I hate this time of year.
For one, it's americanised bullshit. Trick or treat and the like.
Secondly, my name doesn't lend itself to the season. Samuel Haine. Samhain. Never used to be a problem, now with the internet people just fucking know.
I carve a pumpkin or two. Just for fun. My brother always makes the same old "Sweeney Todd" joke - "At last, my arm is complete again!" - Lucky it hasn't always been like that. Johnny fucking Depp. Tim fucking Burton.
That's another thing. "Nightmare before christmas". Why it's never shown on Halloween I'll never know. Usually on at about 2am on ITV at new years! Neither Halloween or Christmas!
Anyway, pumpkins. I love making these artsy-fartsy style pumpkins. I did one with roman columns all around it one year. Won a prize for it - book voucher, but still. It's either that or really fucked up stuff. The bro usually ends up attempting to carve a vagina on his ones but either chickens out or fucks it up.
Thing I like about Halloween is the fact you can scare people and they won't care, or try to attack you. Not like any other time of the year.
I can go out in bloody overalls and brandish a hatchet - and people won't give a shit. No matter what I've done or intend to do.
Be a smashing night for a murder.
Cliched. But smashing nonetheless.
Sometimes I just sit in the road and act like a psychopath. If anyone comes close, I jump up and scream like a madman, waving a weapon around before moving on to the next road.
That can go wrong of course. Like the time the car didn't stop. Nothing serious, just a bitch of a bruise on my side for about 2 weeks.
Something I'd like to do is just go and sit in a graveyard. On Hallow's eve of course. See how many little gothy chicks I can see and subsequentially scare. Last year, I went into one, just passed through. There were a group of goths, none over the age of 14. Lot of girls, about 60/40 in the group. They were stood around chanting and laughing, trying to raise the dead or summon a demon.
I had to interject.
Just set them straight. The spell the lead boy had printed off of the net - See what I said about the internet? - was bogus. Just theatrics. I told them of the Baccae, the Hecate and of the Pandem. The latter are a small spanish sect of satanists, they think the rock of Gibratar is the entrance to Pandemonium, the capital city of hell.
I told them to try the Baccae. Dismemberment, rape and the sheer release of restraint. Just get fucking filthy. The lead guy tryed to shoo me away. Seriously. Waving his hands and everything. So I pushed him down the hill. He got knocked out. So I took control.
Those kids were energetic. Loved the process of the Baccae... But couldn't take the mess. Vomiting is good for the worship though. I'll always remember those girls...
The results were... Unexpected.
They all later died of massive wounds... Hm.
That's why I want to go all night.
And the night is young.
Saturday 31 October 2009
Friday 30 October 2009
Making up for lost time. Sinner 66 heads for home.
This place never changes.
Been here all my life. Nothing has ever changed.
No new shops, banks, cafes or even new machines in the arcade.
And nothing has ever shut either.
Everyone just seems to get along fine.
I can't deny that they might be going through the motions.
But then, I wouldn't know if they'd ever haven't, if you see what I mean.
I need to get out of here.
"Harman", I say to myself, "You need to get out of this hole before the walls fall in and you're running the Texmax station.".
...
Then again. Weird things happen here. And I'm the only one who notices.
Rats stand upright and talk in the alleyways. They talk like we do, about inconsequential things, to them at least. Pleasentries and small talk. "How's the wife, Stephen?", "Fine, Morris. How's Hattie and the kids?". I think I must be going insane.
No other animals do this, Just the rats.
The cats just stare. Or sleep. When they stare, they look at your soul. They don't judge, I think. Feel. They just look. Some walk away, some nuzzle your leg, some hiss and spit. There's no colour or breed to it. Everyone's an individual.
The dogs are too dumb to do anything it seems. But at night... They act like wolves. Maybe that's just animal instinct magnified by 10 or... just the release from civility.
I could go on and on but... I met a man the other day.
Average height, build and features. Black and white barred shirt. Black trousers.
Wicked smile.
I'll always remember that smile. Like a shark, or... No, just a shark. only on half of his face. Sign of a guy who can't let his guard down, always prepared to do something.
I was in "Clifftop Cafe" - ironic for a place in the centre of town. It was moved at somepoint they say, but there are no records for any of it. Unsurprisingly.
He came and sat in the booth with me. My personal booth in the corner.
"Excuse me?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sitting here."
"I know, but you're not here, you're there. Don't be greedy, that'll kill ya."
He talked like a sleazebag. That's the only way I could describe it. A sleazebag. Grifter. Con-man.
"Well, do you mind finding somewhere else to sit?"
"Yes. I do mind. I'm looking for conversation as well as a meal, and frankly, you're the most interesting looking person in here."
Ballsy. And I can't exactly say "No, I'm boring.".
"Fine..."
"Thank you."
The waitress comes over. Kelly. I've had a crush on her since... I think since I was about 12. As puberty went into overdrive, I can't deny she'd become a focus for my lust. I remember having to eat a rotten apple for Max Derreckson, cause he had "Pictures" of her when she was about 15, like we were - She was in one of these slutty phases all girls go through. The stomach pump was worth it.
"Hey Harm."
"Kel', Hi."
"Usual?"
"Sure."
"Who's your friend?"
Million dollar question.
"I'm Jerry."
"Nice to meet you, Jerry. Any friend of Harmans is a friend of mine."
"The pleasure is ALL mine".
Sleaze. I'd been doing the whole slow and steady approach for years. Like I was going to let this nutbag get into her pants.
"He'll have a green tea."
"Okay, be right back!"
...
"Well, that was smooth, Harman."
"Is your name really Jerry?"
"God no. I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet."
"Then who are you?"
"An everyman."
"I doubt that."
"You're right. I'm nobody."
"...I want to doubt that."
"But you can't. You A) Don't know me. Literal nobody. And B) I'm not a local. I don't know what it is with you Brits and territory. If it isn't local, it isn't safe."
He was right. He wasn't local. I hadn't noticed his American accent. Could have been Canadian, I'm not one for voices.
"So what can I call you?"
"In front of her? Jerry. But call me Jay."
"Fine."
"What kind of name is 'Harman'?"
"My parents were vindictive, I think."
"Does it flow?"
"Flow?"
"With your second name?"
"Harman Croire."
"...That's... Wow."
"Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else did."
"I'm sure she didn't."
"Yep. For a little while."
"Speaking of."
Kel came over with a green tea and a black coffee for me.
"There we are guys, let me know of you want anything."
"Thanks, Kel'."
"Much obliged."
...
"So, you crushing on her as much as she is on you?"
"...What?"
"It's obvious, a blind man could see it. He could even hear the awkward silence between you."
"..."
He was right. About the awkward silence, the dead air. I didn't know she had a crush on me though. At the time.
"Want a couple of pointers?"
"What? For talking to her?"
"For scoring, genius. No need to be subtle around me."
"I don't need your help. I don't even know who the hell you are and why you're in a hole like this."
"Straight to the point. I like it."
He lay across the seat, putting his feet up.
"Look, Harmy-"
"Harman. Or Harm, if you really need to."
"Harman. The point is this. How long have you been waiting for her to fall into your arms?"
"Uh..."
"Right. See how this has never worked?"
"I guess."
"I want you to go over there and ask her to go to the movies with you."
"What?!"
"It never... Well, it does hurt to try, but you'll never get anything if you don't try."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained?"
"If you like."
"So you just want me to go over there and risk losing a great friend?"
"You didn't listen to me earlier. I said she's crushing on you too."
"How do you know?"
"I'm good with people. I just know. Call it body language or whatever, I just have the knack."
The knack. A word which inspires confidence in people. If someone says they have the knack for something, you trust them in that area. If they're a specialist, instead of a savant, you can trust them. One of the many things I learnt from "Jay".
"So, you go over there and ask her out. Don't stretch it out or you'll chicken out."
"You say this like I'm actually gonna do it."
"You are. You can't wait forever, and neither will she."
"...Alright. Say I do. What happens then?"
"That's all I can tell you. I'm not a mind reader."
"Then what are you?"
"A sin reader."
"What?!"
"You heard me. I can see sins on a person."
"Is that how you saw that she liked me?"
"No. I told you, I know people. Two different things."
"Oh."
...
"What do you see on me?"
"Knew that was coming."
"If you tell me, I'll go ask her out."
"Damn. That's shrewd. Alright."
"..."
"Sloth, lust, pride, greed. In that order."
"How am I-"
"You really can't argue this one."
"I'd say my lust is lower than my pride though."
"Well now it is, Mr. Humble."
"No wrath or envy?"
"You ever kill anyone?"
"No!"
"There we go then."
"Why can you see sins?"
"That's a whole different kettle of fish, my friend. You have a deal to fufill."
"...Fine."
He smiled as I got up. Big shiteating grin. Fucker. I was shitting butterflies. This was my holy grail. I was at the edge of the abyss of eternity. She turned to face me as I got up there.
"Hey, you done with the coffee?"
"Not yet. I have something I want to ask you."
"Shoot."
"..Uh..."
"What's wrong?"
"Bit of an upset stomach. It'll pass."
"Alright... If you're sure."
"Yeah... Hm... This'll seem odd, but-"
I looked back at Jay. He looked to be on the edge of his seat.
"Look. Do you... Maybe... Wanna go out with me some time?"
My heart stopped for a second, waiting for the reply.
"..Sure. When?"
I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Just bits. I said "Really?!" at one point. Jay clapped all the while. Kelly blushed a lot, and smiled.
I was happy.
Then came the realisation.
I had nothing else in my life apart from her.
It's sad. My holy grail was nothing more than an eggcup.
I went back to the booth, and downed the coffee in one long gulp.
"So, was it everything you dreamt of?"
"Yeah..."
"And no, right?"
"You found me for a reason, didn't you?"
"Yep. On behalf of my employer. You're perfectly suited to the job he wants me to offer you."
"And what's that? A sin reader?"
"No, though you'd be with one - Me, most likely."
"Then what would I be?"
"A consultant."
"In what field?"
"This one."
He pointed out of the window.
"The town?"
"Bingo."
"Why?"
"You can see things, right?"
He threw me a curveball. How did he know? I later found out. But at the time, I was like "What the fuck?!".
"Kinda."
"Good enough. Finish your coffe and we'll head to your place. The kit should have been delivered by now."
"What?"
"Drink up and say goodbye to your girlfriend."
I did and I did. The date went well. But we agreed we weren't ready for a relationship.
Told you this town never changes.
It doesn't. I have.
I work at the edge of insanity. At the edge of the Locus.
It may never change, but it's always never changing.
Order and chaos in balance.
But even then, it never changes.
Been here all my life. Nothing has ever changed.
No new shops, banks, cafes or even new machines in the arcade.
And nothing has ever shut either.
Everyone just seems to get along fine.
I can't deny that they might be going through the motions.
But then, I wouldn't know if they'd ever haven't, if you see what I mean.
I need to get out of here.
"Harman", I say to myself, "You need to get out of this hole before the walls fall in and you're running the Texmax station.".
...
Then again. Weird things happen here. And I'm the only one who notices.
Rats stand upright and talk in the alleyways. They talk like we do, about inconsequential things, to them at least. Pleasentries and small talk. "How's the wife, Stephen?", "Fine, Morris. How's Hattie and the kids?". I think I must be going insane.
No other animals do this, Just the rats.
The cats just stare. Or sleep. When they stare, they look at your soul. They don't judge, I think. Feel. They just look. Some walk away, some nuzzle your leg, some hiss and spit. There's no colour or breed to it. Everyone's an individual.
The dogs are too dumb to do anything it seems. But at night... They act like wolves. Maybe that's just animal instinct magnified by 10 or... just the release from civility.
I could go on and on but... I met a man the other day.
Average height, build and features. Black and white barred shirt. Black trousers.
Wicked smile.
I'll always remember that smile. Like a shark, or... No, just a shark. only on half of his face. Sign of a guy who can't let his guard down, always prepared to do something.
I was in "Clifftop Cafe" - ironic for a place in the centre of town. It was moved at somepoint they say, but there are no records for any of it. Unsurprisingly.
He came and sat in the booth with me. My personal booth in the corner.
"Excuse me?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sitting here."
"I know, but you're not here, you're there. Don't be greedy, that'll kill ya."
He talked like a sleazebag. That's the only way I could describe it. A sleazebag. Grifter. Con-man.
"Well, do you mind finding somewhere else to sit?"
"Yes. I do mind. I'm looking for conversation as well as a meal, and frankly, you're the most interesting looking person in here."
Ballsy. And I can't exactly say "No, I'm boring.".
"Fine..."
"Thank you."
The waitress comes over. Kelly. I've had a crush on her since... I think since I was about 12. As puberty went into overdrive, I can't deny she'd become a focus for my lust. I remember having to eat a rotten apple for Max Derreckson, cause he had "Pictures" of her when she was about 15, like we were - She was in one of these slutty phases all girls go through. The stomach pump was worth it.
"Hey Harm."
"Kel', Hi."
"Usual?"
"Sure."
"Who's your friend?"
Million dollar question.
"I'm Jerry."
"Nice to meet you, Jerry. Any friend of Harmans is a friend of mine."
"The pleasure is ALL mine".
Sleaze. I'd been doing the whole slow and steady approach for years. Like I was going to let this nutbag get into her pants.
"He'll have a green tea."
"Okay, be right back!"
...
"Well, that was smooth, Harman."
"Is your name really Jerry?"
"God no. I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet."
"Then who are you?"
"An everyman."
"I doubt that."
"You're right. I'm nobody."
"...I want to doubt that."
"But you can't. You A) Don't know me. Literal nobody. And B) I'm not a local. I don't know what it is with you Brits and territory. If it isn't local, it isn't safe."
He was right. He wasn't local. I hadn't noticed his American accent. Could have been Canadian, I'm not one for voices.
"So what can I call you?"
"In front of her? Jerry. But call me Jay."
"Fine."
"What kind of name is 'Harman'?"
"My parents were vindictive, I think."
"Does it flow?"
"Flow?"
"With your second name?"
"Harman Croire."
"...That's... Wow."
"Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else did."
"I'm sure she didn't."
"Yep. For a little while."
"Speaking of."
Kel came over with a green tea and a black coffee for me.
"There we are guys, let me know of you want anything."
"Thanks, Kel'."
"Much obliged."
...
"So, you crushing on her as much as she is on you?"
"...What?"
"It's obvious, a blind man could see it. He could even hear the awkward silence between you."
"..."
He was right. About the awkward silence, the dead air. I didn't know she had a crush on me though. At the time.
"Want a couple of pointers?"
"What? For talking to her?"
"For scoring, genius. No need to be subtle around me."
"I don't need your help. I don't even know who the hell you are and why you're in a hole like this."
"Straight to the point. I like it."
He lay across the seat, putting his feet up.
"Look, Harmy-"
"Harman. Or Harm, if you really need to."
"Harman. The point is this. How long have you been waiting for her to fall into your arms?"
"Uh..."
"Right. See how this has never worked?"
"I guess."
"I want you to go over there and ask her to go to the movies with you."
"What?!"
"It never... Well, it does hurt to try, but you'll never get anything if you don't try."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained?"
"If you like."
"So you just want me to go over there and risk losing a great friend?"
"You didn't listen to me earlier. I said she's crushing on you too."
"How do you know?"
"I'm good with people. I just know. Call it body language or whatever, I just have the knack."
The knack. A word which inspires confidence in people. If someone says they have the knack for something, you trust them in that area. If they're a specialist, instead of a savant, you can trust them. One of the many things I learnt from "Jay".
"So, you go over there and ask her out. Don't stretch it out or you'll chicken out."
"You say this like I'm actually gonna do it."
"You are. You can't wait forever, and neither will she."
"...Alright. Say I do. What happens then?"
"That's all I can tell you. I'm not a mind reader."
"Then what are you?"
"A sin reader."
"What?!"
"You heard me. I can see sins on a person."
"Is that how you saw that she liked me?"
"No. I told you, I know people. Two different things."
"Oh."
...
"What do you see on me?"
"Knew that was coming."
"If you tell me, I'll go ask her out."
"Damn. That's shrewd. Alright."
"..."
"Sloth, lust, pride, greed. In that order."
"How am I-"
"You really can't argue this one."
"I'd say my lust is lower than my pride though."
"Well now it is, Mr. Humble."
"No wrath or envy?"
"You ever kill anyone?"
"No!"
"There we go then."
"Why can you see sins?"
"That's a whole different kettle of fish, my friend. You have a deal to fufill."
"...Fine."
He smiled as I got up. Big shiteating grin. Fucker. I was shitting butterflies. This was my holy grail. I was at the edge of the abyss of eternity. She turned to face me as I got up there.
"Hey, you done with the coffee?"
"Not yet. I have something I want to ask you."
"Shoot."
"..Uh..."
"What's wrong?"
"Bit of an upset stomach. It'll pass."
"Alright... If you're sure."
"Yeah... Hm... This'll seem odd, but-"
I looked back at Jay. He looked to be on the edge of his seat.
"Look. Do you... Maybe... Wanna go out with me some time?"
My heart stopped for a second, waiting for the reply.
"..Sure. When?"
I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Just bits. I said "Really?!" at one point. Jay clapped all the while. Kelly blushed a lot, and smiled.
I was happy.
Then came the realisation.
I had nothing else in my life apart from her.
It's sad. My holy grail was nothing more than an eggcup.
I went back to the booth, and downed the coffee in one long gulp.
"So, was it everything you dreamt of?"
"Yeah..."
"And no, right?"
"You found me for a reason, didn't you?"
"Yep. On behalf of my employer. You're perfectly suited to the job he wants me to offer you."
"And what's that? A sin reader?"
"No, though you'd be with one - Me, most likely."
"Then what would I be?"
"A consultant."
"In what field?"
"This one."
He pointed out of the window.
"The town?"
"Bingo."
"Why?"
"You can see things, right?"
He threw me a curveball. How did he know? I later found out. But at the time, I was like "What the fuck?!".
"Kinda."
"Good enough. Finish your coffe and we'll head to your place. The kit should have been delivered by now."
"What?"
"Drink up and say goodbye to your girlfriend."
I did and I did. The date went well. But we agreed we weren't ready for a relationship.
Told you this town never changes.
It doesn't. I have.
I work at the edge of insanity. At the edge of the Locus.
It may never change, but it's always never changing.
Order and chaos in balance.
But even then, it never changes.
Ink-cognito.
My life runs like a cartoon.
I get up, and an anvil falls on my head.
Take a step forward, and I hit a mousetrap.
Try to eat, the food is stolen by vermin in the walls.
I see the same old people on the street like characters in the background.
I hate it.
I used to love the boxed chaos.
Now it's just boring.
I hate never knowing what's coming. I want to live by a ritualistic schedule.
God knows I try doing that, but after step 1 we have to jump around on the page to even get out of the door in the morning.
Royal "we" of course.
I just want to be able to sleep without being woken up by something-or-other.
Nothing worth hanging myself over, you realise.
I just...
I don't want the rest of my life to be a bananna creme pie to the face.
"Pick up pie!"
*THWACK!*
...
Where did it all go wrong?
As a kid, it's not so noticable. You're a being of chaos - a cliche.
Incarnate.
But life gets boring.
Really boring.
Really quickly.
You go from pyjamas with the power rangers on them to sleeping nude because of your core body temperature.
It's the loss of innocence. The gain of experience. Blake had it pinned down.
But what is it that makes innocence a barrier for chaos?
Maybe I'll never know...
Maybe it's the rose tinted glasses of youth.
Maybe it's just how duller things get. Colour. Events. God knows christmas is never fun when you're an adult.
Or it could just be chaos itself.
Oroborous. Mobius loop. Unescapable.
We just have to put up with it.
I'll just have fun with it. Guess what's coming next.
...
Here comes the smiling sun.
I can't sleep very well anymore.
I get up, and an anvil falls on my head.
Take a step forward, and I hit a mousetrap.
Try to eat, the food is stolen by vermin in the walls.
I see the same old people on the street like characters in the background.
I hate it.
I used to love the boxed chaos.
Now it's just boring.
I hate never knowing what's coming. I want to live by a ritualistic schedule.
God knows I try doing that, but after step 1 we have to jump around on the page to even get out of the door in the morning.
Royal "we" of course.
I just want to be able to sleep without being woken up by something-or-other.
Nothing worth hanging myself over, you realise.
I just...
I don't want the rest of my life to be a bananna creme pie to the face.
"Pick up pie!"
*THWACK!*
...
Where did it all go wrong?
As a kid, it's not so noticable. You're a being of chaos - a cliche.
Incarnate.
But life gets boring.
Really boring.
Really quickly.
You go from pyjamas with the power rangers on them to sleeping nude because of your core body temperature.
It's the loss of innocence. The gain of experience. Blake had it pinned down.
But what is it that makes innocence a barrier for chaos?
Maybe I'll never know...
Maybe it's the rose tinted glasses of youth.
Maybe it's just how duller things get. Colour. Events. God knows christmas is never fun when you're an adult.
Or it could just be chaos itself.
Oroborous. Mobius loop. Unescapable.
We just have to put up with it.
I'll just have fun with it. Guess what's coming next.
...
Here comes the smiling sun.
I can't sleep very well anymore.
Wednesday 28 October 2009
Journeyman.
In an instant.
I am there.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
At least it's somewhere.
The Rhine.
I see her crying in the water.
I want to join her.
But I must keep walking.
Cairo.
I gaze into the eyes of a God.
Scarlet and dark.
Judged.
I walk away again.
London.
The old man wails in the city.
He has lost his children.
Lost them to the bombs.
On the hour.
I walk on.
Dublin.
Lost in the sea.
The sea of madness.
Eating my hands.
To avoid strangulation.
Walk!
Boston.
Tea floats.
Coffee sinks.
I go between the two.
To quickly escape.
Texas.
The chair is warm.
Comforting.
Energising.
I condone it.
Next man in.
The Wall.
Long and smokey.
The dragon of the earth.
Beheaded.
The country is blind.
I walk once more.
Darkness.
Cold.
Siberia.
I slow to a crawl.
Crawling.
Paris.
Bad memories.
Painted on the walls.
In the streets.
In red.
I head south.
Perth.
Forgotten often by me.
I sit a while and think of where to go next.
A piece of peace.
I decide.
Home.
It's where the heart is.
But mine is not.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
I find it all over again each time.
And then I remember.
I left it with you.
Six feet under.
And the one place I dare not go.
I am there.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
At least it's somewhere.
The Rhine.
I see her crying in the water.
I want to join her.
But I must keep walking.
Cairo.
I gaze into the eyes of a God.
Scarlet and dark.
Judged.
I walk away again.
London.
The old man wails in the city.
He has lost his children.
Lost them to the bombs.
On the hour.
I walk on.
Dublin.
Lost in the sea.
The sea of madness.
Eating my hands.
To avoid strangulation.
Walk!
Boston.
Tea floats.
Coffee sinks.
I go between the two.
To quickly escape.
Texas.
The chair is warm.
Comforting.
Energising.
I condone it.
Next man in.
The Wall.
Long and smokey.
The dragon of the earth.
Beheaded.
The country is blind.
I walk once more.
Darkness.
Cold.
Siberia.
I slow to a crawl.
Crawling.
Paris.
Bad memories.
Painted on the walls.
In the streets.
In red.
I head south.
Perth.
Forgotten often by me.
I sit a while and think of where to go next.
A piece of peace.
I decide.
Home.
It's where the heart is.
But mine is not.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
I find it all over again each time.
And then I remember.
I left it with you.
Six feet under.
And the one place I dare not go.
Tuesday 27 October 2009
The Rose in the Darkness.
My Queen?
Armin. Come, sit by me.
Why have you summoned me?
Sit. Please.
...
Armin, you know that my husband, the King, is away. Out of the country.
...Yes, my lady.
His annual sojourn. His pilgrimage to the Chapel of Signs.
Yes.
Do you know why he goes this year?
...He fears the Gaed. The warriors of the dawn.
Yes. But that isn't why he has gone.
Then why, my lady?
He fears I have a suitor.
...
Yes. He knows of our love. Our midnight passions.
Am I to die?
No. He does not yet know it is you. He suspects Abom, or Fortzheim.
But he will know?
The altar in the chapel will tell him. It is powerful magic. Ancient magic.
...We must flee.
Ridiculous.
My love?
I cannot be seen to abandon the King.
Then what are we to do?
We? It is you he will kill. Murder.
Demidra, my love. I say "We". I love you and you love me, all we experience shall be together. I won't leave you to the wolves and the guard. If you refuse to go, I must fight too.
You'll be killed. Again, ridiculous. The King has Harmain's magiks around his person - No harm can befall him.
...
There is another course of action.
I must know it, if we are to survive, and love forever more.
One magik dominates the other, you know this. The strong consumes the weak.
You suggest... A dark spell?
No. Just... stronger magik. I know of a spell. A spell, born from love, passion and the earth itself.
...What must be done?
From the garden, pluck a rose, in full bloom, with odd petals. This ancient charm will need both of our bloodlines to empower it.
Blood magik?!
Yes... Ancient, but not evil. Go now, I must prepare the symbols.
...As you wish, my love.
...
...
...
Armin. The rose?
Seventeen petals - the most I could find to hand.
Come.
My love! You are... Nude.
As you should be. Come and step into the circle.
...
Good. Now, the rose.
Here.
I need your hand as well. Push it into mine, the rose sealing our love.
...Aah. It-
Hush. I know, but it won't hurt for long.
...
Now, I need to concentrate. A'ru, Er'rion A'ru. B'ieth An Luscit Sie. Our love, never withers. I command, I know, I feel. Now, Armin - speak your wish!
...I wish to be your love, the King be damned.
And I, I wish for the power to rule by your side forever!
My love?!
Now! Take me upon this altar! Seal out love in blood and fire!
...Yes! My love, yes!
This rose... Between our bodies! An Luscit Sie, Norn Fog I'ana!
It hurts! I love you!
An I'ana! Fog Dower Bon A'ru! My love! My body! My sweat!
Aaahn!
Yiagh!
*SSHIAAAAA...*
Ten years later.
My love?
...Armin.
My queen, It is Viola.
I'm sorry... Viola, your father came to me in a dream.
Your mind wanders, Mother. He is-
I know. What business have you brought me?
The Harrin wish for passage through the city.
Of course.
And the Gaed festival draws close.
Hm. I know...
Mother?
Just a memory, my dear.
...
With all the power in the world. I couldn't save him.
Mother...
Magiks defeat Magiks. Your father... never saw him coming.
I know. We all miss him.
Yet you never shed a tear. The sign of a ruler.
Mother, please.
...With all the power we had... I had. I couldn't save him from...
The assassin, yes...
...Viola. You are a woman now. You deserve the truth.
...
Your father. Armin the Wise. Unifier of the tribes, slayer of the dragons, and more powerful beyond his years. He had enemies.
Obviously, Mother. The Gaed were at the beginnin-
No. Older enemies. With passion and hatred in their cold veins.
...You know who killed him.
...Yes. Rosem.
Who is Rosem?
...The King. Before your father.
You said he died long ago.
Yes... He did. But the strong consume the weak... And there is a price for all magiks done in spite... He rose from the grave, powered by... the unholy.
His hatred.
Yes. The strongest weapon on this earth. Other than love.
Monday 26 October 2009
Setting the Woods on Fire.
She's late. Again.
What's the point in having a day out if she's not gonna bother being on time?!
Is it too much to ask, Lord?
Maybe I'm over-reacting... She's ALWAYS late, so I should really lower my expectations in that regard.
In that regard meaning only to that portion of her character.
Now I'm just over-thinking things.
...
Maybe she made other plans.
It's not beyond her to do that. I'm not the most exciting company, I wouldn't blame her.
I hope she isn't... No. She's not like that.
She could be.
She could be and I just don't know about it.
For all I know, as I sit here, she's out there with some nameless hunk, rubbing against him in a club.
...At 2 in the afternoon?
Hm.
...She could be at the beach. With whole scores of sand covered, muscle-brained morons.
...In a bikini.
...
No! Stop that - Both of it! I don't need that image or that line of thinking.
She's just running late.
...
...
...
She could be hurt.
She could be lying at the side of the road, bleeding to death.
"I've got to get to him! I'm running late as it is!" - CRUNCH.
Limbs motionless.
Braindead.
Oh god...
Again, that has to just be a worst case scenario... I hope.
...
I hope she's worn that yellow dress. With that complexion and build, it just hangs on her so well.
It's also the one she wore in New York... Over the fans, like Marilyn Monroe...
Polka dots...
I didn't think... those things, were still made in polka dots.
I wonder if it was a matching set?
...
Jesus, I need to stop thinking about that! Last thing I need is a stiffy in public!
And then her coming up from behind, frightening me into turning round and BAM!
Erection.
It'd kill the whole mood of the conversation afterwards.
...
Or...
Maybe it'd... excite her.
We'd rush off to the Waterstones/Starbucks toilet and...
Make music together. Perfect harmony.
...
I think... I'd be happy, married to her.
Me, working 9-to-5 at the ...wherever does 9-to-5 in this day and age.
Her, working a half day, maybe a spot of painting, some cleaning...
And the kids. Victor and... She'd name the girl, I don't have a flair for girl's names.
We'd be happy...
I'd be in Heaven.
...
But then there's Hell.
Loveless marriage.
Gold-digger.
Bratty kids.
Working my fingers to the bone so she can sit on her fat arse all day...
...
I don't know why I bother...
She'll never be into me... So why do I try?
...
I have to try.
I've put too much into this wooing to give up now...
I need to ask her...
...
And she'll say no.
Cut your losses, Jimmy.
Go spend the money in your pocket on something selfish and needlessly violent.
I hear John Woo has a new film out...
...
10 seconds. I'll look for her.
If she isn't there, her loss. My gain.
I'll say I had something important thrown onto me at the last minute at work, she'll understand...
Okay. 10.
9.
8. Nothing so far.
7.
6.
5. No sign.
4.
3.
2.
1.
...
1 and a half...
...
Nothing.
I'm done.
"Jim?!"
"GAH!"
"Sorry, the meeting took a little longer than I expected."
"Oh, hey, no worries."
"And I've got to get back ASAP."
"...That's fine."
"Okay! Let's go get a coffee."
"Lead on, Macduff!"
...
Whipped.
Sunday 25 October 2009
My Life in Fractures.
Nose - 5 years old.
I hit an incoming door. My uncle Mike was on the other side of it. He couldn't have seen it coming, he was in the habit of busting in on us with "Bravado".
I had to wear the mask for a while.
Left forearm, compound - 8 years old.
Fell out of a tree. I was down at the lake with my parents and some friends. Someone, I don't remember who, dared me to climb to the top of a tree over the lake, just drooping over it. My dad went nuts, I panicked, I hit the water badly.
In a cast for months. Pretty covered with ink by the end of it.
Left index and middle finger - 9 years old.
My sister shut these fingers in the car door. Old station wagon. It was an accident, I think - I don't remember. They were more worried about me having tetnus or blood poisoning from the rust on the car.
Strapped up pretty good.
Rebreak. Left Forearm - 14 years old.
Football injury. I was a running back. I got taken out by an opposing quarterback. I fell onto it normally, but it couldn't take it. I heard it go, and so did he. He went to the emergency room with me, my parents weren't there that day for the game. Darren became one of my best friends after that day.
Cast - Darren signed it first, then Cindy. Max came in a did barbed wire over the base, next to my elbow.
Right big toe - 19 years old.
Selling tacky shit door to door for Uncle Mike. Mormon took offence to my "patter", and slammed the door on me - my toe was just about over the line. Lucky me.
Kept off of my feet for a while.
Right leg - 23 years old.
Aspen. Snowboarding. A long fall into a tree and a snow pile. Hot chocolate. I write a fairly good story in the time I have off - Cindy says I have the knack for writing.
God knows how long I was bedridden.
Right wrist - 27 years old.
Fell from a ladder helping Darren and Marina decorate their baby's room.
Short cast. No room to sign.
Left Ankle - 34 years young. Today.
So here I sit. On a laptop. Funny story.
I got out of the SUV, dropping Frieda and Donny off at school. I get out and slip on the ice in the gutter. My ankle and foot somehow get caught in a storm drain. People try to pull me out, but that made the break worse. I wish the writer's guild had medical insurance.
Looks like I have plenty of time on my hands.
Maybe I'll write something.
Saturday 24 October 2009
The Spiral.
John? Are you here?
Marie, up here.
People are worried about you. Where have you been?
I've been busy. Sorry, too busy to let you know it seems.
What have you been doing?
Just working.
At the office?
No. Personal project.
Redecoration? I see you've done ...something, to the floor.
The mosaic? Do you like it?
It's nice. I like the shape and the images.
Thank you. It's my own design.
I didn't see you as the type.
For mosaic?
For... anything artistic really.
Good to know, haha.
So is it just this? Or is there anything else?
Just some aethetic changes in the apartment.
I see.
You sound pensive.
No, I just... We're worried.
You said.
It's been two weeks. The office thought you were really sick, they called Mike.
Then why did you ask if I was at the office?
Just... You dropped off of the face of the earth.
That was kinda the intention - I wanted to be uninterrupted. Only person who has actually seen me up until now was the kid from the chinese down the street.
What's so important that you couldn't have told us?
...Come up. I'll show you.
Alright...
...
...What is all this?
It's... complicated. This is something a lot older than any of us.
What does that mean?
I can't begin to explain. So... I'll show you. Stand back.
*KACHUNG*
Ok... You built a spot light.
Just wait.
*Vruuuuu...*
What is that?!
That, Marie, Is a ghost.
...They don't exist.
Then what's that?
They can't exist.
Suspend your disbelief for a second.
This is some kind of trick.
No, it isn't. See the window above?
It's like the mosaic. The seashell pattern.
This is a ghost engine.
What?
It can make ghosts visible, as long as they stay in the light. And it's warm to them, unlike anything else - so they don't want to leave.
That doesn't hurt them?
No. They're happy.
Oh.
But it's not finished.
How? This looks pretty complete.
For one, the light is wrong - it's meant to be the whole spiral of the lens, not just the centre - I need to as a prism or something.
So there could be more ghosts?
Exactly. Then there's the more serious problem.
What's that?
This is a beacon. To ghosts and other things.
Other things?
Demons. They can cause a lot of chaos.
Wait, so you can summon the devil?!
No - A devil. Demons are creatures of chaos - they do evil but that's normal to them, and evil to us. It's semantics.
So you have demons running around your house?
No, just here. See the seals around the room?
The circles on the wall? The red paint?
Yes. They keep them in. They can get back when the light goes on.
This is a huge discovery!
Yes... The prisms are ready to go up.
You could do so much work with this!
Theres a problem though...
You could find a way to summon family members to people! Make a profit!
If the light is bigger - bigger... things, can get up here.
This could be a whole new business for you! For us!!
So I need to reinforce the seals. Make them bigger, more powerful.
...What are you saying, sorry - I was just thinking out loud.
No. I'm sorry. Love you...
Wha-
*KACHUNK!*
Hurk!
...Sorry, Marie. But I need more paint. The spiral needs more power.
...
Ha. What am I saying? Dead men tell no-
*Vruuuuu...*
...Marie. I must have forgotten to turn off the light. This must be awkward, I know it is to me.
...
Why are you pointing?
*Vree... ee... ee...*
Hm. Lucky I have surge protection for this kind of activity. You'll get used to it eventually. Hell, I could even get you out of the room at some point, there are ways over the seals.
...
Ouch! What the?!
...
Oh... I see. Lucky I'm reinforcing the seals. Your little friends wont be able to-
...
Ah! fucker! Gonna have to do something about this. This isn't very positive behaviour!
...
Agh! Jesus christ!
...
Stop it!!
...
Huuuurgh... Please.
...
Ack...
...
...
...
Marie, up here.
People are worried about you. Where have you been?
I've been busy. Sorry, too busy to let you know it seems.
What have you been doing?
Just working.
At the office?
No. Personal project.
Redecoration? I see you've done ...something, to the floor.
The mosaic? Do you like it?
It's nice. I like the shape and the images.
Thank you. It's my own design.
I didn't see you as the type.
For mosaic?
For... anything artistic really.
Good to know, haha.
So is it just this? Or is there anything else?
Just some aethetic changes in the apartment.
I see.
You sound pensive.
No, I just... We're worried.
You said.
It's been two weeks. The office thought you were really sick, they called Mike.
Then why did you ask if I was at the office?
Just... You dropped off of the face of the earth.
That was kinda the intention - I wanted to be uninterrupted. Only person who has actually seen me up until now was the kid from the chinese down the street.
What's so important that you couldn't have told us?
...Come up. I'll show you.
Alright...
...
...What is all this?
It's... complicated. This is something a lot older than any of us.
What does that mean?
I can't begin to explain. So... I'll show you. Stand back.
*KACHUNG*
Ok... You built a spot light.
Just wait.
*Vruuuuu...*
What is that?!
That, Marie, Is a ghost.
...They don't exist.
Then what's that?
They can't exist.
Suspend your disbelief for a second.
This is some kind of trick.
No, it isn't. See the window above?
It's like the mosaic. The seashell pattern.
This is a ghost engine.
What?
It can make ghosts visible, as long as they stay in the light. And it's warm to them, unlike anything else - so they don't want to leave.
That doesn't hurt them?
No. They're happy.
Oh.
But it's not finished.
How? This looks pretty complete.
For one, the light is wrong - it's meant to be the whole spiral of the lens, not just the centre - I need to as a prism or something.
So there could be more ghosts?
Exactly. Then there's the more serious problem.
What's that?
This is a beacon. To ghosts and other things.
Other things?
Demons. They can cause a lot of chaos.
Wait, so you can summon the devil?!
No - A devil. Demons are creatures of chaos - they do evil but that's normal to them, and evil to us. It's semantics.
So you have demons running around your house?
No, just here. See the seals around the room?
The circles on the wall? The red paint?
Yes. They keep them in. They can get back when the light goes on.
This is a huge discovery!
Yes... The prisms are ready to go up.
You could do so much work with this!
Theres a problem though...
You could find a way to summon family members to people! Make a profit!
If the light is bigger - bigger... things, can get up here.
This could be a whole new business for you! For us!!
So I need to reinforce the seals. Make them bigger, more powerful.
...What are you saying, sorry - I was just thinking out loud.
No. I'm sorry. Love you...
Wha-
*KACHUNK!*
Hurk!
...Sorry, Marie. But I need more paint. The spiral needs more power.
...
Ha. What am I saying? Dead men tell no-
*Vruuuuu...*
...Marie. I must have forgotten to turn off the light. This must be awkward, I know it is to me.
...
Why are you pointing?
*Vree... ee... ee...*
Hm. Lucky I have surge protection for this kind of activity. You'll get used to it eventually. Hell, I could even get you out of the room at some point, there are ways over the seals.
...
Ouch! What the?!
...
Oh... I see. Lucky I'm reinforcing the seals. Your little friends wont be able to-
...
Ah! fucker! Gonna have to do something about this. This isn't very positive behaviour!
...
Agh! Jesus christ!
...
Stop it!!
...
Huuuurgh... Please.
...
Ack...
...
...
...
Thursday 22 October 2009
Train of Thought #2.
Love.
Heart.
Hate.
Passion.
Action.
Instinct.
Animal.
Wild.
Raw.
Deep.
Grasping.
Claws.
Cutting.
Tearing.
Rift.
Space.
Star.
Moon.
Tide.
Running.
Swift.
Sparrow.
Hawk.
Prey.
Consume.
Devour.
Survive.
Live.
Life.
Love.
Heart.
Hate.
Passion.
Action.
Instinct.
Animal.
Wild.
Raw.
Deep.
Grasping.
Claws.
Cutting.
Tearing.
Rift.
Space.
Star.
Moon.
Tide.
Running.
Swift.
Sparrow.
Hawk.
Prey.
Consume.
Devour.
Survive.
Live.
Life.
Love.
Wednesday 21 October 2009
Train of Thought #1.
Train.
Rail.
Speed.
Power.
Glory.
Victory.
Defeat.
Loss.
Death.
Afterlife.
Soul.
Karma.
Punishment.
Sin.
Seven.
Eight.
Full.
Sick.
Disease.
Rotten.
Darkness.
Shadow.
Light.
Purity.
Angel.
Devil.
Horn.
Beast.
Fang.
Wild.
Frenzy.
Rumble.
Quake.
Shatter.
Scatter.
Broken.
Repair.
Working.
Moving.
Speed.
Car.
Road.
Fast.
Train.
Rail.
Speed.
Power.
Glory.
Victory.
Defeat.
Loss.
Death.
Afterlife.
Soul.
Karma.
Punishment.
Sin.
Seven.
Eight.
Full.
Sick.
Disease.
Rotten.
Darkness.
Shadow.
Light.
Purity.
Angel.
Devil.
Horn.
Beast.
Fang.
Wild.
Frenzy.
Rumble.
Quake.
Shatter.
Scatter.
Broken.
Repair.
Working.
Moving.
Speed.
Car.
Road.
Fast.
Train.
Tuesday 20 October 2009
Missing Something...
I still don't see this working.
You're just a pessimist.
I'm a logical fucking being. This is insane.
I know. Just go over the list again.
Fine... Purple.
Our underline colour scheme - purple, red and black.
Duties.
I'm defence, you're crowd control and ...whoever we choose is the gunner.
I still say Mary.
Mary winces when opening a can of cola, let alone firing a gun or two.
Then who?
I say Mark - he owns a gun, that saves time.
It's an air rifle, and he's inbred.
I won't have you talk about my friends that way.
Urrgh... we can advertise.
There we go. Next?
Costumes.
The hard part - none of us are of an average body type.
There's Savallis' - they do costumes, but it would cost a bomb. We could home make our own?
I suppose. But I can't sew.
Mary can.
No... I bet even she can't sew Kevlar and other hard textiles.
Well...
Exactly. Next.
Weapons/minions.
Minions are easy - am-drammers, nerds and even bums if we promise some food and a garage to sleep in.
That's cruel and unusual.
I know. Great, isn't it? And as for weapons, this is America.
Fair enough. Lastly is the theme/name of our group.
Ah... Where we dried up last night.
Nothing is purple and red, or purple and black.
Beetles ar-
No to beetles.
...Fine.
Maybe we could just be generic future tech guys.
That's boring.
Any other ideas?
Dangerous plants? We could have gas weaponry.
That would require effort. And chemicals that could be traced by the government.
Ah.
The con is solid - we could always wait to see what the media calls us.
Absolutely.
All we need to do is the charity con and we'll graduate to bank robberies and ransoms.
Agreed.
You still good to do it?
Sure - beats actually working.
Supervillainy pays - and it will.
Monday 19 October 2009
Hero for Hire. Unaffiliated.
2 convoys, a bodyguard mission and the annual convention circuit.
Not too bad if I say so myself.
There's a lot of competition in my line of work, so you have to bring something unique to the table to get noticed.
1 - I stay until the job is done.
2 - I only charge extra if my tech is damaged, and even then it's never the full repair fee.
3 - I work for free if it's my nemesis or if any related innocents die.
That always seems to work.
And it's not like some grandstanding supergroups I could mention who turn up, save the day and then stick around for the media. I go in, get it done, and leave - Of course, I don't spend any of the money they give me upfront until the job is done, that would just be in poor taste if I re-fit my lair or buy a quantum dis-integrator, and someone ends up dying.
That's the way I roll. That's the way "The Autocrat" rolls.
I'm not opposed to team ups. Just ones with the big 3 teams.
The "Action Men" are a bunch of chauvinistic assholes. "The New Breed" are elitist kids, but their faces sell lunchboxes and t-shirts. Kids these days don't know who the real heroes are.
And then there's the "Friends of Justice". Bullshitters. All they care about is the fame and fortune. Oh sure, they save the world now and again but are they humble? No! They know how strong they are and flaunt it. It isn't even subtle.
It's people like "The Middle Men" and "The Open Rangers" - guys out there actually helping their communities and country. Hell, Gal-a-Tear, the Ranger's emotopath went out to Afghanistan. Poor girl came back in a coffin, but she got a state funeral - all the trimmings.
Not to mention the incident at the wake. Fuckin' Friction - the FoJ second-in-command, trying to say to some network about how they were close, like best friends. I overhear this and the conversation starts.
Hey, Friction.
Excuse me?! I'm in the middle of an interview.
I can see that. Tell me something.
What?
What was Gal's real name?
...Wha-
Her name - since you two were so close. I'm sure you'd be able to tell me.
Uh... I gotta-
No, you don't.
No, I really do.
Fuckin' speeders - too fast for their own good. They don't even think.
So, obviously, I get a little roughed up later by Friction and "The Dude". How is that even a name, at least the faggot Friction actually tried to make a good sounding name.
I was drunk, so sue me. I whipped out a man trap from my belt, Dude loses a finger or two. I'm blacklisted by the A listers.
Donovan of the Rangers thanked me. He's an honest guy. He hates the golden boys of America just as much as I do.
I'm doing the convoy in Texas with them. Need to pack actually.
Then there's the conventions. Every hero below "A" goes to those things. Supercon, Capecon and Powercon - those are the big 3.
Hope I see Ms. Demeter again. Damn, she was diggin' me.
Sunday 18 October 2009
Sick of the Blues.
*SKRONK*
Still bunged up?
Yesh...
The meds not doing anything?
Noh...
Hm. Maybe you should get some sleep.
Can't sleep. Won't be able to breathe...
Ah. Sleep or die. The old conundrum - that's why we jump in sleep. A throwback from when we slept in trees, stops us from falling out.
Uh-huh. As interesting as that is, I have an artichle to write.
You sure you should be doing it in this condition?
I need to do something, I can't sit around like you do all day and do nothing.
Ouch. The truth hurts, babe.
Well... I'm not in the mood to pussyfoot around..
Well, maybe some sleep would help.
Stop treating me like a child, David.
Just as soon as you stop acting like a mean drunk, Lily.
...I'm sorry.
It's alright, It's the germs talking.
I've just been thinking.
Oh?
I'm sick.
Evidently.
I'm sick of this life.
In what way?
I don't want to work all my life.
It's the way of the world - you work to eat, you eat to life, you live to f-
No. I know, but... It's just so hollow.
And?
...That was my whole point, and you crashed it with a single word.
Like I said, that's life - it's stupid and hollow. We just find ways of making it interesting.
Like what? I have hobbies, I have a social life.
Like I film pornography - that like of interesting, the subversive kind of interesting.
...You do what?
Film porn. Paid work of course. www.backdatassup.com.
...
Specialising in booty and anal sex.
I GET IT.
All I'm saying is you need to find something you want to do, and do it. I like porn, so I film it.
...I like dogs.
I don't think people would accept that kind of porn.
Shut up. I mean pedigree dogs. Maybe I could do something with crufts...
There we go.
...Thanks honey.
No problem, babe. Now go to sleep, I'll go get you some stronger meds.
Lily later became a judge at the world dog show.
David was arrested for soliciting sex from a minor - no case has been filed yet.
Saturday 17 October 2009
The Curse.
It has been 3 years since we opened the tomb of Anochmodon, the Golden Pharoah.
Of the ten of us who went in, Only I, Amelia Skinner, am alive.
I must start from the beginning.
We went into Cairo on 10th of May, 1919. By this time most of the tombs had been discovered or well and truly lost to mankind. My husband, Patrick, was certain he knew of the location of Anoch-Ka, the pyramid of the deceased Pharoah. He came of the tomb's location in one of two ways, I have now decided, since he was a secretive man by nature, keeping many from even I, his own wife. In december of 1918, he awoke from a dream, covered in sweat, drenching the sheets we had slept in. I remember it vividly as he began to remble about the "City in the sands". The doctors gave him a clean bill of health, but I was never so sure. He became obsessive, often taking long trips to the Africas. I feel it was most likely on one of those trips where he gained some nugget of information.
In Cairo, returning to the point, we stayed as a guest to a wealth landowner whom my husband had become aquainted, a Mr. Shier. Shier had moved into the city some years ago, saying that the climate agreed with him. He and my Husband had, apparently, gotten very drunk one night and Shier agreed to fund the whole venture.
Along with them came two of Shier's servants - Hamon and Duvais. Duvais, a frenchman, was a chubby and personable man, often singing old folk songs whenever bored. I came to know him well in our journey. Hamon was a gaunt man, the opposite to Duvais - often sticking close to Shier, keeping their whispering secret. I saw why Patrick and Shier became friends.
From Dublin, came Doctor Austin. A heavy smoker, always with a pipe hanging from his lips.
From Essex, one Professor Bixby and his wife, Emily. The professor always had a childlike quality to him, always astounded by history and science, odd from a man of his qualifications. Emily was a chatterbox, but nice enough.
The other 3 in our party were out guides. I never made any attempt to know them by name.
The professor, Shier and my husband all said the same thing in terms of location. So we soon set off from the city.
The caravan we travelled in was that of a trader called Hassan. He agreed to help us in exchange for a cut of the "treasure". Shier said there would be more than enough for everyone, not that I was interested you understand.
I was just happy seeing my Patrick happy. He had, prior to his epiphany in bed, been a stoic man. Gentle, kind, but very, very quiet. He always seemed to have a dark shadow following him, even when I had met him. I was more than glad to see him energised by the adventure, and to go along with him.
I would have followed him to the ends of the earth. And I guess I really did.
Eventually, we reached the location - a huge rocky plateau in the middle of nowhere. We wondered wether there was anything there at all, but, sure enough - A narrow stair was found under a huge rock to the side of the impass. Patrick said this was just the tip of the iceburg and ran, literally, down the stairs.
Like lambs to the slaughter we followed.
Our first casualty was one of the guides. At the bottom of the stairs was a huge drop into a deep abyss. The poor man fell down the stairs and... Well, we didn't hear him hit the bottom.
Cautiously now, we passed over the small path down to the hidden city, now visible to us in our position. The city was titanic - houses, statues and a huge temple towards the back of it, seemingly built into the rock face itself.
On the wall we held ourselves against, there were glyphic pictures, seemingly documenting the construction of the city and the life of the Pharoah.
We should have noticed the corpses piling up as we went along. But we often miss the most obvious things in front of our eyes.
We did however notice the warning. The huge visage of the Pharoah himself, both great and terrible, killing those around it with it's pure magnificence. The professor interpreted it as the possibilty of a curse, but we disregarded it in the heat of the moment.
On level footing, we entered the city, passing over the threshold, onto the hewn stone streets. The buildings were simple, for the workers.
Inside each building were the life possessions of the workers who lived there. Including their bodies. Mummified, laid in the beds they slept in. We had split up at this point, into 2 groups. I remember the other group finding a single, unmummified skeleton, in what seemed to be a guardhouse. Shier joked that the man was damned by occupation, but frankly no-one laughed. It was sad. The lengths people go to in service of a king or royal. It must have been that he was the last man to mummify as worker, as he was the only one not to be done in such a manner. It was as I said, sad, at least from our modernistic perspective.
We reached the temple. It was finely detailed, more so than the worker houses. It seemed to take hours to get up the stairs, though that may have been from the heat.
Inside, we were astonished. It was gold - the whole thing. In the centre was a huge sarcophagus - larger than any that had been discovered before. Most were inside of a large stone coffin, for want of a different word., and then inside another, and another, until the final golden death robe of the ancient king. As this was all gold, we had to assume that the rest of it was as well.
There was no way we could get out with it - even if Emily and myself were to help. Shier decided we should take back proof to Cairo and enlist help from there. Close by were several golden plates and jeweled ingots, and we were each given some to carry back. Patrick, Hamon, the professor and Shier each took a canopic jar - the storage of the organs of the deceased king - to take as consise proof of the discovery.
Then is when the troubles truly began.
As we went to leave the temple, a huge state in the centre of the city cracked. We heard it from where we were, just in time to see the hand of the god-king fall. Needless to say, we quickened our pace.
Eyes, followed us through the city. Incorporial eyes burning into our bodies. I felt quite... Odd. Emily later siad to me that she was a tad "turned on" by the experience at the time, despite our later experiences. An odd one she was.
As we reached the centre of the city, our path was blocked. The one we had previously taken was blocked by the arm of the statue. A cruel irony.
We went by a different route. At one point we came across a house in the worker district. It's inhabitants - 3 members of the family - were all in the doorway, lying as they were before, but moved. A haunting sight. We quickly passed, though as we did, both Duvais and I swear to have heard a shuffling from behind us.
At the gates of the city, we turned to look back at the temple.
There, at the top of the stairs, in all of his gruesome magnificence - the God-king himself stood. Just watching us. He was in all gold and red, I distinctly remember - a white cape attatched to him draped dead across the floor. His mask was... Deathly still. His beautiful face frozen, just staring.
None of us could say a thing. After a while of just staring... We walked out of the city.
A scream came from the city. A moan of sheer power and authority. The king spoke and his subjects answered in kind. We ran, as carefully as we could, back along the causeway.
Behind us, we saw, the skeletal figure of the last guard stumbled out of the gates after us, sword in hand.
We reached the stairs. Emily, poor girl, looked back again. She screamed and lost her footing, joining the guide in the darkness. The professor didn't notice until we had gotten far away.
I too looked back, but stifled my own yell. I saw the Pharoah, walking down the stairs of the temple.
As we managed to reach the exit, Doctor Austin and Shier pushed the stone across the entrance once more, blocking any of the walking dead from following us.
The professor, shaken as he was, and Doctor Austin both said we had shared some mass hallucination. Impossible. Ludicrous. Utterly insane.
We never enlisted any help in Cairo - choosing to just go our seperate ways once more, never to speak of this incident again.
2 months passed. Shier, we heard, fell ill. A sickness of the heart. It failed soon after the report we recieved.
Hamon went insane and walked into the desert. He loved his master, in the way of the somomites, I mean. Poor man. Duvais came and stayed with us as our guest.
The professor was lost without his wife. He lost his innocent demeanor, becoming a mean drunk and a worse person. He threw himself into the Thames. He joined his love. I don't pity him anymore.
The doctor passed to a malignant disease of the lungs. He had showed no signs of it before.
Our other guide was murdered. We recieved a telegram from his next of kin. He had left something to us in his will.
It was Shier's jar. One of the stomach.
The professor had the intestines.
Patrick's was of the lungs.
We can only assume Hamon's was the liver - it was never found.
The 3 of us in the house grew close, the survivors of some grand scheme of misfortune. Duvais often confided in me and I too him since Patrick wasn't the type to do so. We often saw Patrick in the house watching us in the garden. He was beginning to scare me.
One night, after I had retired to bed, there was an arguement. Patrick accused Duvais of trying to seduce me - tempting me away from him. Duvais was innocent, I knew it, what we talked of was nothing of that manner.
There was a gun shot. I ran down and saw waht remained of my poor Duvais, sprawled across the room. A revolver in my husband's hand. He was crying. He ran out of the house crying for mercy from God. I heard the next shot a minute later.
I am alone now. But I feel the fingers of death at my door.
I am unsteady on my feet. For no reason, I'm wasting away. IS this my punishment? To slowly fade and die? I didn't do anything more than the others! Why is my curse so much more... vile?!
I feel like I need to sleep.
I must... Sleep.
Of the ten of us who went in, Only I, Amelia Skinner, am alive.
I must start from the beginning.
We went into Cairo on 10th of May, 1919. By this time most of the tombs had been discovered or well and truly lost to mankind. My husband, Patrick, was certain he knew of the location of Anoch-Ka, the pyramid of the deceased Pharoah. He came of the tomb's location in one of two ways, I have now decided, since he was a secretive man by nature, keeping many from even I, his own wife. In december of 1918, he awoke from a dream, covered in sweat, drenching the sheets we had slept in. I remember it vividly as he began to remble about the "City in the sands". The doctors gave him a clean bill of health, but I was never so sure. He became obsessive, often taking long trips to the Africas. I feel it was most likely on one of those trips where he gained some nugget of information.
In Cairo, returning to the point, we stayed as a guest to a wealth landowner whom my husband had become aquainted, a Mr. Shier. Shier had moved into the city some years ago, saying that the climate agreed with him. He and my Husband had, apparently, gotten very drunk one night and Shier agreed to fund the whole venture.
Along with them came two of Shier's servants - Hamon and Duvais. Duvais, a frenchman, was a chubby and personable man, often singing old folk songs whenever bored. I came to know him well in our journey. Hamon was a gaunt man, the opposite to Duvais - often sticking close to Shier, keeping their whispering secret. I saw why Patrick and Shier became friends.
From Dublin, came Doctor Austin. A heavy smoker, always with a pipe hanging from his lips.
From Essex, one Professor Bixby and his wife, Emily. The professor always had a childlike quality to him, always astounded by history and science, odd from a man of his qualifications. Emily was a chatterbox, but nice enough.
The other 3 in our party were out guides. I never made any attempt to know them by name.
The professor, Shier and my husband all said the same thing in terms of location. So we soon set off from the city.
The caravan we travelled in was that of a trader called Hassan. He agreed to help us in exchange for a cut of the "treasure". Shier said there would be more than enough for everyone, not that I was interested you understand.
I was just happy seeing my Patrick happy. He had, prior to his epiphany in bed, been a stoic man. Gentle, kind, but very, very quiet. He always seemed to have a dark shadow following him, even when I had met him. I was more than glad to see him energised by the adventure, and to go along with him.
I would have followed him to the ends of the earth. And I guess I really did.
Eventually, we reached the location - a huge rocky plateau in the middle of nowhere. We wondered wether there was anything there at all, but, sure enough - A narrow stair was found under a huge rock to the side of the impass. Patrick said this was just the tip of the iceburg and ran, literally, down the stairs.
Like lambs to the slaughter we followed.
Our first casualty was one of the guides. At the bottom of the stairs was a huge drop into a deep abyss. The poor man fell down the stairs and... Well, we didn't hear him hit the bottom.
Cautiously now, we passed over the small path down to the hidden city, now visible to us in our position. The city was titanic - houses, statues and a huge temple towards the back of it, seemingly built into the rock face itself.
On the wall we held ourselves against, there were glyphic pictures, seemingly documenting the construction of the city and the life of the Pharoah.
We should have noticed the corpses piling up as we went along. But we often miss the most obvious things in front of our eyes.
We did however notice the warning. The huge visage of the Pharoah himself, both great and terrible, killing those around it with it's pure magnificence. The professor interpreted it as the possibilty of a curse, but we disregarded it in the heat of the moment.
On level footing, we entered the city, passing over the threshold, onto the hewn stone streets. The buildings were simple, for the workers.
Inside each building were the life possessions of the workers who lived there. Including their bodies. Mummified, laid in the beds they slept in. We had split up at this point, into 2 groups. I remember the other group finding a single, unmummified skeleton, in what seemed to be a guardhouse. Shier joked that the man was damned by occupation, but frankly no-one laughed. It was sad. The lengths people go to in service of a king or royal. It must have been that he was the last man to mummify as worker, as he was the only one not to be done in such a manner. It was as I said, sad, at least from our modernistic perspective.
We reached the temple. It was finely detailed, more so than the worker houses. It seemed to take hours to get up the stairs, though that may have been from the heat.
Inside, we were astonished. It was gold - the whole thing. In the centre was a huge sarcophagus - larger than any that had been discovered before. Most were inside of a large stone coffin, for want of a different word., and then inside another, and another, until the final golden death robe of the ancient king. As this was all gold, we had to assume that the rest of it was as well.
There was no way we could get out with it - even if Emily and myself were to help. Shier decided we should take back proof to Cairo and enlist help from there. Close by were several golden plates and jeweled ingots, and we were each given some to carry back. Patrick, Hamon, the professor and Shier each took a canopic jar - the storage of the organs of the deceased king - to take as consise proof of the discovery.
Then is when the troubles truly began.
As we went to leave the temple, a huge state in the centre of the city cracked. We heard it from where we were, just in time to see the hand of the god-king fall. Needless to say, we quickened our pace.
Eyes, followed us through the city. Incorporial eyes burning into our bodies. I felt quite... Odd. Emily later siad to me that she was a tad "turned on" by the experience at the time, despite our later experiences. An odd one she was.
As we reached the centre of the city, our path was blocked. The one we had previously taken was blocked by the arm of the statue. A cruel irony.
We went by a different route. At one point we came across a house in the worker district. It's inhabitants - 3 members of the family - were all in the doorway, lying as they were before, but moved. A haunting sight. We quickly passed, though as we did, both Duvais and I swear to have heard a shuffling from behind us.
At the gates of the city, we turned to look back at the temple.
There, at the top of the stairs, in all of his gruesome magnificence - the God-king himself stood. Just watching us. He was in all gold and red, I distinctly remember - a white cape attatched to him draped dead across the floor. His mask was... Deathly still. His beautiful face frozen, just staring.
None of us could say a thing. After a while of just staring... We walked out of the city.
A scream came from the city. A moan of sheer power and authority. The king spoke and his subjects answered in kind. We ran, as carefully as we could, back along the causeway.
Behind us, we saw, the skeletal figure of the last guard stumbled out of the gates after us, sword in hand.
We reached the stairs. Emily, poor girl, looked back again. She screamed and lost her footing, joining the guide in the darkness. The professor didn't notice until we had gotten far away.
I too looked back, but stifled my own yell. I saw the Pharoah, walking down the stairs of the temple.
As we managed to reach the exit, Doctor Austin and Shier pushed the stone across the entrance once more, blocking any of the walking dead from following us.
The professor, shaken as he was, and Doctor Austin both said we had shared some mass hallucination. Impossible. Ludicrous. Utterly insane.
We never enlisted any help in Cairo - choosing to just go our seperate ways once more, never to speak of this incident again.
2 months passed. Shier, we heard, fell ill. A sickness of the heart. It failed soon after the report we recieved.
Hamon went insane and walked into the desert. He loved his master, in the way of the somomites, I mean. Poor man. Duvais came and stayed with us as our guest.
The professor was lost without his wife. He lost his innocent demeanor, becoming a mean drunk and a worse person. He threw himself into the Thames. He joined his love. I don't pity him anymore.
The doctor passed to a malignant disease of the lungs. He had showed no signs of it before.
Our other guide was murdered. We recieved a telegram from his next of kin. He had left something to us in his will.
It was Shier's jar. One of the stomach.
The professor had the intestines.
Patrick's was of the lungs.
We can only assume Hamon's was the liver - it was never found.
The 3 of us in the house grew close, the survivors of some grand scheme of misfortune. Duvais often confided in me and I too him since Patrick wasn't the type to do so. We often saw Patrick in the house watching us in the garden. He was beginning to scare me.
One night, after I had retired to bed, there was an arguement. Patrick accused Duvais of trying to seduce me - tempting me away from him. Duvais was innocent, I knew it, what we talked of was nothing of that manner.
There was a gun shot. I ran down and saw waht remained of my poor Duvais, sprawled across the room. A revolver in my husband's hand. He was crying. He ran out of the house crying for mercy from God. I heard the next shot a minute later.
I am alone now. But I feel the fingers of death at my door.
I am unsteady on my feet. For no reason, I'm wasting away. IS this my punishment? To slowly fade and die? I didn't do anything more than the others! Why is my curse so much more... vile?!
I feel like I need to sleep.
I must... Sleep.
Friday 16 October 2009
Ancient Gods Like Their Grog.
Feckin... Fe... *UURP!*
Fecking Silk.
Bitch.
Why'd she have to do that. Stupid kid.
We're a dying breed. Old spice and a new romantic.
It's a killing phrase, "I love you". Any kind of electricity between you just gets shot like lightning.
The storm of love.
Bullcrap. I can talk big, but it's just awkward tension. Dead air.
You don't know what to say to one another.
I'm not made for playing nice. I'm a man of action, not words.
I'm a hunter.
One of the old breed, the real old ones of this pissed isle.
But the upper classes saw to my trade becoming little more than sport.
The fox is alone, they dont even get a fighting chance, all they do is run.
That's why I try to even the odds.
Too easy to scare a horse. Even easier to kill a man.
How can she love me knowing what I do?
I mean, I have a certain... gruff charm, but that's just from exposure.
The people I deal with in this line of work.
Al, Britt... the goddamed dragon.
Britt's the worst. She's been an alcoholic since '88. And she didn't even admit that till then. She'd been going since the 70's. Fashionplate though, I'll give her that. Always with the times.
Al's... Al. The guy just oozes age. Doesn't look a day over 163. Can't argue with him though. He cares about what he does.
Theres Ben - anal retentive son of a bitch. Obsessed with time. It'll be the end of him.
Jock's a good sort. Scottish, but what can he do about it?
The dragon... Urrgh. As a species, they're bad enough - but that accent? Makes it worse to listen to.
We're all of the old caste. Barely see each other now...
Need to make arrangements soon.
Can't stop thinking about Silk.
Nice gal. Too nice for me.
Silk and Herne. Kinda fits... But I'd rather not hurt her.
Go knows I don't want to. But I'd end up doing so.
I'm a hunter. All we can do is kill.
Fecking Silk.
Bitch.
Why'd she have to do that. Stupid kid.
We're a dying breed. Old spice and a new romantic.
It's a killing phrase, "I love you". Any kind of electricity between you just gets shot like lightning.
The storm of love.
Bullcrap. I can talk big, but it's just awkward tension. Dead air.
You don't know what to say to one another.
I'm not made for playing nice. I'm a man of action, not words.
I'm a hunter.
One of the old breed, the real old ones of this pissed isle.
But the upper classes saw to my trade becoming little more than sport.
The fox is alone, they dont even get a fighting chance, all they do is run.
That's why I try to even the odds.
Too easy to scare a horse. Even easier to kill a man.
How can she love me knowing what I do?
I mean, I have a certain... gruff charm, but that's just from exposure.
The people I deal with in this line of work.
Al, Britt... the goddamed dragon.
Britt's the worst. She's been an alcoholic since '88. And she didn't even admit that till then. She'd been going since the 70's. Fashionplate though, I'll give her that. Always with the times.
Al's... Al. The guy just oozes age. Doesn't look a day over 163. Can't argue with him though. He cares about what he does.
Theres Ben - anal retentive son of a bitch. Obsessed with time. It'll be the end of him.
Jock's a good sort. Scottish, but what can he do about it?
The dragon... Urrgh. As a species, they're bad enough - but that accent? Makes it worse to listen to.
We're all of the old caste. Barely see each other now...
Need to make arrangements soon.
Can't stop thinking about Silk.
Nice gal. Too nice for me.
Silk and Herne. Kinda fits... But I'd rather not hurt her.
Go knows I don't want to. But I'd end up doing so.
I'm a hunter. All we can do is kill.
Thursday 15 October 2009
When is a ring not round?
I've got half a mind to put his teeth down his throat.
Bastard.
You don't do that to other guys - except for jobbers, and the real old guys who do it to you first.
Fucking eye. It's gonna be black, I can feel it.
Bet this is gonna screw up my push too. I'm on the brink of one they said.
Bullshit.
Any excuse to not put me over - they were waiting for something like this to happen.
Hell, they could have MADE him potato me.
I'm gonna be stuck in some stupid revenge plot for the next 6 months. They'll stop it after the year's season ends, they always do. Right after "King of the Olympus Crown".
Fucking stupid name. I liked it as "Wrestlefest X-whatever". But it's all about keeping up with the japanese now - ever since ABN started showing AJWA shows late at night. Even the graveyard shift gets better ratings than us.
They deserve it though. Good shit, it's the culture. It was here until the new millenium. Back around the 80's were were number one - merch was the best thing you could have in your contract next to a title. Those were the days...
"Bruiser" Boldfree, the crushin' Russian.
"Prince" Kareem.
"Ol' Top" Frank Masters.
Those were the big guys - or the ones I liked at least. Everyone would talk about Dooley Vs. Gigante being the best match ever - it was 5 minutes long, Gigante could barely hold himself together. Both guys were either drunk or high, it was sloppy as hell.
But the people still say it was the best - the magic of Pro-wrestling.
But now? It's all gimmicked shit and realistic characters. Too many long haired guys now. No odd names, none that you remember.
One thing though, the triple-tag titles were a nice idea. 3 guys who can barely hold a paper cup, let alone an interview or promo - put them all on screen together and it works. Like building a bridge.
Good way for the young guys to get their feet wet...
Gah! ...My eye. Is it bleeding? ...Yeah, little bit.
And now what?
A steak. Raw.
For the eye of course. I'm no Reggie O'Toole. There was a monster heel. The nightmarish irishman - green and black attack. Best thing to come out of the 90's.
Unlike me. I'm no monster. So then... I'm repackaged as a badass. That worked, lucky me. Now I have to yell at little kids everywhere I go.
Lucky I'm on contract. Bet they would have stiffed me out of the cash as well if they could.
Do I still have that card?
...Maybe.
I should give Davis a call. Let him know I'm ready to jump like the rat I am.
Only if I'm stuck without the push though.
Anyone know an all-night Deli?
Bastard.
You don't do that to other guys - except for jobbers, and the real old guys who do it to you first.
Fucking eye. It's gonna be black, I can feel it.
Bet this is gonna screw up my push too. I'm on the brink of one they said.
Bullshit.
Any excuse to not put me over - they were waiting for something like this to happen.
Hell, they could have MADE him potato me.
I'm gonna be stuck in some stupid revenge plot for the next 6 months. They'll stop it after the year's season ends, they always do. Right after "King of the Olympus Crown".
Fucking stupid name. I liked it as "Wrestlefest X-whatever". But it's all about keeping up with the japanese now - ever since ABN started showing AJWA shows late at night. Even the graveyard shift gets better ratings than us.
They deserve it though. Good shit, it's the culture. It was here until the new millenium. Back around the 80's were were number one - merch was the best thing you could have in your contract next to a title. Those were the days...
"Bruiser" Boldfree, the crushin' Russian.
"Prince" Kareem.
"Ol' Top" Frank Masters.
Those were the big guys - or the ones I liked at least. Everyone would talk about Dooley Vs. Gigante being the best match ever - it was 5 minutes long, Gigante could barely hold himself together. Both guys were either drunk or high, it was sloppy as hell.
But the people still say it was the best - the magic of Pro-wrestling.
But now? It's all gimmicked shit and realistic characters. Too many long haired guys now. No odd names, none that you remember.
One thing though, the triple-tag titles were a nice idea. 3 guys who can barely hold a paper cup, let alone an interview or promo - put them all on screen together and it works. Like building a bridge.
Good way for the young guys to get their feet wet...
Gah! ...My eye. Is it bleeding? ...Yeah, little bit.
And now what?
A steak. Raw.
For the eye of course. I'm no Reggie O'Toole. There was a monster heel. The nightmarish irishman - green and black attack. Best thing to come out of the 90's.
Unlike me. I'm no monster. So then... I'm repackaged as a badass. That worked, lucky me. Now I have to yell at little kids everywhere I go.
Lucky I'm on contract. Bet they would have stiffed me out of the cash as well if they could.
Do I still have that card?
...Maybe.
I should give Davis a call. Let him know I'm ready to jump like the rat I am.
Only if I'm stuck without the push though.
Anyone know an all-night Deli?
Wednesday 14 October 2009
Captain Lou Albano
Rest in peace, Capper.
He's doin' the Mario all the way up to the pearly gates - Bringing Heaven some Rock and Wrestling.
He's doin' the Mario all the way up to the pearly gates - Bringing Heaven some Rock and Wrestling.
Tuesday 13 October 2009
In the Midst of a Race Riot.
Excuse me. Sir?
Whut?
Sir, would you mind if I asked you a question?
Uh...
These bottles of lit kerosene you're throwing at the police. Would you say your actions are racially motivated?
Do you realise where you are, little man?!
Yes, but I'm just doing my job. Would you say your own personal actions are racially motivated?
...I guess.
Splendid. Next question. Look out for that rock.
Whoa!
You're welcome. What would you say is your main problem with "The Establishment"?
"The Establishment"? Do you mean "The man"?
If that's what you want to call it.
Uh... This is a race riot. My main problem is my people are being oppressed!
Oh?! Are you the leader of this band? The inciter?
No.
Then how are they-
It's my people. Just like those guys over there are "Your People".
My brother is in that crowd, but other than him I have no connection to those people.
Ugh. You don't get it, man.
Which is why I and my colleagues are doing these surveys.
Wait. Your colleagues?
Me and my group - we're filling out these surveys for those people who "Just don't get" racially based news and situations.
...How many of you are there?
Sixteen. One chose not to come into the crowd, and Marshall's wife is having a baby.
...Boy or Girl?
He wanted it to be a surprise.
Oh.
...
...
Next question. Would you say you are unjustly represented in the media?
Yes! That's one of the reasons we're-
Next. Would you say the violence-
Wait. You're not listening.
Exactly - I just need a yes or a no. Would you-
Didn't you want the real story?
No. Just enough to put together a pamphlet. Tear gas.
Wha-
*TSSSSSSSSHT!*
Thank you for... all *HACK* All the inform... *KAFF*
I... It's alright. I gotta *BORGH* Gotta run.
I hope... *KAHACK* If my superiors call... You'll... *HURK* Be good enough to... Give me a favourable recommendation...
A'ight...
A job well...
*THUNK*
Robert Finnigan - 1974-2009
He died in the line of duty like most civil servants.
NEVER FORGET.
Monday 12 October 2009
The Beat.
Hah...
Hah...
Fuck...
Feels like I'm gonna explode...
I can't... Can't end it here...
Have to move!
Get up!
Get up, you fucker!
I'm on fire!
Just need a second wind...
Just a kick...
Nnngh... Raaaargh!
There we are!
Where is he?!
WHERE IS HE?!!
* * * * *
So you dealt with out little problem?
Yeah... He's in a pool of his own blood.
I'll send Forzei to "Clean up" the mess.
He creeps me out, Boss.
If you could eat anything like a snake, people would feel the same way about you, Torrez.
Yeah, but still.
And people ARE creeped out by you anyway.
Not my fault. It's genetic.
Yeah, doesn't make it any less creepy. Normal people can't grow spines out of their body.
We ain't normal.
True, but it's the principal of the thing. You can do that, I can do this, it's the world we know and love so well. We're the dark side of the moon - the edge unseen by... Most human eyes.
...Fair enough, boss. Can't say I'd put it like that.
And how would you put it?
We're demons. Monsters.
The boogeyman? Haha. That's what I like about you, Tor - You're brutally simple.
That an insult, boss? I don't like insults...
No, an observation, a compliment. Is that a threat, Torrez?
...No. I know you as well as you know me.
Splendid. Have you made the arrangements for phase 4?
Yeah. Gonud and Erriag are ready to ship the stuff to the buyer in Harmony.
I sometimes think if what I'm doing is amoral...
Really?
No. I love the child trade. People always need them and I'm good at getting them. Supply and demand.
I did wonder. Not like you to be that way.
Hm. Get out of here, I need to call some people.
Right.
Get the boys and girls down there moving, with Franks out of the way, we can do what we like.
Right.
* * * * *
I can feel my arms again... That's a good sign.
Boxx. He needs to die.
He dies tonight.
He's got Cassie. He's got my fucking daughter.
He, his "empire", and all of his assets are gonna burn.
He dies... Tonight.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Sunday 11 October 2009
Extracts from my diary of lists.
List of dead celebrities I'd like to have dinner with:
1 - The 3 stooges.
2 - Miss Elizabeth.
3 - Spike Milligan.
4 - Stede Bonnet.
5 - David Carradine.
List of ships I have never sailed on (TYPE):
1 - Junk
2 - Schooner
3 - Galleon
4 - Icebreaker
List of monsters in classical cryptozoology I would give a stiff left to:
1 - Lamassu
2 - Catoblepas
3 - Tengu
4 - Thunderbird
5 - Redcap kobald
List of dead celebrities I WOULDN'T like to have dinner with:
1 - Michael Jackson.
2 - Mussolini.
3 - Shemp Howard, of the 3 stooges.
4 - John Hughes
5 - Jesus. (I appreciate the effort, but I just wouldn't know what to say to him.)
Saturday 10 October 2009
Joy to the World, The Savior...
He's late.
Of course he is. He's ALWAYS late.
But he knows what tonight is, right?
Yeah, I told him. Several times. He gets it.
Did you tell him NOT to be late?
He assured me he wouldn't be.
And yet... Here we are.
Stop your bitching, Harry.
Not my fault - My parents were sticklers for being on time.
Then why expect others to be so?
It's not "Others" or even "Most people" - Just him.
This is oroboros.
What?
It's a circular arguement - you expect him to be late, you know he will be, and you STILL bitch and moan about it.
What should I do then, Jules? Pray?
Haw-de-haw-haw.
Is that his car?
Would he drive a station wagon?
...No.
There we go then. Just be patient.
I am patient. I have sheer temperance under my belt.
That's what I hear.
What?
Ah, there's his car. Get everything ready inside.
Fine.
...
Jules! How are you?!
Hello sir, I can't complain, but-
-But no doubt Harry can, eh? Same old story then.
What about you, sir?
Apart from the hangover from hell, I'll survive.
Spirits?
High, same with the wife. Is everyone here?
Everyone from the list, as per your instructions.
Splendid. And their arrangements?
We couldn't do the room for the Darries, but then again you even said it may be above most craftsmen in the area. We had to substitute it for typewriter room...
Hm. Even though it's a fallback I'm still a little disappointed. We'll have to see how it goes.
And I'm afraid the museum wouldn't allow us usage of the "Brazen Bull". We had to get the iron maiden from the seller in Ottowa instead.
That's a shame. Add the curator to the next list.
Done. We did also manage to get a gibbet and some pilliwinks on the cheap from the same seller.
Pilliwinks?
Thumb screws.
Ah, splendid!
Thought you'd like them. The screws were free actually, on the promise of more purchases in the future.
As long as he gets a Bull at some point I'm more than happy to buy again. Any more substitutions.
No sir.
How are the animals?
The bull is fine. Perfectly docile. The hormones are on standby.
And the other animals?
They still scream and moan. One of them attacked one of the feeders with an iron bar last week.
Good god man.
Punished of course, as an example. No other problems really.
"Really?"
Well, we had to separate the males and females again. And even some of the males from the males. We filmed all the doings of course. Couple even managed it through the bars.
Filthy buggers.
Starting entertainment I thought. They're the opening act.
Good man. My choice to put you as my right hander wasn't misplaced. What's the catch?
Catch?
The icing on the cake. The "Raison d'etre".
Oh I see. Overdose of spanish fly.
Hm. Randy, but there's no "Zing".
Any suggestions?
Snuff it. Behead the female.
Are you sure? Girls of her assets are hard to come by. Considering your clause on "God's natural gifts".
Who is God, Jules?
You sir, a thousand times you!
Exactly. We can use the body again for a time. Make the male constantly on the fly.
And the replacement?
I have a touch of jungle fever.
Aye sir.
Shall we?
Certainly. After you, sir.
...
HONOURED GUESTS AND VILLAINS TO MY CAUSE!
Welcome to my palace of blood...
I, Sebastian St. Sade, Am, at least for tonight, your host, lord, and master.
You each know where you're going and why you are here - so let's not beat around the bush - plenty of time for that later...
Now, the opening act!
Of course he is. He's ALWAYS late.
But he knows what tonight is, right?
Yeah, I told him. Several times. He gets it.
Did you tell him NOT to be late?
He assured me he wouldn't be.
And yet... Here we are.
Stop your bitching, Harry.
Not my fault - My parents were sticklers for being on time.
Then why expect others to be so?
It's not "Others" or even "Most people" - Just him.
This is oroboros.
What?
It's a circular arguement - you expect him to be late, you know he will be, and you STILL bitch and moan about it.
What should I do then, Jules? Pray?
Haw-de-haw-haw.
Is that his car?
Would he drive a station wagon?
...No.
There we go then. Just be patient.
I am patient. I have sheer temperance under my belt.
That's what I hear.
What?
Ah, there's his car. Get everything ready inside.
Fine.
...
Jules! How are you?!
Hello sir, I can't complain, but-
-But no doubt Harry can, eh? Same old story then.
What about you, sir?
Apart from the hangover from hell, I'll survive.
Spirits?
High, same with the wife. Is everyone here?
Everyone from the list, as per your instructions.
Splendid. And their arrangements?
We couldn't do the room for the Darries, but then again you even said it may be above most craftsmen in the area. We had to substitute it for typewriter room...
Hm. Even though it's a fallback I'm still a little disappointed. We'll have to see how it goes.
And I'm afraid the museum wouldn't allow us usage of the "Brazen Bull". We had to get the iron maiden from the seller in Ottowa instead.
That's a shame. Add the curator to the next list.
Done. We did also manage to get a gibbet and some pilliwinks on the cheap from the same seller.
Pilliwinks?
Thumb screws.
Ah, splendid!
Thought you'd like them. The screws were free actually, on the promise of more purchases in the future.
As long as he gets a Bull at some point I'm more than happy to buy again. Any more substitutions.
No sir.
How are the animals?
The bull is fine. Perfectly docile. The hormones are on standby.
And the other animals?
They still scream and moan. One of them attacked one of the feeders with an iron bar last week.
Good god man.
Punished of course, as an example. No other problems really.
"Really?"
Well, we had to separate the males and females again. And even some of the males from the males. We filmed all the doings of course. Couple even managed it through the bars.
Filthy buggers.
Starting entertainment I thought. They're the opening act.
Good man. My choice to put you as my right hander wasn't misplaced. What's the catch?
Catch?
The icing on the cake. The "Raison d'etre".
Oh I see. Overdose of spanish fly.
Hm. Randy, but there's no "Zing".
Any suggestions?
Snuff it. Behead the female.
Are you sure? Girls of her assets are hard to come by. Considering your clause on "God's natural gifts".
Who is God, Jules?
You sir, a thousand times you!
Exactly. We can use the body again for a time. Make the male constantly on the fly.
And the replacement?
I have a touch of jungle fever.
Aye sir.
Shall we?
Certainly. After you, sir.
...
HONOURED GUESTS AND VILLAINS TO MY CAUSE!
Welcome to my palace of blood...
I, Sebastian St. Sade, Am, at least for tonight, your host, lord, and master.
You each know where you're going and why you are here - so let's not beat around the bush - plenty of time for that later...
Now, the opening act!
Friday 9 October 2009
Blood and Plastic.
That's all I could taste.
It only took an hour. But I still taste blood and plastic.
The blood is understandable, due to what happened.
But I didn't realise that anasthetic could leave such a bad taste in my mouth.
Not just my mouth, in my nose and throat as well.
Shit... did my nose bleed? I just pulled something black out of my left nostral. For fuck's sake.
The whole thing was bad enough, but now my nose is in it too?
Glad it's over though.
I never want to do this again. Thank god they're giving me that toothpaste to help.
I wish I could stand a simple needle. It's so small, and simple, but... I don't know.
Even under the nitrous... The gas that's meant to make you not care at all.
Wish life were that simple... but then I'd have a canister stuck in my mouth all the time.
Even under the gas, I managed to lift my dull limbs around my body.
Felt like a dying woodlouse... It's pathetic.
I wish they hadn't put that shit in the back of my hand.
That's the absolute worst part.
Seeing it there. Like an atrificial cancer, just sat halfway out of my body.
I cringe everytime I see it...
And taking it out is gonna suck too.
Hackh...
My spit... It's...
Hahaha...
It's pink.
Gas and mucus make the best combo... Evidently...
Won't get out of my mouth though...
Every silver lining has a cloud.
Think I just need a nap...
Ah! fuck! Is... Is one of my teeth sharp?
Jesus christ...
This day is a day that will live in infamy...
DENTISTS AND HOSPITALS SUCK.
It only took an hour. But I still taste blood and plastic.
The blood is understandable, due to what happened.
But I didn't realise that anasthetic could leave such a bad taste in my mouth.
Not just my mouth, in my nose and throat as well.
Shit... did my nose bleed? I just pulled something black out of my left nostral. For fuck's sake.
The whole thing was bad enough, but now my nose is in it too?
Glad it's over though.
I never want to do this again. Thank god they're giving me that toothpaste to help.
I wish I could stand a simple needle. It's so small, and simple, but... I don't know.
Even under the nitrous... The gas that's meant to make you not care at all.
Wish life were that simple... but then I'd have a canister stuck in my mouth all the time.
Even under the gas, I managed to lift my dull limbs around my body.
Felt like a dying woodlouse... It's pathetic.
I wish they hadn't put that shit in the back of my hand.
That's the absolute worst part.
Seeing it there. Like an atrificial cancer, just sat halfway out of my body.
I cringe everytime I see it...
And taking it out is gonna suck too.
Hackh...
My spit... It's...
Hahaha...
It's pink.
Gas and mucus make the best combo... Evidently...
Won't get out of my mouth though...
Every silver lining has a cloud.
Think I just need a nap...
Ah! fuck! Is... Is one of my teeth sharp?
Jesus christ...
This day is a day that will live in infamy...
DENTISTS AND HOSPITALS SUCK.
Tuesday 6 October 2009
Asshole Tactics.
This'll get 'im.
Teach him good.
He deserves this. Toneless music on through the night, that bitch of a wife berating me for no reason, and that damn dog.
The dog is the worst. Fucker has no sense of territory. Pisses in my kids' sandbox.
But this'll teach him.
How does a dog get out of a sand box full of "Quik-dry" cement? Not without breaking its legs.
And if that fails, there's always the beartraps. Just in case it's urine isn't potent enough to set the sand. Or if it rains.
Now the wife. Fat whore. Most likely how he got her too. All I ever see her do is drink, eat and yell. I pity the freak for putting up with her.
So she's gonna take a nice long trip. In a pine box.
Insulated of course - don't want her to freeze on the flight.
The arctic is cold enough.
And now him. My nemesis requires my "Magnum Opus".
Something so subtle, but yet also puts across how I feel - or some kind of trademark...
Gas?
Gas! The "Silent" killer.
Perfect!
Easy enough to get gas line plans...
Teach him good.
He deserves this. Toneless music on through the night, that bitch of a wife berating me for no reason, and that damn dog.
The dog is the worst. Fucker has no sense of territory. Pisses in my kids' sandbox.
But this'll teach him.
How does a dog get out of a sand box full of "Quik-dry" cement? Not without breaking its legs.
And if that fails, there's always the beartraps. Just in case it's urine isn't potent enough to set the sand. Or if it rains.
Now the wife. Fat whore. Most likely how he got her too. All I ever see her do is drink, eat and yell. I pity the freak for putting up with her.
So she's gonna take a nice long trip. In a pine box.
Insulated of course - don't want her to freeze on the flight.
The arctic is cold enough.
And now him. My nemesis requires my "Magnum Opus".
Something so subtle, but yet also puts across how I feel - or some kind of trademark...
Gas?
Gas! The "Silent" killer.
Perfect!
Easy enough to get gas line plans...
* * * * *
There, 3 lines opened into the house, I'm lucky he went out.
And now... The waiting game.
I'm not an anrgy man. I'll admit I easily find fault in most things, but... There was no excuse for what he did.
He was such a bad neighbour!
Car parts, dog turds, cigarette butts - all waste of the blue collar man! He needs to be cleaned up!
...Cigarette butts?
*BOOM*
Oh yeah... He's a smoker.
...
Looks like it's time to move again...
Monday 5 October 2009
An Ode to Apathy.
You ever been in one of those situations that you just don't want to deal with, yet at the same time want to and need to?
I hate the dentist. With a passion - it's the feeling of being defenceless as they stick their finger around inside you. That's bad enough - but if you have a needle phobia, its like a death sentence when they say you need a filling. There's no chance of doing it without the jab because of the INTENSE FUCKING PAIN. And, personally, if they try to get anywhere near me with a needle i lock up like a woodlouse, all up in a ball.
What about the gas? Didn't work. Test worked fine - I felt all light and airy - a good feeling all in all. It's a different story when you're nervous as hell, to the point of having taken beta blockers to help with the "Holy crap I'm gonna be sick" feeling. When the gas was on I felt dead. All of my limbs were heavy - and rather than a white light, I saw a black mass in front of my eyes. As soon as that fucker said "Now were gonna have a try" - My muscles acted on instinct. Woodlouse.
So now what? Now I'm having to go in and take the little pill and hard gas. I'm not scared of that. I just want them to put the drip in my hand after I'm out - not halfway there.
I'll sue if they do.
Sunday 4 October 2009
Chainsaws are not the only fruit.
People frowned upon our love...
I don't care about them... I care about you.
Your smooth body, your colour, your voice, and your sharp tongue...
That's what I care about.
When we make love, my body is on fire.
You cut me down to size.
You make me feel things I didn't even know existed...
And when we're apart, I'm weak. I feel naked without you.
I need to be with you forever, as long as we both shall live.
Will you marry me?
...
Who cares that we're different - do you love me?
...
Then what's stopping us?
...
We can elope. Take what we have and live together - the place doesn't matter as long as we have each other.
So what do you say?
...
...Thank you. You've made me the happiest man in the world!
You hear that, world?! I LOVE MY CHAINSAW!
*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZKT*
Saturday 3 October 2009
Friday 2 October 2009
A Fine Line.
George... I'm leaving now.
Gladys... Why?
Because you never leave the garage. You've been in here for about 4 weeks now... I can't take it anymore.
I've been building! And I've just finished!
Finished what?
My "Magnum Opus"!
I don't like ice cream...
No - my master work!
Master work? What's that then?!
Come in and I'll show you.
...What is that, George?!
It's a massage machine!
People have those already.. And they don't look like an asian hooker!
Well... She IS an asian hooker. Partially.
Partially?
I killed a hooker, Gladys. I didn't sleep with her if that's any comfort.
...Not really.
I made her again to massage me - the way only men can enjoy.
Oh god! A happy ending?!
Gladys, please! There are ladies present!
I'm going now George...
Wait! Let her touch you! LET HER TOUCH YOU!
Gladys... Why?
Because you never leave the garage. You've been in here for about 4 weeks now... I can't take it anymore.
I've been building! And I've just finished!
Finished what?
My "Magnum Opus"!
I don't like ice cream...
No - my master work!
Master work? What's that then?!
Come in and I'll show you.
...What is that, George?!
It's a massage machine!
People have those already.. And they don't look like an asian hooker!
Well... She IS an asian hooker. Partially.
Partially?
I killed a hooker, Gladys. I didn't sleep with her if that's any comfort.
...Not really.
I made her again to massage me - the way only men can enjoy.
Oh god! A happy ending?!
Gladys, please! There are ladies present!
I'm going now George...
Wait! Let her touch you! LET HER TOUCH YOU!
Jerry likes Tang.
I like Tang.
IT'S 3AM JERRY - WHY DO I NEED TO KNOW RIGHT NOW?!
I thought you'd be interested is all. Ain't no "Tang".
...You thought of that ages ago, didn't you?
A fair while back, yes. Why do you ask?
Do you know what sound a pillow makes when it's held against someones face?
Uh... No?
Nothing at all...
[And then Jerry died.]
[2 weeks later.]
Alan...
W-Who's there?!
Aaaaaaaaalan...
J...Jerry?!
You killed me, Aaalan... Now you're going to paaaaaaaaaaaay...
What are you going to do?!
That's a surprise, Alan...
PLEASE! HAVE MERCY!
Look behind you Alan...
YIIIAAAAAAAH!
...
...
I Still like Tang.
IT'S 3AM JERRY - WHY DO I NEED TO KNOW RIGHT NOW?!
I thought you'd be interested is all. Ain't no "Tang".
...You thought of that ages ago, didn't you?
A fair while back, yes. Why do you ask?
Do you know what sound a pillow makes when it's held against someones face?
Uh... No?
Nothing at all...
[And then Jerry died.]
[2 weeks later.]
Alan...
W-Who's there?!
Aaaaaaaaalan...
J...Jerry?!
You killed me, Aaalan... Now you're going to paaaaaaaaaaaay...
What are you going to do?!
That's a surprise, Alan...
PLEASE! HAVE MERCY!
Look behind you Alan...
YIIIAAAAAAAH!
...
...
I Still like Tang.
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