Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tournament of Beasts (Not a Vampire Story)
They call that day many things. I don’t remember all the names but the one I can recall is Day of the Beasts.
Even now my mind quivers in fear as the memories of that day surface. The rotten underbelly of humanity kept hidden for so long was unleashed in the most violent display of carnage since then Africa Demolition in 2912. I think it may have been worse. You see the Africa Demolition was over in a crisp 10 seconds. No one there felt a thing. Every living creature and organism ceased to exist without a trace in an instant whereas on the Day of the Beasts people died slowly…painfully…they had time to mull over all they were leaving behind and they saw their murderers face to face…
I can still see my sons face…covered in blood, eyes wild with lust for more blood as he finished off his sister…my daughter. He’d been a disturbed young child but as every parent knows, you love your child regardless of what he or she does. I’d been there for him the countless times I found his beaten, strangled, mutilated victims in the basement. I cleaned up any evidence least he be taken away and killed. He was 18 now so he’d automatically be killed. There was no way I was going to lose my son…not after losing my wife! Then there was the publicity! No respectable Asian family would subjugate themselves to such humiliation! He was a smart boy, top of his class, destined for greatness! I would never be to blame for his failure. As long as he wasn’t caught we’d be fine…
But then he began to change. I remember walking into his room early one morning to find him putting duct tape over the windows. When I asked him why he was doing that, he told me that the sun hurt his skin. I didn’t think much of anything then until I saw his victims a week later. There were ten of them instead of the usual one or two. How’d he get so many without getting caught and how’d he get them all into the house by himself?! But that wasn’t the worst of it. All his victims were completely drained of blood. There were hundreds of tiny little holes all over their bodies. What was he doing with the blood? It wasn’t until I was burying the victims and leaned in for a closer look that I saw that the tiny holes were bite marks. He was drinking their blood!
That’s what I watched him do to his sister. Other’s in the neighborhood began to change but I noticed that not everybody was changing the way my son had. Other’s were becoming something else...something far worse.
copyright © 2010
They call that day many things. I don’t remember all the names but the one I can recall is Day of the Beasts.
Even now my mind quivers in fear as the memories of that day surface. The rotten underbelly of humanity kept hidden for so long was unleashed in the most violent display of carnage since then Africa Demolition in 2912. I think it may have been worse. You see the Africa Demolition was over in a crisp 10 seconds. No one there felt a thing. Every living creature and organism ceased to exist without a trace in an instant whereas on the Day of the Beasts people died slowly…painfully…they had time to mull over all they were leaving behind and they saw their murderers face to face…
I can still see my sons face…covered in blood, eyes wild with lust for more blood as he finished off his sister…my daughter. He’d been a disturbed young child but as every parent knows, you love your child regardless of what he or she does. I’d been there for him the countless times I found his beaten, strangled, mutilated victims in the basement. I cleaned up any evidence least he be taken away and killed. He was 18 now so he’d automatically be killed. There was no way I was going to lose my son…not after losing my wife! Then there was the publicity! No respectable Asian family would subjugate themselves to such humiliation! He was a smart boy, top of his class, destined for greatness! I would never be to blame for his failure. As long as he wasn’t caught we’d be fine…
But then he began to change. I remember walking into his room early one morning to find him putting duct tape over the windows. When I asked him why he was doing that, he told me that the sun hurt his skin. I didn’t think much of anything then until I saw his victims a week later. There were ten of them instead of the usual one or two. How’d he get so many without getting caught and how’d he get them all into the house by himself?! But that wasn’t the worst of it. All his victims were completely drained of blood. There were hundreds of tiny little holes all over their bodies. What was he doing with the blood? It wasn’t until I was burying the victims and leaned in for a closer look that I saw that the tiny holes were bite marks. He was drinking their blood!
That’s what I watched him do to his sister. Other’s in the neighborhood began to change but I noticed that not everybody was changing the way my son had. Other’s were becoming something else...something far worse.
copyright © 2010
The End, 11:39 AM.
If the Sea Should Swallow Up My House...
My parents died on a cold, windy, overcast day common where I’m from. Rain slammed against our creaky old house and the roof seemed ready to blow off. The cold tore through the walls of the house and straight through the oversized sweater I’d stolen from my dad’s closet as I stood outside watching the coroner roll my parents out under a white sheet.
The day started off like any other. I was outside making tiny snowman out of the meager amount of snow left and pretending to be their teacher.
I was in the middle of telling Johnny snowflake that clouds were not made of whipped cream, when my mom came outside calling my name.
“I’m over here!” I yelled back running back towards the house.
“Hey sweety, I need you to do mommy and daddy a favor,” she said bending down to be at eye level with me.
“Are you ok mommy?” I asked noticing her red eyes and tear stained cheeks.
“Oh nothing dear, chopping onions for dinner,” she said and feigned a smile. I knew better to believe her but also knew better than to keep pushing.
“What’s the favor?” I asked rocking back and forth on my heels.
“Can you go into town and buy the stuff on this list?” she asked handing me a small sticky note. I nodded happily seeing this opportunity as an adventure!
“Yes!” I said sticking the note in my pocket.
“Here’s some money. I put a little extra in there for you to get that hot chocolate you like so much,” my mommy said and ruffled my hair.
“Yeah, thank you mommy!”
“You’re welcome,” she said and stood up. I ran to the shed to grab my bike and was about to push off when my father called me this time. I turned and saw him waving. Think It odd, I waved back and yelled, “I love!”
“We love you too!” they said in unison and waved at me as I pedaled off to town. That was the last time I saw my parents alive.
copyright © 2010
My parents died on a cold, windy, overcast day common where I’m from. Rain slammed against our creaky old house and the roof seemed ready to blow off. The cold tore through the walls of the house and straight through the oversized sweater I’d stolen from my dad’s closet as I stood outside watching the coroner roll my parents out under a white sheet.
The day started off like any other. I was outside making tiny snowman out of the meager amount of snow left and pretending to be their teacher.
I was in the middle of telling Johnny snowflake that clouds were not made of whipped cream, when my mom came outside calling my name.
“I’m over here!” I yelled back running back towards the house.
“Hey sweety, I need you to do mommy and daddy a favor,” she said bending down to be at eye level with me.
“Are you ok mommy?” I asked noticing her red eyes and tear stained cheeks.
“Oh nothing dear, chopping onions for dinner,” she said and feigned a smile. I knew better to believe her but also knew better than to keep pushing.
“What’s the favor?” I asked rocking back and forth on my heels.
“Can you go into town and buy the stuff on this list?” she asked handing me a small sticky note. I nodded happily seeing this opportunity as an adventure!
“Yes!” I said sticking the note in my pocket.
“Here’s some money. I put a little extra in there for you to get that hot chocolate you like so much,” my mommy said and ruffled my hair.
“Yeah, thank you mommy!”
“You’re welcome,” she said and stood up. I ran to the shed to grab my bike and was about to push off when my father called me this time. I turned and saw him waving. Think It odd, I waved back and yelled, “I love!”
“We love you too!” they said in unison and waved at me as I pedaled off to town. That was the last time I saw my parents alive.
copyright © 2010
The End, 11:33 AM.
I AM
I am a psychic when I write. I can look into the future and regret the past. I am Death when I write. I know the lifespan of every human being and how one will die. Absolute power trickles from my mind down to my fingertips as they hover anxiously above my blank canvas. Should the sky be blue or green? Should the ocean be home to mermaids or the sky a theater to our world? Will she have blue eyes, green eyes or both? Should the smell of chocolate linger on every street corner? Should the man walking down the alley die from a heart attack…or should the ground open up and swallow him?
We all have absolute power when it comes to writing. But I find that many writers cheat themselves by selling their souls to genres and repetitive plots.
“Well I’m not a horror writer.” One says.
“I’m not a mystery writer,” says another. No you’re not a horror writer, or a mystery writer or a romance writer. You’re a writer! Is this world so wonderful and perfect that you want to duplicate it a thousand times over? Why do writers harness such awesome God given power? We have the ability to the change the world by creating worlds but we are slaves to stereotypes. Many people have heard the saying, “Write what you know.” Well I disagree. Write what you don’t know and introduce it to what you do. We as writers have the most exciting job in the universe! We create escapes from a sometimes weary, ugly world to worlds beyond our wildest dreams. We’re the Sci-fi version of Travelocity. If you’re in the mood for the fast paced city of New York or the fantastical world of The Shire, then pop a squat and crack a book. We give so much to the world why do we settle for anything less than amazing?
So writers break free from the shackles of the mundane and expected and discover the power within. You are chess players. You decide every mood good or bad. You are warriors. You fight for what you believe in through poetry, novels and stanzas. You are guardian Angels. You protect your characters until the end. You are nurturers. You wipe the tears from heavy laden eyes and congratulate good deeds. You are sadist. You inflict pain whenever you please and watch their torment unfold. We, as writers, are gods.
copyright © 2008
I am a psychic when I write. I can look into the future and regret the past. I am Death when I write. I know the lifespan of every human being and how one will die. Absolute power trickles from my mind down to my fingertips as they hover anxiously above my blank canvas. Should the sky be blue or green? Should the ocean be home to mermaids or the sky a theater to our world? Will she have blue eyes, green eyes or both? Should the smell of chocolate linger on every street corner? Should the man walking down the alley die from a heart attack…or should the ground open up and swallow him?
We all have absolute power when it comes to writing. But I find that many writers cheat themselves by selling their souls to genres and repetitive plots.
“Well I’m not a horror writer.” One says.
“I’m not a mystery writer,” says another. No you’re not a horror writer, or a mystery writer or a romance writer. You’re a writer! Is this world so wonderful and perfect that you want to duplicate it a thousand times over? Why do writers harness such awesome God given power? We have the ability to the change the world by creating worlds but we are slaves to stereotypes. Many people have heard the saying, “Write what you know.” Well I disagree. Write what you don’t know and introduce it to what you do. We as writers have the most exciting job in the universe! We create escapes from a sometimes weary, ugly world to worlds beyond our wildest dreams. We’re the Sci-fi version of Travelocity. If you’re in the mood for the fast paced city of New York or the fantastical world of The Shire, then pop a squat and crack a book. We give so much to the world why do we settle for anything less than amazing?
So writers break free from the shackles of the mundane and expected and discover the power within. You are chess players. You decide every mood good or bad. You are warriors. You fight for what you believe in through poetry, novels and stanzas. You are guardian Angels. You protect your characters until the end. You are nurturers. You wipe the tears from heavy laden eyes and congratulate good deeds. You are sadist. You inflict pain whenever you please and watch their torment unfold. We, as writers, are gods.
copyright © 2008
The End, 11:28 AM.
Malice In Wonderland
“This is an enchanted garden,” I began, speaking to the small group of anxious children. I stood in front of the gate that led into the garden and smiled at my immature audience through the bunny mask I wore. It was a simple potato sack painted white with stuffed ears and a nose sewn on to the head. But, to the children, I was a magical bunny girl come to free them from their misery.
“If you make it all the way to the end you’ll end up in a beautiful place called Wonderland. There are flowers in every color you can imagine and sparkling rivers filled with mermaids and beautiful talking fish. There will be houses for all of you and candy will grow from the trees. The birds will sing your favorite songs and if you know the song they sing and sing along with them, they’ll let you fly all over Wonderland on their backs! But best of all…there will be mums and dads for each and every one of you. They will be the greatest parents in the world,” I said as the poor, ragged street children looked up at me big eyed and hopeful.
“Why don’t you go?” a little girl asked before coughing.
“Well, my job is to tell others. If I hadn’t come to tell you, you would never have known about Wonderland would you?” I asked and the little girl smiled sheepishly.
“Is it scary in there?” a little boy asked pointing to the garden behind me. I turned and looked at it. In the setting sun it did look ominous especially with the unkempt ivy bursting from the gate and the tiny angels sprinkled along the way turning demonic with the setting sun.
“Of course it’s not scary but I know it’s really, really dark so I have lanterns for each of you,” I said and opened the sack in front of my feet. I took out the lanterns and began to light them one by one, handing them to the kids. Their little excited faces glowed in the light giving them an otherworldly look.
“Now, one last thing before you leave. Stay together and don’t turn back. Your mums and dads will disappear if you try to come back. Now come along,” I said and turned to open the gate.
“Wow look at the flowers!” a little girl exclaimed and before I knew it they were all running into the garden maze.
“I’m going to get to Wonderland first!” a boy yelled running ahead of the others into the maze. I watched until the last light from the lanterns disappeared forever. I smiled shutting the gate behind them and locked it. No one would care to search for street kids.
“Fools,” I said still smiling and walked off whistling my favorite song feeling happier than ever.
copyright © 2010
“This is an enchanted garden,” I began, speaking to the small group of anxious children. I stood in front of the gate that led into the garden and smiled at my immature audience through the bunny mask I wore. It was a simple potato sack painted white with stuffed ears and a nose sewn on to the head. But, to the children, I was a magical bunny girl come to free them from their misery.
“If you make it all the way to the end you’ll end up in a beautiful place called Wonderland. There are flowers in every color you can imagine and sparkling rivers filled with mermaids and beautiful talking fish. There will be houses for all of you and candy will grow from the trees. The birds will sing your favorite songs and if you know the song they sing and sing along with them, they’ll let you fly all over Wonderland on their backs! But best of all…there will be mums and dads for each and every one of you. They will be the greatest parents in the world,” I said as the poor, ragged street children looked up at me big eyed and hopeful.
“Why don’t you go?” a little girl asked before coughing.
“Well, my job is to tell others. If I hadn’t come to tell you, you would never have known about Wonderland would you?” I asked and the little girl smiled sheepishly.
“Is it scary in there?” a little boy asked pointing to the garden behind me. I turned and looked at it. In the setting sun it did look ominous especially with the unkempt ivy bursting from the gate and the tiny angels sprinkled along the way turning demonic with the setting sun.
“Of course it’s not scary but I know it’s really, really dark so I have lanterns for each of you,” I said and opened the sack in front of my feet. I took out the lanterns and began to light them one by one, handing them to the kids. Their little excited faces glowed in the light giving them an otherworldly look.
“Now, one last thing before you leave. Stay together and don’t turn back. Your mums and dads will disappear if you try to come back. Now come along,” I said and turned to open the gate.
“Wow look at the flowers!” a little girl exclaimed and before I knew it they were all running into the garden maze.
“I’m going to get to Wonderland first!” a boy yelled running ahead of the others into the maze. I watched until the last light from the lanterns disappeared forever. I smiled shutting the gate behind them and locked it. No one would care to search for street kids.
“Fools,” I said still smiling and walked off whistling my favorite song feeling happier than ever.
copyright © 2010
The End, 10:46 AM.
The No Name Boy (Excerpt from my novel, ch. 1)
Blood, so much blood…crimson in the dimly lit hallway mimicking each step I took. The brown door at the end of the hallway seemed to sink further into the wall as I slowly made my way towards it. Was the hallway tilting or was that just my imagination? Regardless of whether it was my imagination or not my body followed, tilting right along with it. I put my hand out ready to grasp the tiny round knob, when it opened on its own. A black form appeared in front of me and I heard a surprised exclamation, then a quickening of feet as more black shadows appeared. I felt my body give way as the black shadows enveloped me covering me in their darkness, devouring my light…would he be proud?
Chapter 1
It Blinked Blue as I Waited
The blue light above my head blinked annoyingly fast, illuminating the darkness for seconds at a time. I stared at it, annoyed yet fascinated. It was like seeing a man with a huge tumor covering his face or a morbidly obese woman eating a hamburger. You knew you shouldn’t stare but you found yourself doing so somehow fascinated by the small occurrence.
I closed my eyes and exhaled allowing the smoke to escape through my blood crusted lips. My eyes managed to capture the blinking light behind its eyelids and the tiny light danced around the darkness like the orb of a lost spirit. There was so escaping this was there? I opened my eyes and gazed around me lazily. The surrounding streets were darker than usual because of the moons absence behind rain stuffed cloud. I was sure my encampment beneath the blue light looked ominous. Laughing, I thought of what the late night joggers and rebellious teenagers would think if they saw me. They’d probably think I was some psycho criminal and take the other street…the long way home only to find themselves in real danger when they stumbled across the real crazies; the crazies that would beat you, rape you and leave you in some cold dark alley to rot.
The irony behind the fact that I wasn’t far from one of those people made me laugh again and this time I found myself caught in a coughing fit. Dormant cuts and bruises awoke with a vengeance, making me wince and cry out in pain. The black suitcase on my lap clattered to the ground and I bent to pick it up only to feel the cut on my chest open up. Warm blood ran down my chest and stained one of the last remnants of my white fleece. Cursing, I took the cigarette from my mouth and crushed it with my foot making it the scapegoat of the pain I was now in. Technically it was.
I sat back slowly and waited until the pain became nothing but a silent durable throb. No longer in pain but still angry, I downed the last bit of Vodka and threw the glass to the ground. It simply rolled into the shadows which made me angry for some reason. The stupid thing should’ve shattered. Realizing how stupid I was being, I told myself to calm down and enjoy this quiet moment. It was the only quiet moment in my hectic life. Despite what coming here meant, I tried to cherish every minute of it. It was my calm after the storm and before it. Being here meant I’d finished an assignment, I’d survived and that another one was bound to follow. I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was a quarter till 1:00. They would be here any minute.
Suddenly remembering the assignment, I opened the suitcase, shuffled around the money until I felt the cold hard pinkie. I took out the tiny finger and dislodged the ring around it placing the pinkie back in the suitcase. I’d thrown up many times before I was able to cut off a pinkie and hold it. That was a long time ago and I’d seen much worse since.
I held the ring towards the light and watched its many stones dance as they illuminated. I came to the conclusion that it was a pretty impressive ring, probably worth millions, but so were other things I’d been assigned to retrieve. But for some reason my father seemed more adamant about the retrieval of this ring than anything else. Maybe there was sentimental value.
Not really caring, I slipped the ring on and found it fit perfectly. Then I realized it was bad luck to wear a dead man’s ring and took it off just as my phone vibrated. I quickly put the ring in my pocket and answered the phone.
“Hai…sugu iku.” I responded in Japanese and hung up. I sighed and got up gathering my things when something flashed from the corner of my eye. Again?! I thought madly turning my head sharply to catch the culprit. This had happened the last time I was here. I ventured from the protective halo of the blue light and scanned the darkness. I saw nothing like last time. That had to be the flash from a camera! Who was taking the pictures? Maybe it was a cop! I had to be more careful, find a new meeting spot. I looked around one last time than turned and headed towards where my men said the car would be.
Like promised, the car was parked down a street around the corner in an alley. This whole area was under construction with promises of condos, five star restaurants and expensive boutiques. But, the project had lost funding a year ago so the contractors stopping working and the place became the ghost of a town that would never be.
Before I got to the car, the door opened and I entered without hesitation.
“You got it?” a voice from the passenger’s seat asked in throaty Japanese.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” I responded nonchalantly.
“Don't speak English!” he said sharply. I laughed knowing how insecure he was about not being able to speak Englsih.
“Yeah, I got it.” I replied. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.
“Looks like they put up a fight.” He said in Japanese.
“Looks like I handled it.” I responded.
“Looks like you did…now lets get you home to daddy before curfew.” He snarled and motioned for the driver to leave.
I cursed angrily under my breath as we drove off. I was tipsy, sore and tired and the guy was pushing me. Leaning against the window, I watched the outside world pass by in a blur and found the effect to be soothing. I closed my eyes and began to drift, despite the blue orb that still danced in the darkness, and was pulled into the world known as dream.
copyright © 2007
dream.
Blood, so much blood…crimson in the dimly lit hallway mimicking each step I took. The brown door at the end of the hallway seemed to sink further into the wall as I slowly made my way towards it. Was the hallway tilting or was that just my imagination? Regardless of whether it was my imagination or not my body followed, tilting right along with it. I put my hand out ready to grasp the tiny round knob, when it opened on its own. A black form appeared in front of me and I heard a surprised exclamation, then a quickening of feet as more black shadows appeared. I felt my body give way as the black shadows enveloped me covering me in their darkness, devouring my light…would he be proud?
Chapter 1
It Blinked Blue as I Waited
The blue light above my head blinked annoyingly fast, illuminating the darkness for seconds at a time. I stared at it, annoyed yet fascinated. It was like seeing a man with a huge tumor covering his face or a morbidly obese woman eating a hamburger. You knew you shouldn’t stare but you found yourself doing so somehow fascinated by the small occurrence.
I closed my eyes and exhaled allowing the smoke to escape through my blood crusted lips. My eyes managed to capture the blinking light behind its eyelids and the tiny light danced around the darkness like the orb of a lost spirit. There was so escaping this was there? I opened my eyes and gazed around me lazily. The surrounding streets were darker than usual because of the moons absence behind rain stuffed cloud. I was sure my encampment beneath the blue light looked ominous. Laughing, I thought of what the late night joggers and rebellious teenagers would think if they saw me. They’d probably think I was some psycho criminal and take the other street…the long way home only to find themselves in real danger when they stumbled across the real crazies; the crazies that would beat you, rape you and leave you in some cold dark alley to rot.
The irony behind the fact that I wasn’t far from one of those people made me laugh again and this time I found myself caught in a coughing fit. Dormant cuts and bruises awoke with a vengeance, making me wince and cry out in pain. The black suitcase on my lap clattered to the ground and I bent to pick it up only to feel the cut on my chest open up. Warm blood ran down my chest and stained one of the last remnants of my white fleece. Cursing, I took the cigarette from my mouth and crushed it with my foot making it the scapegoat of the pain I was now in. Technically it was.
I sat back slowly and waited until the pain became nothing but a silent durable throb. No longer in pain but still angry, I downed the last bit of Vodka and threw the glass to the ground. It simply rolled into the shadows which made me angry for some reason. The stupid thing should’ve shattered. Realizing how stupid I was being, I told myself to calm down and enjoy this quiet moment. It was the only quiet moment in my hectic life. Despite what coming here meant, I tried to cherish every minute of it. It was my calm after the storm and before it. Being here meant I’d finished an assignment, I’d survived and that another one was bound to follow. I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was a quarter till 1:00. They would be here any minute.
Suddenly remembering the assignment, I opened the suitcase, shuffled around the money until I felt the cold hard pinkie. I took out the tiny finger and dislodged the ring around it placing the pinkie back in the suitcase. I’d thrown up many times before I was able to cut off a pinkie and hold it. That was a long time ago and I’d seen much worse since.
I held the ring towards the light and watched its many stones dance as they illuminated. I came to the conclusion that it was a pretty impressive ring, probably worth millions, but so were other things I’d been assigned to retrieve. But for some reason my father seemed more adamant about the retrieval of this ring than anything else. Maybe there was sentimental value.
Not really caring, I slipped the ring on and found it fit perfectly. Then I realized it was bad luck to wear a dead man’s ring and took it off just as my phone vibrated. I quickly put the ring in my pocket and answered the phone.
“Hai…sugu iku.” I responded in Japanese and hung up. I sighed and got up gathering my things when something flashed from the corner of my eye. Again?! I thought madly turning my head sharply to catch the culprit. This had happened the last time I was here. I ventured from the protective halo of the blue light and scanned the darkness. I saw nothing like last time. That had to be the flash from a camera! Who was taking the pictures? Maybe it was a cop! I had to be more careful, find a new meeting spot. I looked around one last time than turned and headed towards where my men said the car would be.
Like promised, the car was parked down a street around the corner in an alley. This whole area was under construction with promises of condos, five star restaurants and expensive boutiques. But, the project had lost funding a year ago so the contractors stopping working and the place became the ghost of a town that would never be.
Before I got to the car, the door opened and I entered without hesitation.
“You got it?” a voice from the passenger’s seat asked in throaty Japanese.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” I responded nonchalantly.
“Don't speak English!” he said sharply. I laughed knowing how insecure he was about not being able to speak Englsih.
“Yeah, I got it.” I replied. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.
“Looks like they put up a fight.” He said in Japanese.
“Looks like I handled it.” I responded.
“Looks like you did…now lets get you home to daddy before curfew.” He snarled and motioned for the driver to leave.
I cursed angrily under my breath as we drove off. I was tipsy, sore and tired and the guy was pushing me. Leaning against the window, I watched the outside world pass by in a blur and found the effect to be soothing. I closed my eyes and began to drift, despite the blue orb that still danced in the darkness, and was pulled into the world known as dream.
copyright © 2007
dream.
The End, 10:43 AM.