. Band was chill. I could show up to practice blue bellied and no one would torment me. This was incredibly enjoyable. I could be who I wanted to be without being hindered. However, the downfall to regiment was that obligatory practices were held every Tuesday night from four in the evening to ten at night. These practices were copious and forced me to pick up an instrument and play it well. Although they let me have my instrument of choice, being trumpet, this concept didn’t toot my horn; the stress of it was hard to swallow. But a man changed my mind. This man made all burdens and endeavors worthwhile.

This man’s name was Joey. He was rather average, but one thing set him apart from anything that God blew breath into. His eyes; they were like two brown, circular disks with black dots in the middle. They created a reason for my place in the regiment. They made me insane. My body thirsted for more of his appeal and wit. His charisma was sensed from afar. I was winded at sight of him, making his lust and bod a craving. His eyes guided the blade to my wrist.

But a problem arose from the midst of deep compassion, my gender. A black monster developed rapidly, feeding off of my emotions... I was a guy, and he was a guy. In my city, relationships beyond the touch of a man and woman were forbidden. Those who were open to the public with their affairs were highly regarded as insane. Some figured that their mind had been tampered with by demons, forcing them to love their same gender. There was no respect for gays.

I had no clue what my sexuality was. I mean, after all, I had always wanted to experiment upon a man’s lips. Kiss, hug, and hold hands. But yet I could say the same for girls. My confusion guided the blade to my wrist.

He was straight… (From my knowledge). After all, he dated the other girl I had liked. Two absolutely gorgeous people together left me bare. From their break- up, I saw opportunity. When I asked her out, she replied with words I thought I would never hear. Not only was it a no, but she was also sexually confused. She was focused on women more. From this I made a friend other than my blade, I met Morgan. Although Morgan was nice to me, I could always tell that something lied behind her security blanket: a storm, a fiend, something ugly is for sure.

Experiencing all this made my heart quirk and to the point of un-functional. It made me grasp intense thoughts of approaching Joey, leaving him in a twisted love spiral. Peevish fantasies aroused in my brain every day. Not one day would pass that my passion for him was barren dry. I would be the lion and he would surrender to my paw. I also had other fantasies. Once I dreamt a royal bow that had the ability to call forth Cupid. With a dangerous weapon like Cupid, I could aim and fire a golden arrow, targeted at Joey’s ass. My ludicrous ideas were absolutely outrageous and sometimes humorous.

I brainwashed myself…The best thing I could do was to wait; a true trial from the Goddess of Time. Every day I would sit on my perch and wait, delaying any actions of exchange. For three months I waited. Nothing…
No form of social interaction.
Nothing…
We had no conversation, never. It was all fictional and imaginary. I was going crazy.

The obsession with him was unremitting. I would begin to keep track of his scent, his clothing, his friends, his words. I was his stalker. Every day he slowly grew on me more and more, building. It was as if he was like a colony of E. Coli, and I was room-temperature beef.

One night things changed. There was a fire down in the hills of a nearby town. A preposterous wall of flames blazed the countryside. Even with discourse such as this, the strict itinerary of the regiment drove me to practice despite evident health hazards.

This night was unique. The air seemed thinner than usual. It led to many questions, concerns, comments, the whole. Practice rattled all of our heads. Not a soul was prepared for the inexorable maltreatment of the instructors to the regiment. They worked us like the thighs of fat people jiggling in hardcore aerobics. Sweat could drown our stadium. It seemed that every part of my body had been sweating impractical amounts.

For a while, I thought I was going to expire from exhaustion. I was drenched in sweat. I leered across the field during break (our only break) when my eyes met Joey’s. Life replenished in my body, my thirst and hunger were no longer it seemed. From my fatigue I questioned if my vision misled me to see a mirage. ‘It couldn’t have,’ myself repeated over and over.

Adrenaline caressed my veins, constricting and releasing pulses of energy. Joey broke our stare and approached me when I was caught drowned in a daze. With all that in mind, I heard his voice, directed at me for the first time.

“Hey, Daniel. How were you doing that lunge at the eight count halt?”

An angel’s chorus rejoiced. His voice was gentle, and loose; tranquil. It was like heaven flowing endlessly from his vocal chords. His eyes… His eyes fueled me. They gave me pleasure in every second that I looked at him.

Dumbfounded… I was as perplexed as a hacker who gained access to the wrong item. Thoughts of amazement strung through my mind. I was fascinated by his ability to learn my name with such agility. I hadn’t said a word to him prior to that night, but yet he knew my name. He knew what I was called. He knew who I was.

I began to inquire on everything that I’ve even seen him do. Did he ever stare at me when I wasn’t looking at him? How did he know? How long did he know? Why me out of anyone?

My response was even more repulsive than I opted for. In a voice as if I was regurgitating a hairball, fresh from my mouth, I said, “Umm, woa. Well uh… Hey! I’ll show you!” I lunged out exactly how my drill instructors taught me. I formed right angles with my thighs. I questioned my conscience how he got along without knowing how to lunge for so long in this season. But then I realized his intensions. He had wanted to either test me or talk to me. Either or was amazing. He spoke… Not only did he speak, but he spoke to me, to me, to me…

My actions were rudely interrupted by the loud sounding of the microphone, blaring in the distance. It informed us that practice was over. We were free to escape; free.



My reality became blinded. I feared; I feared everything. I feared that another moment such as that night would never occur again. What if he found out that I liked him so much? Would he stop talking to me? Fear was the new threat that shot through my body. Everything shuttered before me. I could see light long enough to assess the dark room that I was trapped in, but as soon as I found a way out, the light dimmed and I had to restart with another dark room; a new beginning.

I blame band. Band was the culprit. Although it nourished me under its wing and provided the happiest point in my life, it was the only four letter word in existence that tormented my pale hands with more agony. From that night on I could only get discouraged. Joey programmed my mind to think about him, only him, always. ‘I would have to approach him again,’ I deliberated.

The blade felt its first skin that night. Nervous of the outcome of the cut, I cut slowly, horizontally, blissfully. The blade glided across my coarse skin, tearing at the flesh upon my arm. Blood oozed out of the cavity, slowly coagulating and crusting on the surface. My body was not prepared for the impact, the indent. As a reaction, it sent a rush of adrenaline; a skyrocketing delight. In that one minute time frame, all pain, all thoughts, all sanity, all existence, diminished. My world was enveloped with blood. My focus was centered only on how the skin on my wrist had been divided by the weapon in my hand, devoured by the blade. This is why I cut; this is why I will continue to cut.

To be continued…..