Literature's Next Frontier


Flamingo

POETRY:

Nevermind the Lingo

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

Take a minute to reflect
on the events of the last year
it was all too clear
right out the game
you were about
to celebrate it

But your joy
was false it knew
no bounds they realized it
and they've called
it something new

Hey better get along or
else you'll find yourself
down the roller coaster
Hurting the dreams
that Larry had
about their eggs

But your joyless Falls
Can never have you
you're clinging to a
yKlingons cross
Turn it over wash it out
Smile in the dark

Never mind the lingo
Reminds you of nothing



Posted on: December 20 2014

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NON-FICTION:

Humans and Sadists

by huh? Quill-red

Humans and Sadists

 

A sadist needs to be around people who have flaws he can condemn. He wants to see what is wrong with people. He may get away with it for most of a lifetime because many people can’t identify sadism and because there are willing victims. A sadist can see himself as a helper, even a crusader. If he can diagnose people’s weaknesses well, or if he can theorize well in speech or writing he will “get people to see what he is talking about” and he may be respected for his insights. He may be fine saying that beneath the shameful corruptions he sees people are beautiful.

It’s true that people have flaws… but many of the “fallen” still channel the energy of their spirit regularly.

The sadist is uncomfortable around pure output: there is no ugliness he can point to… spontaneous play not only gives him nothing of the person to criticize, it gives him nothing of them to analyze and categorize. They aren’t saying “who they are” or “what they believe”. They’re not saying “this is what I’m good at, these are my strengths, these are my weaknesses, here is my dark side, this is what I like, this is what I dislike, here is my background, I’m this type of guy.” This is not ok: if someone won’t define themselves, and if what they are doing is too free then the sadist has a problem.

It’s ok if a person doesn’t reveal their sore spot: a sadist can still reinforce that person’s programming with lifeless “pleasant conversation”. But if the target is actively creating and won’t adjust to meet the sadist on his level then the sadist is afraid.

A sadist can give a marvelous description of a flaw. He can say how damaging the flaw is and how much better life would be without it… but this is only a hypothesis… in truth he is afraid of a person who is actually happy: a person living in the state beyond the fight against pain. The sadist’s coursework never goes past the death of weakness. It never spells out a purpose one can have except the fight against evil. If he dared to try imagining a life beyond the fight he’d come up with very little. He might throw the blame to the world and remind himself that one who becomes pure is still living a restricted life in a corrupt society but the fact is he can’t imagine living a good life without perpetual angst  –  and when he sees it being done he is uneasy. He wants that person to come down, feel some shame, get himself arrested perhaps, analyze or criticize or define himself somehow… anything but never stop moving. THOU SHALL SAY “THIS IS HOW I DO” BEFORE AND AFTER ALL THINE DOINGS.

And if a sadist meets a person who is without the fear he lives by he won’t feel joy; he will feel terror more intense than what he would feel if he were trapped on a sinking ship.

 

Healing happens sometimes when I win a battle, but really it happens when I am engrossed enough in what I am doing that I forget to be a sadist to myself: I stop reminding myself of my problems, my worries, my pictures of what I will do… and I exist and am conscious without remembering my past or fantasizing my future or wishing I was better than I am now. Likewise with friendship: let’s stop trying to diagnose each other’s hangups and start discovering what we lost when we all got hung up.

Health is very close. Making it default in the face of fear and programming is probably not easy. Maybe it requires nothing more than being free enough to forget often… but I doubt it. When I break through, the reality of the collective world is altered only somewhat. Doors open in my personal life but the world stage is still there. I can’t exist as if things that are real don’t affect me. A taboo cannot be a prescription for health. A taboo is a lie. Lying to another may or may not be evil: it depends on the circumstance and the motive. Lying to oneself is like drinking poison. Human action is too complex to ever grasp entirely, even when you fundamentally trust your methods of introspection and your memories… but decide to lie to yourself on a whim and you’re on the brink of infinite suffering. One second you’re fine… then: “Oh my God, I remember some of the first ones, but after that I might not have kept strict record. I was trying to feel better. Did I change something and forget that I changed it? Did I “fix” something and tell myself not to remember the fix… or the way it was before?!”

You can get to hell from any point in the universe in 3 seconds flat by lying to yourself.

 

I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY. TO BE HAPPY YOU MUST WALK A PATH OF YOUR OWN. IF YOUR VISION OF YOUR FUTURE MUST BE “NORMAL” BEFORE IT MUST BE INSPIRING, OR IF YOU ARE GIVING SOMEONE ELSE ANY AMOUNT OF AUTHORITY OVER YOUR PATH YOU ARE THROWING AWAY YOUR SOUL.

YOU CAN CHOOSE BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG. YOU CANNOT CHOOSE WRONG BUT DECIDE YOU’LL RETAIN THE MIND, BODY AND SPIRIT OF A MAN WHO IS DEFINED BY HIS WILL.

A BOY DECIDED ONCE TO GIVE IN TO HIS FEAR OF THE FOOLISH JUDGEMENT OF OTHERS. HE MADE A WRONG CHOICE KNOWING IT WAS WRONG. HE TOLD A LIE TO HIMSELF THAT NO ONE ELSE COULD HAVE BELIEVED TO MAKE HIS ACTION APPEAR TO BE DIFFERENT THAN IT ACTUALLY WAS. NOT A SOUL COULDN’T SEE WHAT WAS REALLY THERE, AND HE DIDN’T ACTUALLY FOOL HIMSELF.

HE WISHED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING THAT HE COULD FACE THE DECISION UNMOLESTED BY FEAR. HE WISHED HE COULD FACE THE CHOICE WHERE THE OTHER BOYS COULDN’T SEE. HE WISHED POINTLESSLY FOR PLEASANTRIES OF CIRCUMSTANCE THAT WEREN’T THERE AND FAILED THE CHALLENGE KNOWING CONSCIOUSLY THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTION.

The boy was me in 3rd grade. I can change nothing. I regret nothing. I am what I am. I am the man who made the wrong choice. I know the fear  –  and I know the lack of self-esteem, maybe the lack of awakeness, that let it become so monstrous.

The fear was very powerful. What I did when I obeyed it was bizarre in its strategic worthlessness. I lied to myself and anyone viewing… but no one watching would have been duped… if any of the scary boys were even paying attention. I knew the nature and significance of the choice and the consequences of each action. If I did right in spite of the fear I would suffer a very brief escalation between my choice and my action, then the fear would die off and be replaced by confidence and elation.

The boy who gave in gave away a piece of himself and institutionalized the fear.

Why did I do it?

  1. I’m a coward
  2. Sometime, before the choice, I was taught that it is better to be weak than to be strong. Why? Out of respect for the weak? Who will they look up to?
  3. Despite all my awareness, some inner weakness allowed me to try to get away with giving in yet not suffering the consequences

Maybe I was weak in a way where I wagered that the consequences of my lie couldn’t be as real as my body. Like I didn’t know that life is not a game. Like “no way“ the event was totally real in its invisible significance. Moments are your playtoys, not your master.

How would I have got like this?

Because my parents never disciplined me?

No. Because I was only ever disciplined by my parents and school teachers: never by nature.

I was not a teacher’s pet: I was in trouble all the time at school and I was typically disobedient at home too.

But when I was “breaking rules” I wasn’t acting evil… usually. Usually I was just doing what I wanted to do despite an adult’s orders to do otherwise. One reason is that I wanted to. Another reason, which is something I still believe, and which I believe already in my earliest memories, is that when a person of authority tells you what to do they typically do not have a good reason for their order. Sometimes they do… it’s not as rare as a four leaf clover… but the standard is that they don’t. They may have a sensible line, such as, “you have to come in now because recess is over and all the other children are coming in and class will resume and the teacher can’t waste the whole class’s time reteaching something you missed.” Logical… well explained… but it’s merely a detail within a framework where adults are telling you what to do…

So question that framework: “why do I have to go to school?”

“The education is valuable to you, and since you do not know what all you need to learn you are unequipped to order your own education. Also, the teacher is there to answer questions. Also you have to: by law.”

Excepting that last thing, that is a rational explanation that actually gives me a reason to attend school. And then… no successful persuasion that a course I am forced to take is beneficial to me will leave me ok with the force thing. Force is real. Force keeps people in prisons; it keeps children in schools and in their homes regardless of their will. (Until the same government that prevented them from leaving home on their own will forces them to leave with or without their consent.)

So I’m in a life where authority figures are usually telling me what to do. Sometimes they are telling me what is best for me… but that’s uncommon… and when you learn to dissect an order upon hearing it you see that behind a sensible sounding reason there is just another unjustified order… and where there’s an order you can almost assume without checking that there is, behind that order, the threat that you will be physically forced if you try to refuse. And since you cannot actually force someone to do anything much beyond have their body in a certain place… since you have to use intimidation to make someone do almost anything… those who disobey are punished.

Punishment comes in various forms. The method to break a rebel which is institutionalized in our society is confine and deprive. Some Native American Tribes practiced torture and mutilation of their enemies and sometimes extended this practice to whites: not just to grown soldiers captured in the heat of battle, but also to innocent white children they captured from settlements. Torture was not always a prelude to death. Sometimes it went on, and on, and on, for years. Whites were rightly appalled. But in the opinions recorded, in the records left by the last generations of these people as they were, you find the same loathing, the same moral contempt, the scorn and near disbelief at the savage, inhuman practice that whites had of taking those deemed wrong by society and putting them in a cage for long periods of time with nothing to do.

And I was trying to tell how maybe my life had created a boy who couldn’t quite buy the unbending ruthlessness of inevitable consequence. Of course the guilt is mine regardless. So 99% of the time someone is telling me to do something there is a threat of physical coercion to back up the order. Which means that if you rebel they’ll threaten you with consequences (things they will do to you if you don’t obey, not cause-and-effect) and if you hold out beyond all threats some parents still practice the old ways but in my life punishment meant losing “privileges” (which were anything I did that I enjoyed) or sitting in “time-out” (which meant I sat in a certain chair facing the wall and didn’t say or do anything). Like a retarded dog that can’t stop trying to chomp the cookie, I’d asked, “Can I get up now?” compulsively even though my parents assured me it only got me more time. Then one time-out I decided to use my brain – I sat silent… and those fuckers left me sitting there for half a day. They were bustling around doing this and that in the same room as me nearly the whole time. I call it. I moisten my lips, “Can I get up now?” And mom was like “Oh. Whoa. Yes you may get up now; Jesus Christ it’s been hours.”

Nature is different. “Nature to be commanded must be obeyed.” Authority also “must be obeyed” but there is no bright side, there is no reward to obeying authority. Sometimes your orders are good and sometimes they are tolerable and sometimes they are torture. And authority insists you obey regardless.

A 22⁰ night in the wilderness with improper gear and an exhausted body is dangerous, and you can take whatever action you can come up with to increase your warmth and survive the night. Whatever you can think of: nature will never reach out and give your wrist a menacing little slap and say “nope… not that way… you believe that that action will help you save yourself… and it is ok that you believe that…but you may not try it.” “Why?” “Because I say so and I’m the boss.” Nature is the boss, but nature doesn’t grant you favor or malice. It’s a necessity for a man to test himself in all sorts of ways, and dealing with the world as it is, which means dealing with people as they are, is not off my list. But I like nature better: the only fear that is valid there is the fear of injurious damage to your body. It’s rational, it isn’t mental illness and it doesn’t come to mind until there is a reason for it too.

Like… if the pack of coyotes you heard far away seems to be coming closer.

Like… a sharp pain on your ankle and you see a certain snake slithering away and you realize you will be more paralyzed than functional within 1½ minutes.

Or what if that snake bit and just after you became sure that that pack of coyotes is interested in you? That would be really bad! You’d almost think there was a conspiracy going on among the animals. But not the way you’d know there was a conspiracy when you crossed an authority figure in society. Then you’d know that nomatter what you were not up against any one man or any group of men but against millions who – despite endless infighting – are resolute in their vow to hold power, and to punish those who dare stand up to their authority: they are less perturbed if their reasons for the specific orders they give are challenged, or if their fairness in uniform enforcement is doubted – but challenge their right to control you and you will be hurt, caged, deprived of money and property which you didn’t steal and which they are taking for themselves without even pretending there is an injured party, aka a victim of your wrongdoing.

And it would still be wrong, but so much less evil, if, whenever you are given an order, you could ask “why” and receive an answer. But that is not something you can expect: try to train all the righteousness out of your voice: you can’t: the question itself is too righteous. You are asking the question assuming that the control-freaks are focused on their agenda: creating Framework A for the school children and modifying Framework B for the business owner. The specific plans are how they waste their hours and the hours of their victims whom they legislate to death. But the motive is control, and more control, and the truth is that most controllers do not have good reasons for the orders they give. The main reason is that they like the power. The more they diminish you the more power they seem to have, so giving a reason doesn’t feel right. They are sadists who want to be as high above you as they can be. And so… “You don’t need to know the reason; what you need to do is what I tell you to do.”

I’m not perfectly in control of my emotions… but I am light-years away from “admitting” that all my anger, my hate, and the growing self-identification that I am at war… I am not going to “admit” that I’m really just mentally ill and dealing with some issues.

There is evil that can be done to you, even if you live without fear of the foolish judgments of others, and I don’t mean by a lone rouge criminal but by the judicial system and the police and the mental health system (a branch of the prison system) and by any worthless snoop who reports your nonviolent activities to the proper authorities.

You do not have to do anything violent to be declared insane. Ben “found himself” and then found himself locked up for it… not because he was violent or accused of violence but because he refused to properly answer questions from police, then judges, then psychiatric evaluators: “What is your name?” “What year do you think this is?” “What year were you born?” He goofed off, he acted himself into the role of “insane”, and the focused concern of the evaluators was flat out bizarre to him because he’d chosen to live without the poison and he transcended so well that he couldn’t quite remember how the sadists functioned. It was awfully silly to him that seemingly fit and properly formed men would wake up at 5am, shave, dress, caffeinate, and, after practicing such discipline, would find their way to a barren room where they sat sober, grave, and attentive to his every word, when he was never a threat to them and didn’t even ever appear to be.

Ben was mistaken… and this is why I don’t just drop my identity as a warrior against evil and be happy to the point where I incessantly forget knowledge of the world I’ve lived in. Ben abandoned the fear of other’s foolish judgment totally, and he didn’t want to corrupt his new holiness with what seemed like old evil, but he forgot that the fear of shame and the fear of physical harm are not the same thing, and he IS a threat to a political structure that is based on authority and the psychic structure beneath it that is based on fear. He felt free; he was truly happy for four days there. And now some guy with a piece of paper is telling him that he will be up for reevaluation in 6 months and that that time must be spent in bla bla State mental institution.

Very sad; very real.

I’ve often heard the question “Is it moral to use violence in self-defense?”

Less often have I heard the parallel question “Is it moral to lie in self-defense?”

My answer: the good people in this world need to know that it is only the evil within themselves that they must refute. It is not then that you are supposed to “be yourself” in front of the nearest Nazi.

It’s no hypothetical question. You are going to need to lie in many of the same situations in which you needed to lie before. You never had to lie to yourself; but when you lied to others wasn’t real self-protection sometimes involved?

In order to justify lying, do you need to know – when dealing with a certain person in a certain situation – that there is a risk of physical damage to your body and not just an emotional push towards shame? No. It’s always better to understand the situation, but no. The person who “only” wants to cripple you psychically is evil as shit for it and your new mission as a healthy being is to deal with such people in the way that is best for you.

You are not supposed to listen to sadists’ attempts and you are not supposed to ‘hide nothing’ from them. A person doing so is either still drawn towards the abusive energy connections of Sadists or he is trying to prove to himself that God loves him now and He will save him even when he throws himself at the mercy of danger he is finally equipped to avoid. This is not a good idea. God didn’t give you a brain so that you could not use it.

Now clear your mind of Sadist stuff… mostly. You need to let go… as much as possible.

Or ignore this sourpuss: run down the street with your shirt off declaring world peace, knowing without a doubt that every person who hears you is your guardian and feels what you feel.

They are sharing your joy: in the deep uncorrupted regions of their souls they truly are… but on the surface the sadists are calling the cops. When you heal your mind you open up parts of existence that were not yours to enter before, but you don’t completely transcend evil society in this life.

So, how to handle sadists? Now that you are not adding confusion and complexity to an already complex world, sadists are simply an element of nature. When you’re not in default membership in the net of fear sadists are people of harmful intention and it’s not a big metaphysical confusion anymore.

You will want to relate to people around you as if they are not evil parasites, and this is not impossible sometimes. But you should keep your protection, out of love for yourself, every time. Never throw it away for a whisper of a chance of love and understanding. Someone who looks inches away from a breakthrough IS inches away from it. So were you… for how many years? I do not feel inspiring warning away like this but ‘a feeling of loss’ is nothing compared to a jail sentence or a taste of involuntary mental-health treatment.

 

So… my mother was very protective of me in my childhood. I probably never experienced a survival challenge. The only “you shoulds” I ever heard came from authority figures, and I had diagnosed them and condemned them, and I knew the only reason “I should” do something that I was disinclined to do was to avoid their punishment. Then I was 9 and I was influenced very strongly by the invisible pressure to conform, and Fear patrolled the line between appeasement and selfhood.

The choice I failed was the first significant moral choice I ever made. Moral choices are right or wrong by human nature and are comprehensible and solid in a way that choices one makes when dealing with authority figures never are. Again, it was all my choice and it’s all my fault, but I don’t understand why I wasn’t up to doing right, and it’s possible that a little life experience with the fact of my mortality would have helped: not “breath in your fears Bruce” nightmare-busting war-games or anything so marvelous…  but maybe a day of my life spent alone in the woods with nobody knowing where I was, so, if some sound frightened me, I’d realize that if it was a threat I would have to face it by myself.

 

And what is it that sadists do not want you to do? Face things yourself. Because if you can face things yourself you don’t need other people for survival you want them for pleasure. Humans want to be wanted but not needed; sadists want to be needed but not wanted.

When humans rule you get freedom. Why? Because you can handle it.

When sadists rule you get mandates. Why? Because you need them. You’re not worthy.

 

Today in America

You need to send your children to certain schools to learn certain things. You’re incompetent to decide what they need to learn or how to teach them. P.S. Your kids are likewise incompetent to choose the direction of their education until they are 18.

You need certain treatment/medicine for your illnesses. Only what we allow: you might hurt your dumb self otherwise. We are competent to do the research and make the judgments; you are not. P.S. You need health insurance. You may not want to pay for it but if you got badly sick or injured you would lose more money on medical bills. You’re not competent to wager on the odds as you see them.

You may not do drugs for pleasure. You may do certain drugs (with special permission) if and only if you need them for alleviation of a malaise.

You must build your dwelling according to our building codes. If we let you just build what you wanted shit might not work or the house might fall down.

 

The individual is being protected from reality. Of course he might hurt his dumb self without the safety nets, but what horrifies me is the emaciated, scarless, disconnected products of the mentality that worships safety over wisdom. One who has obeyed instructions – instructions which he did not discover or choose – instead of learning by success and error is not a human but merely a masochist. A human is conditioned to live on earth; a masochist can only operate within the sadist’s framework.

Humans don’t tell other humans how to live. I’m at odds with the morals of the voting public for, above all else, the sentencing or fining of people who have, by any proper evaluation, committed no crime. A “crime” requires an injured party.

Who is the injured party when you educate your children how you see fit? Your children might be.

Who is the injured party when you choose an unpermitted medical treatment? You might be.

Who is the injured party when you get high? You or others might be.

Who is the injured party when you build your own house? You, your family, and/or any guests might be.

Who is the injured party when Ben sings Yankee Doodle when asked what year he was born? The people he may do harm to in the future? So, no one yet, but there’s a victim hypothetically possibly? Sadists do not fear physical harm to their bodies; they fear independent humans who refuse the fear-shame energy connection. It took 9/11 to get America to swallow “preventative war” against Iraq but all it takes to declare preventative war against Ben is the fear that he won’t stop goofing off, and won’t feel stupid or sinful doing what is only harmless play.

Ben could have done better for himself without coming down from cloud 9. He ought to have put on his ‘normal fellow’ mask instead of his clown mask. It’s only a mask.

My friend John also fell head-over-heals-in-love with what he was doing and fought the monster head-on when he should have camouflaged today and lived free tomorrow.

John bought 40 acres of land in a very rural area. He camped out, living out of a big tent with a shanty carport next to it. His plan was to live out of this setup while working on the real structure. But the state or county code inspectors somehow got wind that some antisocial renegade was living on his own property and doing things without asking first.

 

In the first half of America’s history, a building-code inspector showing up at the site of the construction of a rural, private dwelling would be unheard of. And the greeting he received would not be from a meek, obedient victim; it wouldn’t even be from a man who had any interest in compromise. Semblance of such virtue is still found in the more “backwards” counties of this nation. Back in the day, a bureaucrat who showed up on private property would be greeted the moment he was seen and asked his business. If there was a party who had to work his way past some fear at this point it was the better dressed one.

Imagine if the inspector told the homesteader that a new law had been passed and that all new residences in the state had to meet a certain checklist of criteria and that residences under construction are to be exempted unless it is the observation of the visiting inspector that “progress on the dwelling had not at the time of initial inspection progressed to an extent or in a way that modification to conform to new standards would place undue hardship on the prospective residents”. And the inspector tells the man that it is his estimation that the work done so far is such that modification would not be much of a burden at all…

The builder will have seen that this man has bathed recently and that he has a thin gold chain dangling from his front pocket where a gold pocket watch presumably resides… and he will realize that this man is on a government salary.

There are many possible futures here, but I like the one where the inspector gets shot without a further word.

 

The property boundary is not a perimeter within which an owner can do absolutely anything: if he acts within and his action harms someone else then there is an injured party. But who is the injured party if a rule is broken but no human is injured?! Look at the heading on the case of a building code violation: The State of California vs. Guy Who Builds His Own Way. It’s a sham. Sadist control-freaks want Guy’s money and don’t want him to succeed unless he’s indebted to their directive control.

 

John, who is on his own 40 acres of land which he bought 2 weeks ago, is working on excavating and grading to prepare the land for the foundation of a small house. He bought the land fair and square with the majority of his savings plus that much again in borrowed money. The loan is through an associate, not a bank; the interest is steep, but the monthly payments are low. He had $2000 savings left when the land became his.

Excavating with a shovel and a hoe would have worked if the soil stayed soft, but when it became rocky 6” down he realized it wasn’t going to happen here with hand tools… he’d have to rent a miniature bulldozer, skid-steer loader… whatever was right… he’d never done these things before… he’d ask questions at the hardware store. He’d probably get a funny look there: “I’m going to dig for a foundation for my new house. What tool should I use?”… ya… probably he’d say “a shed next to my house”

Then he realizes that the tiny heavy equipment he’d be looking at renting would not handle what was probably damn near solid rock another 6” down.

The next day at 1:00pm John is driving a minidozer moving dirt around in a different location. The plans he had for the 1st spot are out, and the new plans for a new spot which he drew out last night are in. He staked out the spot, and then he was off to town to rent a machine he knew nothing about except that it’s used for grading. The spot he picked is somewhat of a flat, low spot; it’s not like it’s a crevice he’s going to build in, but as he uses his toy he sees that in a heavy rain there will be a lot of water coming down that slope, and it will largely end up here and if it rains hard and the ground gets saturated this spot could be a puddle. He decides that he’s doing a task and he will worry about the next one next. Then he forces himself to stop, turn off the machine, sit still and think through a solution to the drainage problem so as to be sure he doesn’t need to modify the shape or location of the foundation. He is sure right away. But he focuses, relaxes, mentally reviews the solution… and is still sure. He starts the minidozer and resumes…

Now it is obvious that John is severely mentally ill. The California State Building Code Inspectors are going to pay John a visit and stop this madness. There is more than a little something wrong with a man who just “goes out and builds a house” – as if the building professions are trying to keep him down. He has no experience in construction of any kind. His “house” is going to have no electricity. What’s he going to use for lighting at night?

“He says ‘a cliplight’ which is this thing you use to read a book. You clip it on and the neck swivels so you can point the light at the page. He said ‘that was for starters’”

“Except that he has no house yet.”

“Right. And I wanted to talk to him some more and he said he didn’t want to talk to me, got kind of emotional, walked off and sat by himself; and then he walked back. Karen was there taking photos. He comes up to me and says, “Could I talk to you in private for a minute?” And I look at Karen and she just shrugs and I say “ok” and we walk off a few paces and I say “Stop. What do you want to talk to me about?” And I hadn’t actually looked at his eyes until right then and he looked… just… off.”

“Ready to wring your neck?”

“At least. He never really looks at me. He says, “I’ll give you $700 if you let this go”

“Whoa”

“I said, ‘you just committed a felony, and whether or not I want to report you I have to because I get to lose my job if I don’t.’”

“Yep.”

“So I call up the sheriff and I tell him what happened and he shows up and arrests him.”

“How’d you end up there in the first place?”

“CHP chopper called it in. He didn’t know if it was a problem or not but he thought maybe the guy was prospecting on someone else’s property. So we cruise up there and we finally find dude and I scream at him until he hears me, and he looks up like “oh… people” and I make a motion for him to turn off the machine. And I ask him, “Are you the owner of this property?” He says, “Yes.” I ask, “Do you have a building permit?” He takes about 3 seconds… “No.” “Do you have a perc and mantle?” “No.” “Do you have anything?” He says “I have a title.”

“ha ha ha ha”

“I say ‘ok, there’s a problem here’. And as I’m going over it with him I look at the landscape where he was digging and basically all the water that comes down this whole hillside ends up right there, so rain and snowmelt would have done him in there anyway.”

John got a one year prison sentence. His land went to his creditor, who sold it. He lost all his possessions to weather and looters. As he slept, the hardware store prepared paperwork for a $20,000 suit against him for their lost machine. He had no meaningful conversation with anyone for a year. He was raped only once and he contracted HIV. He never had sex again, except once with a whore when he was near blackout drunk.

Anyone who thinks John deserves it because he ignored the rules and tried to bribe a government agent deserves death.

Notice how John and Ben committed the same crime? They fell in love with what they were doing. That is what healing is… and the injured party is every miserable sadist who needed company.

 

“Blame the other” thinking gets us to: “John and Ben were victims of sadists. Sadists are bad and we should hate them.” Nobody alive has never been abused, and nobody who’s been abused fails to seethe over their grievances… but what separates the men from the boys (and the humans from the sadists) is how fast and how honestly one gets off analyzing others’ injustices and onto diagnosing self’s vulnerability… and then onto modifying self to be less vulnerable… and then off war-thought and back to living the good life, only with better protective-mechanisms in place for the next round. It’s all just evolution.

John and Ben were also victims of themselves. Naivety was a major weakness for both of them: spiritually/socially they were virgins: the cloud 9 exaltation they possess when they’re introduced herein is in contrast to lives they lived like shadows. Then they broke through momentarily, and they acted like they were invincible, when in fact they were merely healthy. In a terribly significant way they were still sadists themselves. Ben needed other people to see that he wasn’t afraid of them; he was showing off how he couldn’t be made to bow. He needed attention. John knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that offering that man $700 was a poor tactic if he wanted to keep his land and his freedom. What made him try the bribe? $700 was ALL he had. He was passionate about his project like he’d never been about anything, and he felt that by offering everything he would display that passion to the other man who would sympathize. The desire for recognition is very close to the desire for brotherhood… and John wanted to be seen as he was just as badly as he wanted to build his house. John and Ben needed love and respect. They sought it from those least likely to give it because they didn’t truly love and respect themselves. They drew their antagonists into their private realities. They were playing the sadists’ game the whole time; they were addicted to the conflict. They knew no other existence. They refused to wear their masks precisely when they would have gained by wearing them.

People become sadists when they dwell in victimhood. People become humans when they see themselves. Humans blame themselves. “Don’t get mad; get even.” Getting even doesn’t mean doing harm equivalent to the harm that was done to you. It means getting back what was taken from you: serenity, confidence, joy, wealth, power.

“Power” to a sadist means “power over other people.”

To a human it means “power over oneself; and the power to keep others from having power over oneself”

 

I’ve been a sadist in this life. I’m not an outside observer. I lived it to know it. I’ve been a human too. I talk more here about what sadists do than about what humans do, and that hints that I’m still too involved, but I lived it to know it to write it down, so of course I had to be close to it. People don’t need an explanation of how to be human. Humans find it. Also, this is an essay intended for distribution, so narcs could read it. Besides my friends who share my adventures, other people don’t need to know what I do.

 

By Wesley Leonard   ©2014

 


Posted on: December 19 2014

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POETRY:

A Ride

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 17 2014

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POETRY:

Reunited

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 17 2014

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POETRY:

Friend

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 17 2014

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POETRY:

Hallway

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 17 2014

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NON-FICTION:

Burning Lady

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 17 2014

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POETRY:

The Shovel

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

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Posted on: December 16 2014

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POETRY:

Was I Born....

by Anthony Perkins Quill-red

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm


Posted on: December 16 2014

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FICTION:

The Night a Mountain Fell.

by judylady2000 Quill-red

 


It’s a warm summer night near the Madison River. The canyon you’re in was a bright green, the indigenous trees swaying softly in the slight breeze. The Madison River was a bright blue, with the occasional Rainbow Trout jumping out and catching a fly in its mouth. You’re currently sleeping in an undersized tent in Rock Creek Campground with thirty or so other campers. It was August 17, 1959. It was nearing September faster than some had anticipated, and being that Montana tended to be a hot spot for vacationers, they didn’t want to be here when the snow started to fall, because when the snow starts to fall, it doesn’t seem to stop until April or May. So, all of the vacationers wanted to get in one more camping trip, fishing trip, or hunting trip before it got too cold or started to snow. (Well, everyone except the locals. They were use to the snow.)

After enjoying a warm meal of trout you caught a few hours earlier, you decided it was time to turn in for the night. Around you, you hear the other campers laughing and conversing. You silently wish that you had brought a friend along. Although you enjoy being out in nature by yourself, it was nice to have a friend with you sometimes. After a few seconds of hearing everyone, you decided that it really was time to go to bed. You go to your campsite and crawl in, falling asleep almost instantly.

Around 11:37 P.M. sudden loud noises wake you up from your deep sleep. Groggily, you look around, trying to gain your bearings. It takes you a second to remember that you’re in a tent camping. In your defense, though, it was hard to figure out where you were due to the darkness… oh, and the constant movement of the ground, which in turn made your tent more mobile than it was supposed to be. Suddenly, it hits you. You’re in an earthquake! Having never been in one, you attempt to stand and get out but the tent (and ground) is thrashing so wildly you can’t.

You don’t know this yet, but the earthquake will trigger a landslide. You don’t know this yet, but the landslide will dam the Madison river. You don’t know this yet, but the landslide kills twenty-eight people. You don’t know this yet, but you’ll be one of the twenty-eight.

Suddenly, the ground stops shaking. Slowly, you stand up, stumbling a bit because your legs feel like jelly. After you think you’re safe, you hear a growl-like sound coming from… well, everywhere. Thunder? You instantly think, but shake your head. You had checked the weather before you left, and it had said that it was only supposed to be warm, not getting over eighty degrees. Abruptly, the ground starts to rumble again and you instantly think: the quake isn’t over?!

Thinking fast, you jump out of the tent before the ground traps you in it again. Looking around, you see that some of the beautiful forestry had been uprooted. It was messy! The river looked like it could possibly heave out a tsunami. Being that it was nearly pitch black out, you couldn’t have noticed the enormous scarps around the campground. You look around, thinking that being under a tree would be the safest. (Remember, you’ve never been in an earthquake, so you don’t really know what to do.) You run towards one, a Ponderosa pine, (the state tree, you randomly remember) but see something out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you turn towards it and freeze. All you see is a wall of black before it enfulges you, killing you almost instantly. The dark enters your nose, ears, and any other openings in your body before it snaps your neck from the weight of it. A second before the sickening crack of your neck, you find out that the dark isn’t just dark. It was earth.

The earthquake itself was up to a magnitude of 7.5 on the Richter Scale. After the earthquake hit, there were aftershocks up to a magnitude of 6.5. The landslide you’re currently buried under was the most devastating result of the earthquake. The landslide was also half of a mountain. Due to the landslide, it dammed the river and made what is now known today as Quake Lake. Quake lake is one hundred and ninety feet deep and six miles long. The earthquake hit at 11:37 P.M.; you died at 11:39 P.M.

This is dedicated to all who died or had loved ones die due to the devastating earthquake that hit on August 17, 1959 at 11:37 P.M. near the Madison River in Montana.


Resources

No specific author. UUSS. N/A. N/A. University of Utah Seismograph Stations. 11 November 2014. <http://www.seis.utah.edu/lqthreat/nehrp_htm/1959hebg/c1959he1.sthml>


No specific author. Wikipedia. 11 September 2014. N/A. Wikipedia 11 November 2014. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quake_Lake>

 

 

 

 

***We had to write a worst-case scenario for English class. It didn't have to be based on something true, but since I'm from that part of Montana, I decided it'd be a good pick for myself. Please read and tell me your thoughts and ideas on what could make this better. I'm far from aperfect writer. Thank you all for your feedback!

 


Posted on: December 07 2014

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FICTION:

Dead Man's Land Chapter 1

by Danielle Jackson Quill-red

 

      "C'mon, Em! You gotta swing faster than that!" Eric mocked as I swung the machete towards the wooden target's head. I huffed. "Don't see you doing any of this!" I yelled, pushing the strand of honey gold hair out of my eyes as I pulled the blade out of the wooden circle. He laughed. "I don't need the practice." He says, crossing his arms." All right, let's take a break." He says as I put my weapon back into its sheath that was attached to my belt. I walk up the steps and onto the porch. I sat down in the old lawn chair and stared out into the sun. It was so calm and peaceful. "Times like this make you forget?" Eric asks. I shake my head. "I can never forget." I say softly, my light green eyes now looking at my shoes.

      Eric put a hand on my shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?" he asks. I brush away his hand and stand. "No. Can I be excused to my room?" I ask. He nods. "You may." He replies as I head into the house and climb the stairway to my room. I go into my room and shut the door. I take out a photograph out of the drawer. "Hey, mom. Hey, dad." I say to the picture. I looked at the calendar. "Two more weeks until the fifteenth anniversary of The Fall." I say. The Fall is what everyone is calling the night when the dead rose, and when my parents were tore apart by those monsters. Eric found me soon after, huddled under an abandoned truck. He took me in, taught me how to defend myself, and became sort of a father figure to me.

       I sigh and fold the picture up before placing it into my shirt pocket. I jog down the stairs and saw Eric in the kitchen, preparing supper. "What caused The Fall?" I ask, approaching the table. He sighs. "Emily, every year you ask me this and I give you the same answer. I don't know." He says, his dark blue eyes looking at me with what looked like pity. I slam my palms down on the wood. "Shouldn't someone on this forsaken world know?! I mean, it almost took out all of humanity!" I yell. Eric shushed me. "Look, I get it. You want answers, I do too. Truth is, we may never know. "He says, running a hand through his black hair that had started to turn grey. "But-"I began. "Until then, the only thing we can do is survive. Alright?" he asks. I nod in defeat. "Good. Now, how about you do me a favor?" He says as he gets a pen and a piece of paper. "You're always having me do favors." I say, laughing. He chuckles.

      "Because you're good at them!" he says as we both share a laugh. He began to write down a list. "I need you to go down to Carol's market and get some groceries." He says as I groan. "Oh, stop complaining! You used to love going there!" he smiles as he hands me the page. I laugh. "Only because she used to give me extra candy and let me ride the mechanical horse!" I say. "Then it'll be just like old times." He says as I head for the door. I smile as I open the door and head down the street.

      We live in a little settlement called Wellspring. There are a lot of empty houses, some stores, and even a school that I attend. Luckily, it's summer. So, I don't have to worry about homework or projects. You could forget about what happened but there's that one thing that always makes you remember. The gate. It's a huge, tall fence that looks like it could reach the clouds. They have guards at the top patrolling at all times. As if the barb wire wasn't enough. I looked out into the deserted land..

     "Emily!" a voice called out. I turned my head to the sound and smiled widely. "Lizzie!" I say happily as we hug each other. Lizzie and her parents arrived here just as Eric brought me back here. We instantly bonded. "What's your mom going to think about you running off?" I joke as she playfully punched me in the shoulder. "They don't care. They're just going over to Mike's repair shop. Dad's gun broke again." She says, putting her red hair up into a messy ponytail. "You wanna walk with me to Carol's? Eric told me to pick up some things for him." I say. She shrugs. "Why not? I got nothing better to do anyway." She says, following me.

      We reached the store and pulled the screen door open. We entered and I pulled out the shopping list. "Why, if it isn't Emily Brooks!" an old woman says. I laugh. "Hey, Carol." I say. She saw the paper and shook her head. "Is Eric making you his errand girl?" she says as Lizzie giggles. I roll my eyes. "No, Carol. He's just busy with everything, you know?" I say as I pick up a basket and start gathering what I need. "I guess so. "She says as I finish getting supplies and walk up to the cash register. She rings me up and I see the old horse near the window. Carol noticed my stare and laughed. "You used to love that thing when you were young! "she says, laughing. I laugh along with her. "Yeah, and you spoiled me." I say. She shrugs as she hands me my bag. I pull out my wallet and pay for the things.

     "You girls have a good day now, you hear?" she says. We laugh. "Yes, ma'am." Lizzie says as we exit and start heading back to my house, bags in one of my hands. I look back out behind the fence. "You ever wanted to see what's all out there?" I ask. "In Dead Man's Land?! No way!" she exclaims. "Why, do you?" She asks, her hazel eyes studying me. I remain quiet. "You do, don't you! Emily, do you know what's out there!" she says, grabbing my shoulders and slightly shaking me. "Yeah, bandits and the Fallen." I say calmly. I then chuckled. Lizzie looked at me, confused. "Wait, why are you laughing?" she asks.

     "We call them the Fallen when they're doing the exact opposite." I state. Lizzie pondered on my words. She then gave a slight laugh. "Yeah, ironic, isn't it." She says. "Won't be too long until we're eighteen." Lizzie says softly. I nod. "So, what are you and Eric going to do on the anniversary of The Fall?" Lizzie asked carefully. I sigh as I take the photo out. "Light a candle for mom and dad, moment of silence, all of that kind of stuff." I say sadly. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." She apologizes. I look at her. "It's fine. I'm used to it." I say. "Can I see?" she asks, pointing at the picture. "Sure. Just be careful with it, alright?" I ask. She nods. "Of course!" she says as I hand it over.

     "Wow, you have a little of both of your parents." Lizzie says as she examines the old photo. "Yeah, my mom's hair and dad's eyes." I say as she hands it back to me. I carefully fold it and place it safely into my pocket. Suddenly, the loudspeaker came to life. "Attention, curfew will begin in one hour. All residents must be in their houses. Citizens who aren't will be dealt with appropriately. "Mayor Williams voice said. Lizzie sighed. "Seventeen years and I still can't get used to this." She says. I shake my head. "I'm not sure if I want to." I say as we approach my door. "Well, I better head home before my parents start hunting me." She says as she begins to jog away. I chuckle as I entered the house, shut the door, and locked the doorknob.

 


Posted on: November 30 2014

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FICTION:

143.

by Kim Quill-red

Before I post the story, I would like to tell you all that it has its roots in India. The setting of this short story is the Purandar Fort in Maharashtra, India. I had written this short tory for a competition. So yeah, hope you don't hate this first attempt of mine! Thanks for reading! PROLOGUE: I had always loved Ritika from afar. The way her brown hair cascaded below her shoulders in perfect curls, her dark brown doe-like eyes always taking in the world with winged liner on them, her secret infinity tattoo on the nape of her neck and her million-dollar smile, oh, it could light up my world! She was ethereal, in every sense. And as her best friend, I could do nothing but hear her recount how she had enjoyed one of her many dates. It was a surprise how she didn't feel the hate emanating from me towards the featured man in her anecdotes. She always said that she was still waiting for her Mr. Right though. She believed that by dating so many men, she was sending across vibes to her one to come and get her already. Ah, how I wish I could wring this faceless Mr. Right's neck. All in all, I was Apollo and she the Daphne I couldn't have. Today, waiting for her to come on our 5th date feels like a dream. I wouldn't have dreamed of having the pleasure of her company, all for myself until two months ago. But, that day at Purandar changed everything... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-1 I remember how excited Ritika was on her birthday. She had her hair down as usual, to hide her infinity tattoo and had worn a simple saree, but she looked like a million bucks in it. Her usually beautiful smile was somehow even more so. 'Damn, snap out of it. You are never going to have her.' I admonished myself and tried to concentrate on the Sinhagad piece that was to be handed over to our boss, Ms. Verma today itself. She wasn't exactly like Miranda in the Devil Wears Prada, but I liked to be punctual. And she was usually fond of me and even favoured me. But being the Mr. Goody Shoes that I was, I never took advantage of it. I worked as a travel writer in an average travel magazine covering the tourist destinations in the lengths and breadths of India. Ritika, Anjali, Ajay, Pratik and I were the only ones in the Maharashtra field and we spent most of our time highlighting the glory of the forts of Maharashtra. We were often sent in teams of two or sometimes three to a fort in Maharashtra every other week to cover the importance and beauty of these heritage sites. Well, it wasn't actually that bad, considering we were paid a substantial amount for our work. The only problem was that I seemed to never, ever get a chance to go out with Ritika. I didn't believe in bad luck before, but when I was almost always the third wheel between Anjali and Pratik, the lovebirds, I had no choice but to do so. Other times when I wasn't with the lovebirds, it was with the brooding, enigmatic Ajay. He wasn't exactly arrogant or snobby, as you expected someone as rich as him to be,, but he was always so quiet. I sometimes had a bad feeling about him, especially when he didn't come to office for a whole week each month. When I once asked Ms. Verma about what was the deal with him, she simply told me that he had poorly health and was advised by a doctor to take a week off each month. He even presented a doctor's certificate, she told me. Well, whatever. And as grudgingly as I do, I have to admit that he was a bit good-looking. Or maybe I say "a bit" because Ritika was crazy behind him. She was gaga over his Adonis-like looks and I knew that she wanted to go out with him on a one of our "fort dates", as she called them, for the longest time. "Hi Rahul! Guess what? Just guess!" she asked me with child-like glee as she came over to my desk that day. "Let me see, a special birthday girl is going out with someone special after work?" I said with a smile. I planned to take her out for one of our rare Cafe Coffee Day sojourns. I was pretty pumped about that, for I lived to see the happiness she'd get from this surprise. "Oh my god, how did you know?" she squealed. "I- what?" I said. "Don't tell anyone, but Ajay is actually taking me out to Gloria Jeans after work. And it doesn't end there,guess some more!", she said, now truly on the edge of bursting with happiness. 'That rascal. Of course he his taking her out today. Of course he is classier and takes her to Gloria Jeans.' I thought. But as usual, I kept these thoughts to myself and tried to look happy for her. "Oh, I don't know! You tell." "Ajay and I are going to cover Purandar fort tomorrow. Oh gosh, it is finally happening! Yes!!!" She looked so happy, I just wished I was the one giving her that much joy. The rest of the day was blur as I was continuously listening to Ritika's happy chatter while giving Ajay a death stare. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER-2 I had to spend that evening with Ritika who dragged me to help her out with her shopping for date today and tomorrow. Friend-zoned guy problems.During the time she was trying a dress in a boutique, I decided to go ahead with the plan I had concocted. I dialed Ms. Verma's number and asked her whther I could accompany Ritika and Ajay to Purandar tomorrow.I think she had a budding suspicion that I was head-over-heels for Ritika and guess what?! I was going to go with them. But, no, not so that I could sabotage their "date", but because I wanted to simply protect Ritika from Ajay. Call it my growing grudge for Ajay, but my bad feeling about him increased manifold. Ms. Verma told me that she would tell it to Ritika and Ajay herself about the change in plan. I went home after dropping Ritika home and I knew that soon I'd get a call from Ritika. I just wondered what her reaction would be. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ritika was actually furious. I expected her to be a bit pleased, but no, she was like a volcano in all its glory. She first blew up on me, then realized that it wasn't my fault, then began cursing Ms. Verma, who she believed hated her. This went on for an hour, and though I shouldn't have, I was growing smugger by the minute. It was when she told me about her Gloria Jeans date with Ajay that I snapped out of it. She told me about how more perfect it couldn't get and how Ajay was in a completely new avatar that evening. There was my heart breaking a bit again. When the call ended, I packed my bag for tomorrow and slept, not knowing that my world would change tomorrow. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-3 When I went to work the next day, there was definitely a change in the impassive Ajay I knew. Wow, maybe Ritika had an effect on him too, which means I got yet another hurdle to cross to prove my love to Ritika. He actually looked irritated that I would be accompanying them too. Ritika was pacified by now, and didn't seem to mind me. We left our office and were on the road in the car provided by the office at around 9:00 am. Ritika and Ajay took the back seat and I rode shotgun. I tried to concentrate on my research of Purandar fort, but I couldn't. All my attention was on Ajay's changing behaviour. He was comepletely lapsing into someone else. He became the kind of guy who I associated to be a playboy. But I held my silence, because after all, Ritika was happy. We reached Purandar at around 1:00 pm and began our work at 2:00 pm. It was decided that I would cover the Purandareshwar temple in the machi (lower ground) of Purandar and both of them would cover the ballekilla (upper area) of the fort. I was loathe to leave Ritika alone with Ajay, who seemed to have changed completely and become someone I was somehow remotely familiar with. Then, I thought better of it and decided to tell them to meet me at the Delhi Darwaja at 4:30 pm. Just before we parted ways, I told Ritika to turn on the Phone Tracker application in her iPhone. She did not question me in her hurry to begin her date with Ajay and did it. I turned on mine too and instantly saw the location of Ritika's phone and felt somewhat alleviated. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I was actually lost in the charm of the temple of Purandareshwar and in the tales the local told me about. I wrote about it with passion and forgot about Ritika and Ajay for a while. It was when I finished my work that I decided to check upon Ritika. Lo and behold! Her phone was only some 300 meters away from me. That was weird. By now, she should have been on the ballekilla. I decided to look for her. I looked for her phone and found it. When I saw the picture on the lock screen, it was that of.. Oh my god, it was him! I knew I had seen him before. It was Atul Shastri, the one who was jailed for the torture and murder of 3 women. And there was one other detail too.. Yes, that when he was questioned about why he did these murders, he said they were in the name of Lord Shiva. I racked my brains to find out why he was acquitted. Yes, he was released on grounds of having Dissociative Identity Disorder and was supposed to be in a mental asylum. And all of the bodies of these murdered women were found near Shiva temples. Fear gripped me and I began running towards the ancient Kedareshwar temple on the ballekilla. I couldn't lose Ritika, that was an option I even refused to consider. When I reached the Kedareshwar temple, all around me was silence. Then I heard it. Her scream pierced the surroundings and it was full of pain. I saw Ritika with her hands tied and a cloth tied over her mouth to muffle her screams. I ran over to her and saw no one else around. "Oh no, Ritika, you are bleeding from your head!" I said as I saw the blood. I untied her mouth and she was simply shivering in 39 degrees. Just as I was moving on to untying her hands, I felt pain and black spots danced in front of my eyes. When I turned around, I saw Atul with his bloodshot eyes and a gun in his hands. "Atul, calm down. This is isn't you, keep the gun down." I said frantically. "No no no, I have to do it. You don't understand, He punished me when I didn't obey his orders twice. He took away my sister and mother. He said that I can bring them both back by killing her. He told me she is Andhaka. I have to kill her." he said in a maniacal voice. Just as he took a staggering step forward, I kicked him and swept him off his feet. He was lying flat onn the ground. I grabbed his gun and made him stand up. "Atul, don't try to move. If you do that, I have no choice but to shoot you." I said, while pointing the gun at him and dialing 100. At the precise moment when I pressed call, he threw a knife with swift accuracy at Ritika. I fired the gun and saw him collapse. I rushed to Ritika and found the knife embedded in her side. Blood was oozing out of her. "Ritika, listen to me. You shall not give up on me. No, you won't. The police will be here soon and we will be home soon." I said frantically. "Rahul, I don't know about that. But I believe that if I ever had a chance to say this to you, this is the perfect moment. However, cliched this is, I don't care, but.. 143." she said with a ghost of a smile. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She remembered. She remembered that of all the silly little things we talked about.I muttered a quiet "I love you" back to her and somehow knew that my happily ever after had begun. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2 MONTHS LATER: Ritika's Point Of View (POV): I got down from the car and spotted Rahul across the road. We went through a lot, we did. If a stranger heard our story, he'd probably laugh at stereotypical events. However, I believe that the same concept of best friends falling in love is always unique. Some have the confessions out of each other the easy way, while like others like us have it the harder way. I think I was actually clear about how I felt about him when I saw him fire the shot at Atul. He would've killed for me, literally. And it was then I felt that maybe, my love wasn't unrequited. Those three little numerals have become like our little secret, and every time we say them to each other, it is like for the first time all over again.


Posted on: November 09 2014

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Not yet rated / 5

FICTION:

143.

by Kim Quill-red

Before I post the story, I would like to tell you all that it has its roots in India. The setting of this short story is the Purandar Fort in Maharashtra, India. I had written this short tory for a competition. So yeah, hope you don't hate this first attempt of mine! Thanks for reading! PROLOGUE: I had always loved Ritika from afar. The way her brown hair cascaded below her shoulders in perfect curls, her dark brown doe-like eyes always taking in the world with winged liner on them, her secret infinity tattoo on the nape of her neck and her million-dollar smile, oh, it could light up my world! She was ethereal, in every sense. And as her best friend, I could do nothing but hear her recount how she had enjoyed one of her many dates. It was a surprise how she didn't feel the hate emanating from me towards the featured man in her anecdotes. She always said that she was still waiting for her Mr. Right though. She believed that by dating so many men, she was sending across vibes to her one to come and get her already. Ah, how I wish I could wring this faceless Mr. Right's neck. All in all, I was Apollo and she the Daphne I couldn't have. Today, waiting for her to come on our 5th date feels like a dream. I wouldn't have dreamed of having the pleasure of her company, all for myself until two months ago. But, that day at Purandar changed everything... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-1 I remember how excited Ritika was on her birthday. She had her hair down as usual, to hide her infinity tattoo and had worn a simple saree, but she looked like a million bucks in it. Her usually beautiful smile was somehow even more so. 'Damn, snap out of it. You are never going to have her.' I admonished myself and tried to concentrate on the Sinhagad piece that was to be handed over to our boss, Ms. Verma today itself. She wasn't exactly like Miranda in the Devil Wears Prada, but I liked to be punctual. And she was usually fond of me and even favoured me. But being the Mr. Goody Shoes that I was, I never took advantage of it. I worked as a travel writer in an average travel magazine covering the tourist destinations in the lengths and breadths of India. Ritika, Anjali, Ajay, Pratik and I were the only ones in the Maharashtra field and we spent most of our time highlighting the glory of the forts of Maharashtra. We were often sent in teams of two or sometimes three to a fort in Maharashtra every other week to cover the importance and beauty of these heritage sites. Well, it wasn't actually that bad, considering we were paid a substantial amount for our work. The only problem was that I seemed to never, ever get a chance to go out with Ritika. I didn't believe in bad luck before, but when I was almost always the third wheel between Anjali and Pratik, the lovebirds, I had no choice but to do so. Other times when I wasn't with the lovebirds, it was with the brooding, enigmatic Ajay. He wasn't exactly arrogant or snobby, as you expected someone as rich as him to be,, but he was always so quiet. I sometimes had a bad feeling about him, especially when he didn't come to office for a whole week each month. When I once asked Ms. Verma about what was the deal with him, she simply told me that he had poorly health and was advised by a doctor to take a week off each month. He even presented a doctor's certificate, she told me. Well, whatever. And as grudgingly as I do, I have to admit that he was a bit good-looking. Or maybe I say "a bit" because Ritika was crazy behind him. She was gaga over his Adonis-like looks and I knew that she wanted to go out with him on a one of our "fort dates", as she called them, for the longest time. "Hi Rahul! Guess what? Just guess!" she asked me with child-like glee as she came over to my desk that day. "Let me see, a special birthday girl is going out with someone special after work?" I said with a smile. I planned to take her out for one of our rare Cafe Coffee Day sojourns. I was pretty pumped about that, for I lived to see the happiness she'd get from this surprise. "Oh my god, how did you know?" she squealed. "I- what?" I said. "Don't tell anyone, but Ajay is actually taking me out to Gloria Jeans after work. And it doesn't end there,guess some more!", she said, now truly on the edge of bursting with happiness. 'That rascal. Of course he his taking her out today. Of course he is classier and takes her to Gloria Jeans.' I thought. But as usual, I kept these thoughts to myself and tried to look happy for her. "Oh, I don't know! You tell." "Ajay and I are going to cover Purandar fort tomorrow. Oh gosh, it is finally happening! Yes!!!" She looked so happy, I just wished I was the one giving her that much joy. The rest of the day was blur as I was continuously listening to Ritika's happy chatter while giving Ajay a death stare. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER-2 I had to spend that evening with Ritika who dragged me to help her out with her shopping for date today and tomorrow. Friend-zoned guy problems.During the time she was trying a dress in a boutique, I decided to go ahead with the plan I had concocted. I dialed Ms. Verma's number and asked her whther I could accompany Ritika and Ajay to Purandar tomorrow.I think she had a budding suspicion that I was head-over-heels for Ritika and guess what?! I was going to go with them. But, no, not so that I could sabotage their "date", but because I wanted to simply protect Ritika from Ajay. Call it my growing grudge for Ajay, but my bad feeling about him increased manifold. Ms. Verma told me that she would tell it to Ritika and Ajay herself about the change in plan. I went home after dropping Ritika home and I knew that soon I'd get a call from Ritika. I just wondered what her reaction would be. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ritika was actually furious. I expected her to be a bit pleased, but no, she was like a volcano in all its glory. She first blew up on me, then realized that it wasn't my fault, then began cursing Ms. Verma, who she believed hated her. This went on for an hour, and though I shouldn't have, I was growing smugger by the minute. It was when she told me about her Gloria Jeans date with Ajay that I snapped out of it. She told me about how more perfect it couldn't get and how Ajay was in a completely new avatar that evening. There was my heart breaking a bit again. When the call ended, I packed my bag for tomorrow and slept, not knowing that my world would change tomorrow. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-3 When I went to work the next day, there was definitely a change in the impassive Ajay I knew. Wow, maybe Ritika had an effect on him too, which means I got yet another hurdle to cross to prove my love to Ritika. He actually looked irritated that I would be accompanying them too. Ritika was pacified by now, and didn't seem to mind me. We left our office and were on the road in the car provided by the office at around 9:00 am. Ritika and Ajay took the back seat and I rode shotgun. I tried to concentrate on my research of Purandar fort, but I couldn't. All my attention was on Ajay's changing behaviour. He was comepletely lapsing into someone else. He became the kind of guy who I associated to be a playboy. But I held my silence, because after all, Ritika was happy. We reached Purandar at around 1:00 pm and began our work at 2:00 pm. It was decided that I would cover the Purandareshwar temple in the machi (lower ground) of Purandar and both of them would cover the ballekilla (upper area) of the fort. I was loathe to leave Ritika alone with Ajay, who seemed to have changed completely and become someone I was somehow remotely familiar with. Then, I thought better of it and decided to tell them to meet me at the Delhi Darwaja at 4:30 pm. Just before we parted ways, I told Ritika to turn on the Phone Tracker application in her iPhone. She did not question me in her hurry to begin her date with Ajay and did it. I turned on mine too and instantly saw the location of Ritika's phone and felt somewhat alleviated. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I was actually lost in the charm of the temple of Purandareshwar and in the tales the local told me about. I wrote about it with passion and forgot about Ritika and Ajay for a while. It was when I finished my work that I decided to check upon Ritika. Lo and behold! Her phone was only some 300 meters away from me. That was weird. By now, she should have been on the ballekilla. I decided to look for her. I looked for her phone and found it. When I saw the picture on the lock screen, it was that of.. Oh my god, it was him! I knew I had seen him before. It was Atul Shastri, the one who was jailed for the torture and murder of 3 women. And there was one other detail too.. Yes, that when he was questioned about why he did these murders, he said they were in the name of Lord Shiva. I racked my brains to find out why he was acquitted. Yes, he was released on grounds of having Dissociative Identity Disorder and was supposed to be in a mental asylum. And all of the bodies of these murdered women were found near Shiva temples. Fear gripped me and I began running towards the ancient Kedareshwar temple on the ballekilla. I couldn't lose Ritika, that was an option I even refused to consider. When I reached the Kedareshwar temple, all around me was silence. Then I heard it. Her scream pierced the surroundings and it was full of pain. I saw Ritika with her hands tied and a cloth tied over her mouth to muffle her screams. I ran over to her and saw no one else around. "Oh no, Ritika, you are bleeding from your head!" I said as I saw the blood. I untied her mouth and she was simply shivering in 39 degrees. Just as I was moving on to untying her hands, I felt pain and black spots danced in front of my eyes. When I turned around, I saw Atul with his bloodshot eyes and a gun in his hands. "Atul, calm down. This is isn't you, keep the gun down." I said frantically. "No no no, I have to do it. You don't understand, He punished me when I didn't obey his orders twice. He took away my sister and mother. He said that I can bring them both back by killing her. He told me she is Andhaka. I have to kill her." he said in a maniacal voice. Just as he took a staggering step forward, I kicked him and swept him off his feet. He was lying flat onn the ground. I grabbed his gun and made him stand up. "Atul, don't try to move. If you do that, I have no choice but to shoot you." I said, while pointing the gun at him and dialing 100. At the precise moment when I pressed call, he threw a knife with swift accuracy at Ritika. I fired the gun and saw him collapse. I rushed to Ritika and found the knife embedded in her side. Blood was oozing out of her. "Ritika, listen to me. You shall not give up on me. No, you won't. The police will be here soon and we will be home soon." I said frantically. "Rahul, I don't know about that. But I believe that if I ever had a chance to say this to you, this is the perfect moment. However, cliched this is, I don't care, but.. 143." she said with a ghost of a smile. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She remembered. She remembered that of all the silly little things we talked about.I muttered a quiet "I love you" back to her and somehow knew that my happily ever after had begun. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2 MONTHS LATER: Ritika's Point Of View (POV): I got down from the car and spotted Rahul across the road. We went through a lot, we did. If a stranger heard our story, he'd probably laugh at stereotypical events. However, I believe that the same concept of best friends falling in love is always unique. Some have the confessions out of each other the easy way, while like others like us have it the harder way. I think I was actually clear about how I felt about him when I saw him fire the shot at Atul. He would've killed for me, literally. And it was then I felt that maybe, my love wasn't unrequited. Those three little numerals have become like our little secret, and every time we say them to each other, it is like for the first time all over again.


Posted on: November 09 2014

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FICTION:

143.

by Kim Quill-red

Before I post the story, I would like to tell you all that it has its roots in India. The setting of this short story is the Purandar Fort in Maharashtra, India. I had written this short tory for a competition. So yeah, hope you don't hate this first attempt of mine! Thanks for reading! PROLOGUE: I had always loved Ritika from afar. The way her brown hair cascaded below her shoulders in perfect curls, her dark brown doe-like eyes always taking in the world with winged liner on them, her secret infinity tattoo on the nape of her neck and her million-dollar smile, oh, it could light up my world! She was ethereal, in every sense. And as her best friend, I could do nothing but hear her recount how she had enjoyed one of her many dates. It was a surprise how she didn't feel the hate emanating from me towards the featured man in her anecdotes. She always said that she was still waiting for her Mr. Right though. She believed that by dating so many men, she was sending across vibes to her one to come and get her already. Ah, how I wish I could wring this faceless Mr. Right's neck. All in all, I was Apollo and she the Daphne I couldn't have. Today, waiting for her to come on our 5th date feels like a dream. I wouldn't have dreamed of having the pleasure of her company, all for myself until two months ago. But, that day at Purandar changed everything... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-1 I remember how excited Ritika was on her birthday. She had her hair down as usual, to hide her infinity tattoo and had worn a simple saree, but she looked like a million bucks in it. Her usually beautiful smile was somehow even more so. 'Damn, snap out of it. You are never going to have her.' I admonished myself and tried to concentrate on the Sinhagad piece that was to be handed over to our boss, Ms. Verma today itself. She wasn't exactly like Miranda in the Devil Wears Prada, but I liked to be punctual. And she was usually fond of me and even favoured me. But being the Mr. Goody Shoes that I was, I never took advantage of it. I worked as a travel writer in an average travel magazine covering the tourist destinations in the lengths and breadths of India. Ritika, Anjali, Ajay, Pratik and I were the only ones in the Maharashtra field and we spent most of our time highlighting the glory of the forts of Maharashtra. We were often sent in teams of two or sometimes three to a fort in Maharashtra every other week to cover the importance and beauty of these heritage sites. Well, it wasn't actually that bad, considering we were paid a substantial amount for our work. The only problem was that I seemed to never, ever get a chance to go out with Ritika. I didn't believe in bad luck before, but when I was almost always the third wheel between Anjali and Pratik, the lovebirds, I had no choice but to do so. Other times when I wasn't with the lovebirds, it was with the brooding, enigmatic Ajay. He wasn't exactly arrogant or snobby, as you expected someone as rich as him to be,, but he was always so quiet. I sometimes had a bad feeling about him, especially when he didn't come to office for a whole week each month. When I once asked Ms. Verma about what was the deal with him, she simply told me that he had poorly health and was advised by a doctor to take a week off each month. He even presented a doctor's certificate, she told me. Well, whatever. And as grudgingly as I do, I have to admit that he was a bit good-looking. Or maybe I say "a bit" because Ritika was crazy behind him. She was gaga over his Adonis-like looks and I knew that she wanted to go out with him on a one of our "fort dates", as she called them, for the longest time. "Hi Rahul! Guess what? Just guess!" she asked me with child-like glee as she came over to my desk that day. "Let me see, a special birthday girl is going out with someone special after work?" I said with a smile. I planned to take her out for one of our rare Cafe Coffee Day sojourns. I was pretty pumped about that, for I lived to see the happiness she'd get from this surprise. "Oh my god, how did you know?" she squealed. "I- what?" I said. "Don't tell anyone, but Ajay is actually taking me out to Gloria Jeans after work. And it doesn't end there,guess some more!", she said, now truly on the edge of bursting with happiness. 'That rascal. Of course he his taking her out today. Of course he is classier and takes her to Gloria Jeans.' I thought. But as usual, I kept these thoughts to myself and tried to look happy for her. "Oh, I don't know! You tell." "Ajay and I are going to cover Purandar fort tomorrow. Oh gosh, it is finally happening! Yes!!!" She looked so happy, I just wished I was the one giving her that much joy. The rest of the day was blur as I was continuously listening to Ritika's happy chatter while giving Ajay a death stare. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER-2 I had to spend that evening with Ritika who dragged me to help her out with her shopping for date today and tomorrow. Friend-zoned guy problems.During the time she was trying a dress in a boutique, I decided to go ahead with the plan I had concocted. I dialed Ms. Verma's number and asked her whther I could accompany Ritika and Ajay to Purandar tomorrow.I think she had a budding suspicion that I was head-over-heels for Ritika and guess what?! I was going to go with them. But, no, not so that I could sabotage their "date", but because I wanted to simply protect Ritika from Ajay. Call it my growing grudge for Ajay, but my bad feeling about him increased manifold. Ms. Verma told me that she would tell it to Ritika and Ajay herself about the change in plan. I went home after dropping Ritika home and I knew that soon I'd get a call from Ritika. I just wondered what her reaction would be. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ritika was actually furious. I expected her to be a bit pleased, but no, she was like a volcano in all its glory. She first blew up on me, then realized that it wasn't my fault, then began cursing Ms. Verma, who she believed hated her. This went on for an hour, and though I shouldn't have, I was growing smugger by the minute. It was when she told me about her Gloria Jeans date with Ajay that I snapped out of it. She told me about how more perfect it couldn't get and how Ajay was in a completely new avatar that evening. There was my heart breaking a bit again. When the call ended, I packed my bag for tomorrow and slept, not knowing that my world would change tomorrow. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER-3 When I went to work the next day, there was definitely a change in the impassive Ajay I knew. Wow, maybe Ritika had an effect on him too, which means I got yet another hurdle to cross to prove my love to Ritika. He actually looked irritated that I would be accompanying them too. Ritika was pacified by now, and didn't seem to mind me. We left our office and were on the road in the car provided by the office at around 9:00 am. Ritika and Ajay took the back seat and I rode shotgun. I tried to concentrate on my research of Purandar fort, but I couldn't. All my attention was on Ajay's changing behaviour. He was comepletely lapsing into someone else. He became the kind of guy who I associated to be a playboy. But I held my silence, because after all, Ritika was happy. We reached Purandar at around 1:00 pm and began our work at 2:00 pm. It was decided that I would cover the Purandareshwar temple in the machi (lower ground) of Purandar and both of them would cover the ballekilla (upper area) of the fort. I was loathe to leave Ritika alone with Ajay, who seemed to have changed completely and become someone I was somehow remotely familiar with. Then, I thought better of it and decided to tell them to meet me at the Delhi Darwaja at 4:30 pm. Just before we parted ways, I told Ritika to turn on the Phone Tracker application in her iPhone. She did not question me in her hurry to begin her date with Ajay and did it. I turned on mine too and instantly saw the location of Ritika's phone and felt somewhat alleviated. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I was actually lost in the charm of the temple of Purandareshwar and in the tales the local told me about. I wrote about it with passion and forgot about Ritika and Ajay for a while. It was when I finished my work that I decided to check upon Ritika. Lo and behold! Her phone was only some 300 meters away from me. That was weird. By now, she should have been on the ballekilla. I decided to look for her. I looked for her phone and found it. When I saw the picture on the lock screen, it was that of.. Oh my god, it was him! I knew I had seen him before. It was Atul Shastri, the one who was jailed for the torture and murder of 3 women. And there was one other detail too.. Yes, that when he was questioned about why he did these murders, he said they were in the name of Lord Shiva. I racked my brains to find out why he was acquitted. Yes, he was released on grounds of having Dissociative Identity Disorder and was supposed to be in a mental asylum. And all of the bodies of these murdered women were found near Shiva temples. Fear gripped me and I began running towards the ancient Kedareshwar temple on the ballekilla. I couldn't lose Ritika, that was an option I even refused to consider. When I reached the Kedareshwar temple, all around me was silence. Then I heard it. Her scream pierced the surroundings and it was full of pain. I saw Ritika with her hands tied and a cloth tied over her mouth to muffle her screams. I ran over to her and saw no one else around. "Oh no, Ritika, you are bleeding from your head!" I said as I saw the blood. I untied her mouth and she was simply shivering in 39 degrees. Just as I was moving on to untying her hands, I felt pain and black spots danced in front of my eyes. When I turned around, I saw Atul with his bloodshot eyes and a gun in his hands. "Atul, calm down. This is isn't you, keep the gun down." I said frantically. "No no no, I have to do it. You don't understand, He punished me when I didn't obey his orders twice. He took away my sister and mother. He said that I can bring them both back by killing her. He told me she is Andhaka. I have to kill her." he said in a maniacal voice. Just as he took a staggering step forward, I kicked him and swept him off his feet. He was lying flat onn the ground. I grabbed his gun and made him stand up. "Atul, don't try to move. If you do that, I have no choice but to shoot you." I said, while pointing the gun at him and dialing 100. At the precise moment when I pressed call, he threw a knife with swift accuracy at Ritika. I fired the gun and saw him collapse. I rushed to Ritika and found the knife embedded in her side. Blood was oozing out of her. "Ritika, listen to me. You shall not give up on me. No, you won't. The police will be here soon and we will be home soon." I said frantically. "Rahul, I don't know about that. But I believe that if I ever had a chance to say this to you, this is the perfect moment. However, cliched this is, I don't care, but.. 143." she said with a ghost of a smile. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She remembered. She remembered that of all the silly little things we talked about.I muttered a quiet "I love you" back to her and somehow knew that my happily ever after had begun. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2 MONTHS LATER: Ritika's Point Of View (POV): I got down from the car and spotted Rahul across the road. We went through a lot, we did. If a stranger heard our story, he'd probably laugh at stereotypical events. However, I believe that the same concept of best friends falling in love is always unique. Some have the confessions out of each other the easy way, while like others like us have it the harder way. I think I was actually clear about how I felt about him when I saw him fire the shot at Atul. He would've killed for me, literally. And it was then I felt that maybe, my love wasn't unrequited. Those three little numerals have become like our little secret, and every time we say them to each other, it is like for the first time all over again.


Posted on: November 09 2014

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Not yet rated / 5

POETRY:

End of Soliphisis, the Merge

by Anonymous

Soliphering, ever unnoticed,

Through a cut in the crack on the wall of your life

Tunneling through chasmic gorges, rifflets in time,

Coming upon a sandbar, where water is warm,

Here I am.

Many moons ago, I was only myself, a head-dweller.

But now, I have come to answer the charmoring of a romarious individual,

My second half.

 

Here you are.

A steadstrong beacon in hurrisoon weather,

The wind-whittled sides of a rocky upcropping,

The tranquil sherbet hues of a horizonic sunset,

The whipples in a waterfall's rapids,

And...heck no, the waterfall itself.

You are gloriousness and finesse embodied,

A sharpness of the mind as it exists beyond my own.

Ond'far myself, I take you to exist.

 

Caught up in the magnitude of your spellbinding magnificism,

My tightstruck coils begin to mersuciously unravel,

Slothening at first, emfortuning beyond,

The electricism of our souls spizz as they spark,

Two souls, now one, no longer unrelones in the dark,

Hear me cry, for this is the end of soliphisis,

Hear me weep, sojoy.

 


Posted on: October 30 2014

1 Comments

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FICTION:

The Japanese Kid

by The Child Quill-orange

The salt air blew swiftly, and the once stagnant sent of the sea coupled with the smell of sea life was now replaced by the unmistakable odor of death. A dilapidated warehouse that sat on the edge of the long pier was the source of the stench. Muffled screams, and gunshots could be heard from outside it's unusually thick doors, but no one was around at this time of night to investigate. Not that anyone would, the locals knew what this place was and avoided it at all costs. The scene on the inside was one of true terror, dismembered body parts littered the floor, corpses scattered about, and blood....So much blood. The once gray concrete of the warehouse floor, was now awash in crimson. The taste of copper could be felt on the tongue even from a great distance. A battle was taking place inside this old warehouse, one of which the world had never before seen. A single man stood among the bodies, gasping, bleeding, still fighting a battle he could never hope to win. His sword, once a magnificent silver was now covered in dried blood, and sinew from a resent encounter with a human hand that had been tougher to go through now that his once razor sharp blade was beginning to dull from too much use. His own blood gushed from an open wound on his chest, and the hilt of a knife could still be seen buried deep within his abdomen. He left it there to stem the flow of his blood, so that he may remain conscience until this fight was concluded. Of the hundreds of men that stood to challenge him, only one remains standing. This was the opponent he had been waiting for. A man he had once called friend now stood blade in hand ready to cut him down. Shear willpower and animal like instinct kept him alive at this point, as his conscience mind had long since been silenced by exhaustion, and turmoil. His training, and sword were all that stood between him and certain death. Attack, defend, back away, repeat. This was what his mind was telling him, over and over like the mantra of a mad man. Attack, defend, back away, repeat. Again and again, neither man was gaining much ground in this fight to the death, but neither yielded an inch to the other. They had trained together as children, shared the same master and were therefore very familiar with one an others movements. But Rei had experience on his side, this fight, this wound, they were among many that plagues his life and made him the fearsome warrior he is today. Yamamoto's movement where that of a man who had sparred before, but he had not yet been in a life or death fight where his very life hung in the balance of his actions. Yet neither him nor Rei would yield, both guided by goals that they felt were just. Rei fighting for his bound family members that lie behind Yamamoto, wide eyed and terrified. They were normal people, everyday blue collar types. They had maybe seen death on a Television, but it had not likely ever unfolded in front of their very eyes as it did this day. Yamamoto fighting for revenge of his master that had been like a father to him, tragically killed before his very eyes. Attack, defend, back away, repeat, the phrase repeated itself over and over in Rei's mind. His thoughts scatters and shatters and torn to shreds by the prolonged fighting, and his deteriorating physical state. Blades clash, blood and sweat cloud Rei's vision. Yamamoto see's his opening and takes it, as any good soldier would do. He moves his blade to the left and smashes his forehead into Rei's. This sends Rei stumbling backwards, the blood stained floor makes it hard for him to keep his footing. He slips, and is send tumbling backwards. Desperately he clammers his mind, he forces himself to regain his footing, but it's far too late now. Yamamoto has moved in for the kill, blade in hand, he rushes the temporarily vulnerable Rei and slams his right shoulder into Rei's chest. The impact causes the blade that's jammed into Rei's lower intestines to descend further into his chest cavity. The pain coupled with his exhaustion is too much for Rei. He falls to the ground, his blade slides across the blood ridden floor before coming to a stop not six feet from Rei in a pile of corpses. Yamamoto not being one to pass on this opportunity plants his foot directly in the center of Rei's chest. Rei spews blood from his mouth, it might be from the few sucker punches he received to the jaw, or the undoubtedly collapsed lung he now had, but blood was now filling his mouth. Yamamoto's face erupted into a sinister smile as he knew he had won. Yamamoto raised his blade triumphantly above his head, and spoke.

 

I've bested you Rei, you were no match for me or my army!” Yamamoto was boasting his impending victory. As he had always done in the past.

 

Well then I suppose you should get on with it then, I haven't got all day.” A cocky attitude was the last weapon he had against Yamamoto, one he knew would cut almost as deep as any sword.

 

Yamamoto was un-phased though, he chuckled softly. “You've got all eternity to relish in your victories, let me enjoy mine for a moment.”

 

It is not often you actually achieve a victory after all, aye Yamamoto?” Rei's scarred and blood covered face managed to crack a smile. Which could barely hide the immense pain he was feeling.

 

This got Yamamoto's attention, his smile quickly faded, and anger found it's way into his level head.

 

SMILE ALL YOU WANT IN HELL!” Yamamoto screamed as he raised his blade to deliver the finishing blow.

 

It was as if time stopped for a moment and let Rei take stock of his situation. His eyes were not fixed to the instrument of his demise, they were looking at his family. The ones he had come here to save, the ones he left behind all those years ago. He looked upon their terror stricken faces in disbelief, they all looked so old. Had it been so long that he couldn't even remember their faces, he though? He felt the pressure of Yamamoto's sword tip finding it's mark right in the center of his chest. Some of his family looked away, most of their eyes filled with tears, some screamed and yelled and struggled against their bonds, but there was no escape. He could not free them as he had promised, they would all probably meet a similar fate as his. Rei kept looking at his family as the light began to fade from his eyes. He saw the darkness closing in on him, it was finally going to take him this time. Drag him down into the depths of Hell where no less than a thousand men were eagerly awaiting his arrival with open arms, and daggers at the ready. Rei's muscles relaxed and an unnatural coldness took over his body, the icy grip of death no doubt. Rei's lost bit of consciousness was fading, the fight was leaving his body, the drive that had help keep him alive was now shutting down with the rest of him. Rei was almost assuredly dead.


Posted on: October 26 2014

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POETRY:

Consciousness

by Simple Tune Quill-red

I see things clearly now as if its been infront me this whole time. The most fundamental...basic...explination. The very essence of what it means to be alive, to live, to dream, to hope for... It's as if this knowlege derived itself from the most basic idea of induction; concockting itself through sheer self-realization and imagination as if it knew where it was going before it knew it was going anywhere. Leaping by bounds and strides, the simplest concept evolved, yet it never moved from where it began. 


Posted on: October 16 2014

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POETRY:

The Fool

by Mr. JerseyDolphin Quill-red

 I don't let a lot of people in

However I let you in

Told you my hopes and fears

You were my queen and I wanted to be your king but you treated me like your personal jester

You used me like a piece of gum, chewed me up and spit me out

Now I'm lost and feeling hurt

Guess that old song is true.... "Everybody plays the fool sometimes"

 


Posted on: September 25 2014

0 Comments

3.0 / 5

FICTION:

Now is Our Forever

by SweetMemoir13 Quill-red

Prologue

 

      'Always', 'Forever', and 'Infinity'. If you count the letters it contains I have exactly place it in ascending order, not that it matters though. But, let's face it; they are synonyms in which each and every one of us dream of having. But, for some people it's just a word anchored with hollow promises enough that it can drown you to endless abyss.

      I don't hate the word but I don't particularly like it. But, this guy came without a certain warning. He came fast like a lightning, swept me off my feet like a whirlwind. He totally shaken my world but nonetheless if he's the ground that will swallow me up, I'll gladly jump in between.

 

 


Posted on: September 15 2014

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FICTION:

Of vengeance and love.

by HorrorOfLovecraft Quill-red

It was a dark night as the neon lights flashed, the dark alleyway was cold, cold enough to see his own breath. He stood over a body, it had been his latest victim. A rich man, owner of a nice company, but not smart. He had fallen prey to the "sirens call" as many referred to it. All it took was some nice whispers, and he came into the alleyway, handed over his wallet, and killed himself. Not very hard for Alcatraz, he had been doing this for a while. He needed the money, but still enjoyed it. Some called him a psychopath, some just plain demented. He dint care, he did his sins with a grin. he had been saving up, for him and his girlfriend. Now he was just saving for the next night at the bar. She had left him, without a reason and took all the cash he had. They were gonna buy a nice house, he had thought maybe he could settle down, now he hated her guts, and would love to see them on the floor. She always was one for a man with some good coin. Someone else had come and offered a better deal and he knew it. He dint care anymore, as they say, vengeance is a dish served cold. And his cold heart could serve it well.

        He finally got a lead. The new man his former girl was with was finally in his grasp. He was gonna make her pay. Pay for breaking his heart, by ripping hers out. He followed the man for a while, getting to know all his usual places. He usually stopped by a bar, not to far from the one Alcatraz usually spent his nights. There were alot of bars, but the closer they were, the easier this would be. It took time, the man was smart, and in most ways his sirens call would most likely not work. So he waited, and waited, till one night when he got just a little too drunk for his own good. He was vulnerable now, so Alcatraz threw on his special made gasmask and waited.

Don, that was his name. As he stepped out of the bar it looked like he could hardly keep on his feet. It was now or never. Alcatraz concertinaed and let his voice bounce, luring the man in. With a grin the man, in almost a sleepwalking like trance, stumbled into the alleyway. As soon as he was engulfed in shadows Alcatraz grabbed him. The man woke out of the trance but his mouth was already covered. Slowly and with an angry voice he asked him" Where is Molly right now" Don shook his head in defiance of answering the question. Alcatraz socked him in the gut, the man threw up getting it only on his shoes, Alcatraz had moved his hand so none would get on him. He asked again “Where the hell is Molly." As he said this he pulled a long hunting knife from the sheath on his left leg. Pressing it on the mans Adams apple. Don wanted to scream but he knew it would mean death. He slowly spoke with a trembling voice" A-at my house. Its over i-in the Richardson area on west street. Alcatraz smiled " rich boy huh? I knew it. Though drinking at a shitty bar like this makes you look dumb. thanks for the info" And with the last sibyl he slit Dons throat. Leaving him to choke on his own blood to death. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the blood off his forearm. Silently, and with a demonic grin he set out, he had a special date tonight, but only one would be going home.

It was a quite neighborhood. Most lights were off by now, with it being so late. It was around 1am, all the rich folk were sleeping happily, except one. As he stood in front of the house, he noticed it was the only one with lights still on. He saw her figures shadow in the window, most likely up waiting for her rich hubby. He wasn’t coming back, but if there was an afterlife they would see each other soon. He had picked up the keys off Dons body before he left. He slowly unlocked the door, as he head her rushing down the stairs he pulled his gun. Her face went from relief to pure dread. It wasn’t her precious Don, but Alcatraz standing in the doorway, gun pointed at her. She looked like she wanted to run, but she knew him, it wouldn’t do any good. She sighed heavily" So....he’s gone isn’t he". Alcatraz nodded, having only a blank expression on his face. "I told him you would come, I told him to take someone with him, now look at me and him, he’s dead and I’m gonna be the same soon" Both were silent for a long while, no movements. She came down the stairs, slowly approaching. She looked into his eyes with a soft smile" It was fun Alcatraz, but i guess I messed up. Do it." Within moments a wicked grin was on his face, he had been waiting for this moment. He felt no sadness, no remorse, only a strange amount of content. Aiming it for her forehead he pulled the trigger. It was over, she was dead. He felt more alive than he ever had. As he walked from the house the thought about his future. He had been working on this for a while, what now? He knew what to do. There were people all over. Some wanted someone dead, and now for a modest price it could happen. His eyes seemed to flare with an evil glow. This was his future. Death itself would be his new best friend. And he was happy for the first time in years.

 


Posted on: August 30 2014

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FICTION:

The Life of Jarion.

by HorrorOfLovecraft Quill-red

It was a simple night in the kingdom of Cornel, much like any other. The peasants sat on the street corners, begging for a spare coin from any late night passer. The more well off citizens slept in their beds, unaware of the horror the kingdom was performing, and the king slept in his royal palace, blissfully ignoring the fact that he has issued such horrific experiments on both magical beast and humanoids. Bret Ainsley, royal advisor and scientist, spent his night doing much, much more then sleeping. Not long ago he had acquired a new test subject, an elf man by the name of Jarion. His village, friends, and family had all been shown no mercy when the king raided the small elf village, killing off them all but Jarion to show his people “the might of the kingdom”. It was not might that had one though. No it had been a sneak attack on the small village. The kings numbers far excided the elfs but he knew of their ability to talk with the animals and plant life. He had also heard many stories of the strong earth magic the elfs could use. Summoning towering earth elementals to fight for them, raising roots from beneath the earth to entwine their enemies, and moving large boulders and amounts of earth to crush any enemies near them without breaking a sweat, the might of the elvs was astonishing. The king craved this power. Craved it with every fiber of his soul, and would do anything for it. During the raid the weaker elvs were trying to escape, but were caught by the party of the kings men stationed outside the back gate of the town. It had been mainly women and children, accompanied by a lower class warrior,Jarion. After slaughtering everyone else, Jarion was left, badly bloodied and bruised, with a broken right leg. They tied him up and threw him into the back of a wagon, putting a gag in his mouth and warning him that any noise he made would be his last.

 He now awoke, strapped down to a long metal table, with odd glowing braces on each of his wrist.  They seemed to pulse with his heart; the faint green glow was the only light in the dark room. Suddenly the lights were on; he squinted and groaned at them shinning. A tall man in a dark long coat stepped in the room, “So our new friend is awake finally? Good, now the test may begin” within an instant he recognized the voice, it was the voice who had ordered him to be beaten and put away, keeping him from death, cruel letting him live with the pain of seeing his friends, family, all cut down before him. Jarion snapped back “YOU BASTARD YOU KILLED THEM, KILLED THEM ALL!”. The doctor took his time, when he was standing right in front of the table, he smack Jarion, hard in the mouth with a test tube, leaving small shards of class in his cheek.” You will learn to behave filthy elf, or you will be punished!.  Jarion spat out some blood and glass, glaring over at the doctor, “Fine you tyrant”. It had taken a while but Jarions eyes had finally adjusted to the light, looking around the room he saw many strange objects, scalpels, test tubes, beakers. He was confused, what was going to happen to him? He could only grimace at what hell awaited before him.

For many days the experiments went on. Each day, he lost more blood, as it was being used. Sometimes they would cut a vein and let it run out, only sealing it moments before he would bleed out. Sometimes they dint need to. For the first two weeks they tested his physical healing abilities. They would slash at him with swords, daggers; hitting him with battle hammers, ect. Somehow he survived for another day of pain. Two weeks past. Night after night, new ways of testing him were introduced. Finally, one day Ainsley walked in, looking smug and content as ever. “The king is pleased with the work ive done on you. He has given you the luxuries of a prison cell for your days now, but don’t try any magic; the cell has protective barriers for that”. Jarion sighed, as he was unshackled he was led to the cell, tired and still in pain. He lay down on the cold stone floor, and for the first time in two weeks, he slept. He soon regretted this though, for his dreams plagued with the images of his family being slaughtered.  He remembered his mothers head as it rolled away, still with its horrific look on its face. He awoke, frightened by the terrible dream.

The guard entered the small room “Wake up elf, it’s time for more experiments.” Jarion slowly picked himself up off the floor, sluggishly making his way to the door.  As the guard put on his wrist restraints, another guard had come down, telling him to hurry up. In his frustration and quickness, he slapped them on, not locking them at all. The restraints did not glow like usual. Feeling like something had changed he finally understood what they had been. Magic restraints, they had used these to make sure no earth magic was done.  Calmly keeping his head high he began to walk along with the guard. He did not notice, and soon revenge would be his. And this mighty king would see the full magical power and elf could use.

Jarion could feel it finally. His magical energy returning, all he needed now was a plant, or some earth. And he could make his escape. As he stepped inside the doctor’s chamber, his eyes darted around. Over in the corner laid a strange looking plant. Its red and purple leaves showing off its poisonous nature, trying to communicate with it, he seemed to see it move ever so slightly. He took this as a yes to his question. He had asked if it had a way to make the poison airborne. He has seen the small amount of dust on it guessing it was a powder. As the doctor approached him he grinned wickedly. “So how is our prisoner today? Did he sleep well?” The doctor laughed an obnoxious laugh but, in the middle of it, Jarion joined in. The doctor looked confused, beginning to become angry he yelled “ what do you have to laugh about!?”.  Jarion smugly replied”…Doctor, you fear what you do not know. And what you don’t know, is that the guards dint put on my wrist shackles on right” Suddenly Jarion jumped back out from the doctor, holding his breath. The air began so shimmer with glowing dust expelled from the plant. It smelled of sour apples, and suddenly, the guards and the doctor began to choke. For a few minutes they choked, faces red in pain. They fell to the floor heaving and gasping for air. As they slowly died at his feet when the dust had settled, he looked into the dying doctors eyes and said “ Your king is next”.

Jarion stepped into the night. Throwing off his shackles, he looked in the distance to see the castle. He began to walk, and then running, soon he was shifting the earth itself to make his stride longer. He has never felt this rage before. But he knew the king was behind this. And for that, the only judgment was death. The same kind of death he had brought all of his friends and family. Blind, painful, angry death, it was all he deserved. And Jarion dint care if he died too in the process. His mother had always told him revenge was not the answer, but now his mother was gone forever. All due to the kings lust for power. No, it was time for the king to meet his end.

As Jarion approached the front gates the guards stopped him.”Halt! What is your business?” and with a deranged smile he replied “I’m here to kill your king!” As he said this two large branches sprung from his hands, impaling both guards, he went on like this, killing many guards. His branches punched right through their armor, his eyes glowing dark green, he was ready for his revenge.

As he walked up the last flight of steps he saw it. A huge door at the end of the hallway, with red doors and designs traced in gold, this is where he was. He walked down the path, all other guards laid dead in their armor. As he swung open the huge doors he saw him. A young boy, only 11 or so, playing by the side of the throne as his father laid in wait. “ So, you finally arrive, a guard told me you were coming then returned to the fight. Im guessing he is dead now.” Jarion nodded slowly, an angry scowl on his face. The young boy looked up from his play things at his father “ daddy…why is there a dirty elf in here?”Jarions face grimaced, this king, this horrible man, had already taught his son the ways of hated. As he thought about it he wondered if his father, the king before this, had taught him the same way. It was sad, knowing that this hatred was taught to innocent kids. But it had to be stopped, and there was still revenge to be had. With a quick flash of his hand the boy was dead. I small wooden spike piercing his throat. Jarion look sad for a moment, then the king spoke “ Come now elf. You did not come all this way to gawk at me did you?” Jarion shook his head, coming closer to the king “ Just tell me why you did it” He mumbled. The king sat back in his chair and frowned “ We humans fear what we do not know, and crave what we do not have.” Jarion nodded knowingly and with a quick, wave, his arm was covered in a branch, what had impaled the king straight through the heart. It was over, but he felt no different. They were all still dead, and there was no going back. This was his life now, and it would not change.

 


Posted on: August 27 2014

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FICTION:

Childish Things

by TheTravellingLemon Quill-red

FOR SOME REASON THE PARAGRAPHS AREN'T SHOWING UP. I'M NEW TO THE SITE DOES ANYONE KNOW WHY THIS MIGHT BE? When the pixie stepped out of the rhododendrons, Abigail gave it only the barest attention before she returned to the half finished daisy chain snaking in the grass before her. She saw fairies in the garden all the time. This one didn't look very interesting. She might talk to it later, if she had nothing better to do. Pixies only startle people who don't expect to see them, otherwise it's just like seeing a rabbit, or a butterfly, or other common garden creature. This was the sixteenth pixie Abigail had encountered since moving to the new house. She knew, because she'd counted. The house in the country had been her father's idea. Something about bracing country air and living in green and not grey. Abigail hadn't really listened. It didn't make much difference to her where they lived, so long as wherever it was had books and pencils and big windows you could stare out of and watch people through. The new house had the books and the pencils and even the windows, though there were no people to watch through them. The new house also had a garden. It was green and had daisies in it and there was a beehive in the corner which you weren't allowed to go near in case you got stung. There was a bush which scratched your arms and your face if you didn't take care. There was an apple tree you could sit in and read your book, if you promised not to tear your clothes. There were animals which dug under the fence and stole the vegetables and the strawberries. There were also fairies. Abigail liked talking to them at first. She liked people and fairies were, basically, just very small people. The difference was that when you got bored of people and asked the to go away, they did. The fairies in the garden stayed until they were bored, talked when they wanted to talk, threw apples at you if there were apples to be thrown and so disrupted whatever you tried to do. They laughed if you asked them to leave, politely or otherwise; and adults never noticed them, so they didn't move for them either. They left only when they wanted to. The best way to get rid of them was not to give them a reason to stay; so Abigail usually ignored them. She was going to ignore this one. The daisy chain she was making was a long one, thirty one daisies and one clover she had put in when she wasn't concentrating properly. She scanned the remaining flowers carefully, looking for the biggest, the thickest stalked, the one which had lost the least petals. The cough was a quiet one, muffled by a small hand, but in the still morning, broken only by bird song and the lazy buzzing of bees, it was loud enough to be heard clearly. Abigail knew it came from the pixie, as she knew it was meant for her, but she ignored it. Her eye had just alighted on another perfect daisy. The cough was louder this time, sharper and there was no hand to muffle it. Abigail reached out and squeezed the daisy stem between finger and thumb. I don't want to talk to you, she thought to the pixie. You're boring. Please go away. The kick came as a surprise. None of them had ever kicked her before. The foot that delivered it was incased in a small, pointy, steel capped boot. The pain in her calf was sharp, there would probably be a bruise. A big, purple black one. She cried out slightly and as she did, her arm jerked. The daisy stem between her fingers broke, right below the flower. She wouldn't be able to use it now. "Look what you did!" She shouted to the pixie, before she could stop herself. "Well you wouldn't listen would you?" He said. "I didn't want to." Abigail scowled petulantly, crushing the flower in her hand. "I want doesn't get." The pixie taunted. "Do you know it's rude to talk to someone with your back to them?" "It's rude to kick people, especially if they haven't kicked you first, especially if you don't know them." Behind her, she heard the pixie blow a raspberry. This one, Abigail thought, was annoying. He was going to be persistent, she could see that. He didn't plan on being ignored. She opened her hand and let daisy petals trickle through her fingers like sand grains. A small shadow was cast over the grass in front of her, as a miniature figure flew from behind her to hover in front of her nose; hands on hips, lips stretched in an impish grin, wings pushing gently at the air with a slight buzzing sound. Abigail wrinkled her nose. "What are you wearing?" He sighed theatrically. "Would you believe me if I told you it was traditional dress among my people?" She shook her head. "No. They usually wear leaves and flowers stitched with grass, or something. That," she said, tipping her head on one side, considering, "is a nightie." The pixie's face had gone slightly red. "Look, I don't like all that flowery stuff alright? Never have, but proper material's very hard to come by." Abigail grinned. Aside from the nightie, the pixie didn't look much different from others she had seen. Short, silver blonde hair, eyes that changed from sky blue, to sea green, to hazel, depending which way you looked at him. He had a sharp chin, pointed ears, wings that resembled those of a dragonfly. He must have been about five inches tall, bigger than many she'd seen, even if she could still send him flying with a flick of her finger. The boots which had left her calf still throbbing were dark brown leather, with shiny silver caps. "Why'd you want to talk to me so much?" She asked him. "Who are you anyway." "My name is not important." He told her "I'm bored." "Read a book." Abigail turned back to the daisy chain. "Don't like books." "Draw something." "Don't like drawing." "Talk to someone." "I'm talking to you." "Talk to someone else." "Don't like anyone else. Don't like you either, but at least you make a change." Abigail sighed. "Do you like anything?" The pixie who's name was not important shook its head. "Nope." She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being difficult." With great care, she picked another daisy from the lawn, split its stem and, with a flourish, added it to her chain. Thirty three flowers. Finally. "Do you want to play hide and seek?" The pixie asked. She considered. She did quite like hide and seek, but she didn't like the pixie she would be playing with. Besides, she had a daisy chain to finish. "You're too small, you could hide anywhere and I wouldn't find you. You could hide in the flowers, or the compost heap, or the hollow in the apple tree or even the bee hive and I wouldn't see you, because you're too small. You'd always win." "I would." Said the pixie, satisfied. "I wouldn't hide with the bees though. Very nasty. I don't like bees." "I do." Said Abigail, watching his shudders with amusement. "Buzz." "Stop it." He muttered. Abigail only smiled wider. "Buzz." The pixie aimed a kick at her nose, but she dodged to the right. "Buzz." The pixie tried another kick, this time to her chin. Abigail winced as the boot connected with her face. "Stop it." "You stop buzzing." Said the pixie. "Shan't" She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry, then "buzz." The pixie lashed out again with his foot, digging the point of his boot into her cheek. It stung. She felt a drop of something warm and wet trickle down her face and drop into the grass. "You made me bleed!" She exclaimed, but he just grinned. "Go away." She told him firmly, but he didn't budge. "Shan't." A second drop of blood was following the first. "I warned you." She told him, quickly dropping the daisy chain. Unsure what she meant to do, he was too slow to get out of the way. A lazy flick of the finger sent him tumbling through the sky and down again into the blackberry bush. A strangled moan floated through the air, but nothing else followed. The morning was still again, filled with twittering birds and the smell of apple blossom, with not a pixie laugh or cry. Abigail lay back with a sigh and watched a ladybird crawl through the grass, each new blade a mountain to be scaled. She reached out a finger and lifted him up. She liked holding insects. The movement of the ladybird's tiny legs made her hand tickle pleasantly. She had a ladybird and a very long daisy chain, it was almost lunchtime. The annoying pixie was gone and probably wouldn't come back, though you never knew with them. She would get a plaster for the cut on her cheek and the bruises on her calf and chin, which still stung, but not for much longer. The bleeding had stopped. The sun was shining. All was right with the world. She never thought she might have hit him too hard. In the tangle of brambles in the corner of the garden, a tiny, winged figure lay broken and still, as a dark liquid leaked into the soil. In the flower bed from which he had emerged, three pairs of eyes stared malignantly at the girl in the grass.


Posted on: August 22 2014

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FICTION:

Making It Right

by Taylor McTague Quill-red

Ch. 1

Today I celebrate my eighteenth anniversary with nobody. We’ve had our ups and downs, but, ultimately, we’ve managed to stay together all of these years. I don’t know how I’ve managed it honestly. I’ve had so many close calls over the years with guys attempting to break that special bond I have with no one, but I made my choice and there is only one person for me.

In case I wasn’t clear enough, that was my obnoxious way of saying that today is my eighteenth birthday and up to this point I’ve never had a boyfriend. That’s not to say guys don’t like me, I’ve just never been that successful at getting them to keep liking me, and today I reached a very pathetic point of officially making it into adulthood without so much as a middle school un-relationship. (A relationship where you say you’re dating, but it’s actually more like an agreement that you’ll hold hands in the hallway, but if you run into them outside of school your relationship goes from technical to nonexistent.) My best friend, Elizabeth, promised me for my birthdayshe would get a guy to kiss me, but I knew very well that was something she couldn’t follow through on; and even if she had done it successfully it wouldn’t have really been the first kiss I was hoping for, and I don’t even want to know the type of guy that would agree to that.

Today for my birthday, I was supposed to go with all of my friends to Dave and Busters, but there just happened to be a huge ice storm two days ago trapping me at Elizabeth’s house. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s not really the eighteenth birthday I was hoping for. We’ve just been incessantly watching romantic movies on Netflix, because I think she’s under the impression that watching other, more attractive people fall in love against all odds will make me feel better about the fact that my life wasn’t written by Nicholas Sparks. I don’t know where her logic is in that, but I’m okay with it because she doesn’t know any better. She’s been dating the same guy for six months, and frankly probably doesn’t remember a time when she was single. Somehow she’s managed to find all of the small group of attractive, Christian, teenage boys who are okay with not going any farther than a Disney Channel kiss. It’s not like I don’t enjoy the occasional romantic comedy, but they make me realize that I will never have what they have in those movies. Mostly because what they have in those movies is very unrealistic and nothing ever happens like that, because, and people hate me for saying this, love doesn’t work that way. You don’t fall in love with someone a week after meeting them, and you especially don’t fall in love in high school. I’m honestly convinced love in high school is a myth created to sell birth control to sixteen year old girls.

We’re in the middle of The Last Song, and I look over and notice that Elizabeth has been texting someone the whole movie. I assume it’s her boyfriend, James, but upon further inspection I realize that it’s not James that she’s texting, which only leads me to wonder. I’m a very nosey person, so naturally I keep trying to see who she’s texting until she notices what I’m doing and sets her phone down.

“Excuse me Nosey Nell, but I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t look over at my phone like you were cheating off a test,” she says slightly joking, slightly serious.

“I’m sorry, but your constant texting is awfully distracting from this movie.”

“It’s a Miley Cyrus movie, why would you be trying to focus on that?”

“Exactly. I’m looking for other things to focus on and your texting is A+ entertainment. Who exactly is so interesting anyway that you haven’t looked up from your phone since you started texting them?”

“If you really must know, I’m texting Andrew about our plans for Thanksgiving. Now if you would excuse me, he just asked me ‘What’s up?’”

Andrew is Elizabeth’s half brother, is a sophomore at our school, and Elizabeth is very well aware of the crush I have on him. It’s not like he’s insanely attractive or anything; he’s actually only like 5’6” and has like a half jew fro, half high and tight. (It makes since because Elizabeth has insanely curly and thick hair, and I suspect their dad used to before he lost all of it) We are just so much alike and I’m only like 5’3” so the height thing isn’t really a concerning situation. He’s so funny and easy to talk to and every time we have a conversation I like him more and more.

I’d heard a lot about him from Elizabeth, but I didn’t meet him for the first time until last January during our school’s production of Les Miserables because neither of them live with their dad. Andrew was playing Gavroche and I was playing Eponine. He came up to me and saved me from an awful conversation with the guy who was playing Marius, Noah Stevens, who was, once again, trying to get me to go out with him. I met Noah in third grade and we always had this back and forth hatred for each other, but around freshman year Noah's hatred turned to an intense crush and it still freaks me out. I don't understand what happens during puberty that turns teenagers into hormonal monsters, but it certainly never fails. This specific time Noah was trying to get me to admit I was in love with him and accompany him to the choir banquet, and I was telling him I’d only consider it if he got Sweeny Todd to shave his beard. Luckily Andrew came up to me and I was able to ditch Noah to talk to him. He told me that he watched me sing On My Own and that it was breathtaking. I told him I was very impressed with his version of Little People and somewhere along the way the conversation turned into us talking about how the creepiest thing you could whisper into someone’s ear is “Where’s the bathroom?” How that happened, I will never remember.

We’ve had a few, really weird conversations since then, but nothing major. I think I just like how it’s so easy to be myself with him and that I can be totally weird and he won’t judge me because he is just as weird. He hasn’t texted me in a while, but I think now is a better time than any.

“Whatever you were going to say, don’t,” I inform Elizabeth, “What you need to say is “I’m watching movies with Kristine because it’s her birthday”. That way he’ll text me “Happy Birthday” and we can have a beautiful conversation.”

“Kristine, I will not play matchmaker for you and my little brother.”

“Come on, please Lizzy. I will love you forever.”

“Are you saying that you don’t already love me forever?”

“I don’t know…I’m starting to lose faith in our friendship…”

“Fine. Just this once.”

I watch her type out the text saying that she is watching movies with me because it’s my birthday and when she presses send it only takes approximately ten seconds until my phone dings. I look at it and, lo and behold, it’s Andrew. I open the text and, much to no one’s surprise, it says “Happy birthday!!”

I text him back “Thanks, I’m amazed you remembered.” I don’t want him to think I employed Elizabeth to say that, and I also want to see if he will pretend that he remembered on his own merit.

 

“Well, I found out when your birthday was

via Facebook, and I promised myself I would remember”

 

“I’m impressed. This is actually the first

happy birthday text I’ve gotten all day”

 

“Don’t take it personally, everyone’s too

focused on their own cabin fever”

 

“Yeah...you gotta love an ice storm that

outshines your birthday. I blame Frozen”

 

“Are you saying you think the Sixteen Candels

air to your eighteenth birthday is due to Disney’s

romanticism of ice? Because if so, I would totally

have to agree with you. Fuck Disney”

 

So...he decided to pretend that he remembered my birthday all on his own...much respect to him. Really, I think it’s flattering he wants to impress me by pretending to have remembered my birthday.

 

~~~~~

 

The conversation went along like that, as they always did; talking about nothing for a really long time. All of our conversations are really shallow and something inside me yearns for something more. I want to get deep with him. (No sexual innuendo intended.) It’s 1:30 am now and Elizabeth fell asleep approximately two hours ago. I’m assuming Andrew fell asleep sometime around then too, because he stopped texting me back mid-conversation.

When she fell asleep I turned off Netflix and put Perks of Being a Wallflower into the DVD player, because I like being reminded about the reality of what life is like in high school. (Minus the whole traumatizing child molestation, suicide of best friend, 90’s drug tolerance shit of course.) The movie just ended and I can’t help but think of Josh Parsons. I met him sophomore year when he moved to our beautiful, little Nebraska town all the way from Arizona.

It was the second day of school, and I was walking to the pizza line in the cafeteria when Elizabeth came running up to me. Well, I use the term run loosely, it was more like a scuttle because of her insanely high heels. I knew something was up because she was holding her obnoxious Vera Bradley lunch box, which meant that she didn’t come with me to buy food. (She wouldn’t eat anything that would risk giving her a zit.) I let her walk with me in silence for a while, not humoring her obvious desire to tell me something until she couldn’t wait for me to say anything anymore.

“So, I have this friend Josh,” she said, “And I told him it would be okay if he sat with us at lunch, because he doesn’t have very many friends.”

“Why doesn’t he have friends?” I inquired, “Is he some kind of freak or something? Does he look like Sloth from the Goonies?”

“No, he just moved here from Arizona. I know him from church,” she said, annoyed with my comment. There was a pause because I didn’t know what she wanted from me here. “So, is it okay if he sits with us?”

“It’s not like if I said no it would change the fact that you already told him he could.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” she said like anything I said actually had any impact on her decision. She walked away and sat down at the table to show Josh where to sit.

I never told her at the time, but when she told me about Josh I thought “This is my chance. Maybe I’ll get a romantic comedy this time...maybe they exist. He could be my first boyfriend. The new kid I just met; it’s the perfect cliche.” I got my cafeteria pizza and sat down at the table. He was already sitting there, and, though not glaringly attractive, I knew he was just my type. He was the “nerdy cute” every girl says they are into...about 5’11” with bad posture, slight acne on his face and yummy old school Justin Bieber hair. I knew that in a year or so he would get a haircut, go on Proactive and maybe work on his posture and he would be the guy every nerd girl went for and I had the upper hand on them. I knew him when he knew no one.

We introduced ourselves and then went on like normal. I developed a crush on him really fast and it kind of seemed like he could have liked me too, but there was no way to know. Homecoming rolled around and I tried everything I could to get him to ask me, even mentioning that my friends had all bailed on me, but no luck, or so I thought. When I got home that night at around 11:00pm he messaged me on Facebook asking me how homecoming was. We talked for about four hours until I fell asleep, and then proceeded to do that every night for the next five months. When I look back at all the messages now I realize I missed blatant flirting and shoved it off with bitchy comments, but back then I thought I was protecting myself from losing a best friend by not letting him know I liked him.

Finally, around February, he manned up and asked me on a date to go ice skating with him at the ice rink in our local mall. I got so excited, but what I didn’t think about was my mom. Even though Josh was a grade higher than me, I already had my license and he didn’t because of the all the permit stuff being transferred over from his move, so I had to drive. I told my mom where I was going and she freaked out more than when I told her I was going to homecoming with Ross Esparza the year before. She always was pushing for me to get a boyfriend and I didn’t know why. She went crazy knowing that I was going on my first real date and I had to practically run out the door. It took twenty minutes to get to his house because we lived on the complete opposite side of town and the date...went...awful. He insulted my driving the whole time, made fun of my lack of ice skating abilities instead of holding my hand like a romantic would, and the entire time I couldn’t help but think of my mom freaking out, and how she would act if this went any further than one date. That made me freak out and almost want to throw up so I cut the date short and took him home. When we got to his house I knew he wanted to kiss me, so, naturally, I kicked him out of car. I didn’t want to puke in his mouth, now did I?

Things got really weird between us after that night and I just stopped texting him back. After the last day of school I thought I would never talk to him again, and I didn’t for six months. I saw him in the hallway going from seventh to eighth period every now and then, but he didn’t really acknowledge my existence. That is until January this year, while I was just casually playing Temple Run suddenly a shocking notification showed up at the top of my screen.

Josh Parsons. Text message.

I opened it up and was surprised by a very casual “Hey you”. I didn’t know what to say. I was in so much shock that I didn’t text him back at all. The next day I went to Les Mis rehearsal and showed it to Elizabeth who was less than surprised.

“I was talking to him the other day and brought up your name. He said he missed you, so it’s really not that big of a surprise he texted you,” she said.

“Well, I was pretty surprised.”

“Yeah. You didn’t even text him back. Ouch.”

“What do I say?”

“I don’t know. “Hi”, maybe.”

“I can’t just say “Hi” after everything.”

“Clearly you can. He did,” she said and stared at me for a second, “How about you say something like “Hey stranger”.”

And so I did and thus we had a conversation about everything we missed in each other’s lives, from car wrecks to family drama to failing classes, we talked about it all, including the unmistakable fact that Josh now had a girlfriend. I didn’t care though, because I knew from the beginning he would be the nerd of every girl’s dreams, but then there was the night of 20 Questions.

Josh and I were texting like always when he confessed to having drunk some Nyquil before starting this conversation, but I didn’t care. My parents were drunk a lot of the time so I figured how much worse can Nyquil be. In a game of 20 Questions he asked me who my first kiss was and I told him it hadn’t happened and he was so genuinely shocked. Then he proceeded to say that he wanted my first kiss to be with someone who loves me, so it should be him. I told him that was the Nyquil talking and he insisted it wasn’t. Then, after that night, he flirted with me like crazy, much against my request and then when Elizabeth texted him to stop he proceeded to flirt with her too. That’s when I knew I had to cut ties with him forever and along with the awkwardness that was basically me breaking up with him even though we weren’t dating, I also had to ask for my copy of Perks of Being a Wallflower back that I had lent him. He gave it to Elizabeth, who gave it back to me and that was the last time I had any contact to Josh Parsons. I knew he was mad at me because he had torn it up and bent my book when he knows how OCD I am.

I look at the clock and realize that it’s now 2:30 am and I’ve just been sitting here staring at the title menu for an hour. I should probably turn the DVD player off and go to sleep. There’s no way we have school tomorrow, because the ice isn’t supposed to melt until afternoon, but here’s to hoping we can at least get out and do something.

 


Posted on: August 01 2014

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FICTION:

And it started.

by midnightshadow Quill-red

It all started that night. The night I won't ever be able to forget. The night that everything changed. Yes, one of the best nights of my life. 
I lay on my bed waiting for his text. Damn, I really like him, I thought. I still remembered the first time I saw him. Yellow shirt, blue trousers, hair falling on his forehead. I was in the corridor walking towards my class, with my friends when I saw his beautiful face. Yes, beautiful. I liked to call him that. It perfectly described him. I never said that to him though, just kept it to myself. His hazel eyes met my eyes, and I guess, that's exactly when I fell for him. I looked away, suddenly feeling paranoid. I did not want him to think of me as some desperate creep. Why was that, I failed to understand at that moment. I thought about him the whole day and could not stop wondering if he had a girlfriend. Pshht, girlfriends. Wrong, I know, but he did look like a playboy, after all. How could such a hot person, like him, just not, not be a playboy? And somewhere deep in my mind I could not stop wondering if I had a chance with him or not... 
Just when I was living that moment again, my phone beeped. I loved talking to this guy. I was finally going to tell him today that I loved him. I was nervous, very nervous, probably more nervous than I had ever been in my life up till this point. I knew it would make him happy, but what I did the last time I told him I loved him, was pathetic. It made me sad and I hated myself for that. I, clearly, had no right to hurt someone like that. Another flashback popped up in my mind. 
"I can't do this anymore, I think we should just be friends again." I messaged Sam. 
"Why did you do this to me?" He replied. 
"I'm sorry, really sorry, but I just don't want to ruin our friendship." And with that, I went offline. I knew I had hurt him, but I just didn't like him in that way. I felt something for Zack. I couldn't do this to both of them. Zack had been telling me that he loved me from the past week. I didn't want him to wait anymore. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to let him know that I loved him. I texted Zack and then when he told me that he loved me, I told him I loved him too. Gosh, I didn't expect him to be that happy. It melted me. I never thought someone could actually be that happy by just knowing that I loved them. I was not used to that. I was used to getting hatred, being abused, being bullied all the time. This was new and I liked it. He told me he loved me again and again and again. All this made me happy. I had put Sam at the back of my mind till I suddenly realized what I had done to him. I didn't like hurting people. I felt bad even when I accidentally hurt a stranger and well, Sam, he was my best friend. The reason I had yes to him on the first place was because I didn't want to hurt him. I never felt anything for him. He was my best friend, that's all. And now all this was killing me. 
I went online and checked my inbox. As I expected, there was a message from Sam. 
"Three words, eight letters, one regret- I love you." This broke me. I had just hurt my best friend so badly. I sucked. I wasn't a good person. I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve Zack. U didn't deserve anyone. I had to fix this as soon as possible. I had to stop thinking about my feelings. With tears in my eyes, I told Sam that I wasn't going anywhere and I loved him too. It was a lie but I had no other choice. I couldn't see anyone hurt. I knew what this meant, though. I knew I had to tell Zack that I couldn't be with him. This was even harder than telling Sam to be just friends. I rushed to my room and took out a blade from my bag. I couldn't take this pain. It hurt way too much. I was a bitch. I started cutting my arm. It didn't take away the pain but it did temporarily take my mind of it. 
Another beep on my phone and I came back from the past. I realized that I hadn't replied to Zack since the past ten minutes. Shit, he'd be upset but I knew exactly how to make him happy today. The thought made me smile.
"You never call me, why?" I texted him, excitedly. 
Exactly two minutes later, he replied: "You've never asked me to call you." WHAT? Seriously? He could've said something sweet. Well, maybe he thought I'd say no to him. Yeah, that might be the reason. 
"Lol, you can call me whenever you want to." I replied. 
"Okay, I will from now on." 
"Okay."
"I love you." Ahh, FINALLY. I've been waiting for him to say these words since we started talking. Okay, it was my turn now. 
My heart beat faster than before I sent "I love you too." There. I said it. Oh my god. Oh my god. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn't remember the last time I had been this nervous. 
"But promise me that you won't ever lie to me." I sent quickly after that. 
A second later my phone vibrated. Wow, that was quick. "Can I call? You can take as many promises from me as you want to." He had said. 
"Yeah, sure." Oh my god. I couldn't believe this. He was actually about to call. I wasn't good at talking to someone on phone for long. How would I talk to HIM? I mean, I just got nervous every time I saw him. How would I say "I love you too" to him on phone? 
I still remembered the first time I talked to him in person. It was just a few days after we had started texting each other and he had confessed that he loved me. He had texted me that he wanted to talk to me and told me to come to the physics class when everyone had left. That made me nervous too, a thousand times more nervous than this time, actually. Texting him was something different. Hell, seeing him was different too. But actually talking to him was...overwhelming. What if he didn't like my voice or my style of talking? I kept on thinking about this stuff when my friends pushed me towards the door where he was. He was sitting on a chair wearing a black shirt. And he looked breathtakingly handsome. I could just look at his face all day and never get tired. I could smell him from a distance. He was looking right at me which made me even more nervous and I just couldn't look at him. I wanted to, like really wanted to but, he took away the little confidence I had, from me. He gave me butterflies by just looking at me. The way he looked at me made me forget all the worries I had...even that I had a so-called "boyfriend" whom I didn't consider one, though. I kept my eyes on my phone and pretended that I was texting someone when in real, I wasn't. I was just scrolling my messages up and down. He kept on talking and talking and I kept on nodding me head. He was asking me to tell him whether I like him or not. Stupid him, he should've understood by now that all my guts had already run miles away from me. A few minutes later, one of his friends came to the class we were in, to put his bag on his seat. He gave Zack a "oohhh" smile and i wanted to hide in a hole and never come out of it. And then after what felt like an eternity, I heard him say "I love you, Kate." And I looked up at him, right in his eyes." I felt something, I swear I did. I felt like I belonged to him. I wanted to be his, just his. I wanted him to be mine. After like two seconds, I broke our eye contact. I thought I'd fall any second with just what he was doing to me. Urghh. Why was he making me feel this way? When I finally couldn't take the oh-my-god-you're-so-cute-i-want-to-be-yours feeling any longer, I turned around saying "okay, I gotta go" and left, just to feel bad about how rudely I left without saying a proper bye, later. So, I texted him that I was sorry I had to go and he told me that it was okay. Yeah, he wasn't a bitch like me. 
He called and I picked up just as my phone rang. 
Okay, let's do this. "Hello?" I stuttered. 
"Hey, how are you?" He seemed comfortable, unlike me, and my confidence seemed to come back..a little. 
"I'm good, what about you?"
"I'm good too." 
"Oh." What? Are you out of your mind, Kate? Stop being a bitch. A voice inside my head started to say. 
"I love you, Kate. I love you so much." Heartbeat fast. Out of breath. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. What do I say? Shit. Shit. Shit. 
"I l..l..love you too, Zack." I stuttered. See? That was not hard. 
"You won't do what you did the last time, right?" 
"No, ofcourse not." And all the guilt came rushing back. Not now, Kate. Not now. Just concentrate on what he's saying. 
"I love you. I seriously do." 
"I love you too Zack." I managed to say it perfectly this time..well almost. "But promise me now that you'll never lie to me." 
"I promise, Kate. How can someone lie to a person whom he loves so much?" He said immediately. 
"I don't know, but you know when someone lies to me, it feels as if I'm not good enough. 'Cause if I was, they would've told me the truth. There wouldn't have been a need to lie to me. It hurts, you know?" 
"Kate, if someone lies to you, that doesn't mean that there's a fault in you. It's just that, they are the people with flaws. I might lie to a million other people, but I promise that I won't ever lie to you. No matter how bitter the truth is." 
"Thanks. This means a lot." 
"I love you." 
"I love you too." And we talked all night. Talked about random stuff. Talked about him. Talked about me. Talked about us. And somewhere between all our talks, I started to like him just a little more.


Posted on: July 05 2014

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FICTION:

Photosensitive

by lex Quill-red

CHAPTER 1: APERTURE

As I watched his bright blue eyes fade to a dull gray I realized he was telling me the truth. The truth that I didn't want to hear but the truth is what he swore to me long ago. At that moment I couldn't tell if the truth is what I wanted to hear or if I wanted him to lie.

I held my breath afraid that if I let it go then he would somehow disappear all too quickly like breath in the wind. I watched him clench his teeth like he had done so many other times but this time it was to me. He always did it when he was forced to admit something he didn't want to. That was one of the many things I had learned about him.

My body shook softly inside as my outside stood strong and steady. I felt as if I could feel every single one of my veins and the blood pulsing through each of them. My heart was at a complete stand still and I was sure that if someone checked my pulse then there would be nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

 

 

August 21st

“You made the right decision by letting him go,” Evi said hopefully. “You're nineteen, you can't just pack up and move all the way to another country just because he wants you to.”

“I could have,” I noted taking another bite of my ice cream. Ben & Jerry's was a life saver and forever will be. The fact that I was in boxers and a T-shirt with no bra on at two in the afternoon was a definite sign of heart break.

“Yeah but that would have been stupid and insane,” she replied. “You have a future here in Maine. I mean who in the hell goes off randomly without proper reasoning?”

“He did,” I replied vaguely.

“Okay, I get it. You miss him. It's understandable.” Evi and I had been friends ever since I could remember. She was always there for me when I needed her and even when I didn't think I needed her. She was the shy type in front of people but around me she opened up. She gave her honest opinion to me and me only but to others she was a total people pleaser. “But he has moved on and you know that.”

“Maybe there's still a chance that--” I tried to spit out but there was no use. He wasn't coming back and I knew that but the memory of him wouldn't leave. It just wouldn't go. I had tried everything but he left and took everything with him including a piece of me. It sounds cliché and stupid, yes I realize but I can't forget him.

“I don't think that ice cream is working,” Evi decided, taking tub from me. The spoon dangled from my mouth hopelessly. “We have tried everything, Rorie. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate seeing you like this.” She was right, we had tried everything. I just shrugged and glanced over at the mirror on my dresser. My long light brown hair was in a messy braid and my freckles popped out like tiny angel kisses. That's what my mom always called them when I was little and it always made me giggle. “Your mom has considered a therapist, you know that right?”

“She's mentioned it.”

“And still, here you sit. Not even trying to fake that you're alright,” she shook her head. Then my door slowly creeked open.

“Hey girls,” my mom's head peeked from around the door. Her hair was in a high pony tail and it appeared that she was getting ready to go to yoga or something.

“Hi Ms. Faye,” Evi was always cordial with my mom which was odd considering she'd known my mom for years. My mom always insisted on Evi calling her Jen but Evi wouldn't have it.

“Still in your pajamas, I see,” she tried to hide the shame in her voice but it was evident.

“Yup,” I replied. I watched Evi and my mom exchange a look.

“Well I am off to pilates so I'll be back a little after four.” I nodded and she was gone. Evi looked at me with puppy dog eyes like she was begging me to pretend I was okay.

“It's going to be fine.” I reassured her. She sat puzzled for a moment then all of a sudden popped up like a spring. Hope spread throughout her face.

“Come on,” She tossed my jean jacket to me and grabbed her keys from my dresser. I met her at the bottom of the stairs and finally out the door to her sleek black jeep. Well it used to be sleek until Evi got it. She is very responsible and neat but her friends aren't which is the result of her dented and banged up jeep.

I skittered after her. She threw herself into the jeep and started it before I could even get it.

“Slow down there,” I said. “Where are we going anyway?”

“You'll see,” she waited patiently for me to put on my seat belt. She was a nazi about safety.

“You know, I don't really feel up for a road trip right now.”

“I don't care. This is for your own good.”

“Ev,” I desperately tried to get her to turn the car around but it wasn't happening, I knew that.

“We are almost there,” she whipped onto a back road and then I knew where she was going.

“Why would you do this?” I almost screamed.

“You have to face your fears, Rorie.”

“I'm not fucking afraid,” my mood had changed from desperate to pissed off in .2 seconds flat. She was taking me to the one place I didn't even want to think of. “I just don't see why you would even do this.”

“Maybe if you talked about it and got back to it, you could let it go.” I just shook my head. I had no words for what she was doing. She pulled into an empty field and shut the car off. “Alright tell me about it.”

“You were there, you know exactly what happened.”

“I forgot,” she lied.

“Evi,” I pleaded.

“Listen, I am not going to watch you mope on and on about this bullshit anymore. You have to get over it one way or another. Tip toeing around it won't do you any bit of good.” I thought about it for a while but it still didn't make sense. Taking me back to place where Asher and I met wasn't going to help me get over him, it was going to make me wish I was with him even more but I guess I had nothing else to lose.

“Alright, alright. Fine.”



 

May 17th

“I'm going to lift you up in one, two, three!” I heaved Evi over the fence with so much force that as she toppled over the fence, her skirt flew over her head. She spit with laughter as she rolled on the ground. “Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

“I'm—fine--,” she howled. I shimmied my way over the fence and met her on the other side where she was finally on her feet. I looked ahead of us where lights were strung anywhere possible. Stages lit up like lighthouses showing people where to go. Guitar riffs filled the air and the smell of alcohol consumed what was left. “I can't believe we snuck out.”

“Well technically we are back on summer break and we are nineteen so we don't have to abide out parents rules anymore!”

“I guess that is true.” We had been living near Portland, ME where things are always buzzing for our first year of college. We came back for the summer because Evi was convinced that her childhood crush Matt was finally going to hook up with her. She claimed he called her a few weeks ago but he called at about 3am so I don't think that counts for anything but a booty call. “This place is electric!”

Electric was the exact word for it. This festival was where all of the hippies came out of Maine. Alternative and Indie music was what was luring them in.

“It's amazing!” We walked across the field to where the action was. We stopped by multiple stages trying to find the right band to stop and listen to.

“Hey, have you seen Cam and Ethan?” Evi looked around but couldn't find them.

“No, they were supposed to meet us right around here.” Just then I see Cam's light blonde hair peek around the corner along with Ethan's flashy blue skinny jeans and a matching scarf.

“It's about time you two showed up!” Ethan's voice was as unique as any other gay guys.

“We had a few,” I paused looking at Evi who was already shaking with laughter. “Difficulties getting over the fence.”

“But you're here now!” Ethan said happily. Ethan and Cam have been friends ever since I had known them. Ethan had a bubbling personality and enjoyed filling silences with words or any odd thing really. Cam was the exact opposite. He was painfully shy and avoided any moments where he was going to be singled out. They evened each other out which was cool to see.

“I have been dying to get a strawberry smoothie ever since we got here,” Evi shouted. I looked at her confused since she hadn't said one word about it but her personality was always a bit over the top when she was with Ethan. It's kind of hard not to be excited about everything when you were with him.

“Then why are we still standing here?” Ethan put his hands on his hips. “Cam Bam, do you want anything?”

“Uh,” Cam ran his hands through his hair. “Sure, I'll have what-- whatever you get.”

“Great,” Ethan smiled, reassuring Cam that it was going to be okay and Ethan forced a smile back. “Rorie, you want anything?”

“Nope, I'm good. I'll just wait here.”

“Okey dokey!” Evi said as she skipped away. I felt awkward as people stared at me just sitting there so I went and sat down by the nearest tree. I ripped out strands of grass from the ground and let them go while watching them float along with the breeze. My daydreaming was interrupted by the flash of a camera. I looked up quickly and saw that a guy about 6 feet tall with curly brown hair had a camera to his face pointing right at me. I instictively put my hand up covering my face. He slowly put the camera down and the first thing I noticed was his bright blue eyes.

“Oh man, that is such a buzzkill,” his accent was not at all American.

“Sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to be ready for a close-up.” He edged closer and closer until finally he sat next to me.

“They are lovely images,” British. He was definitely British. Or European, I wasn't an accent expert. “If you'd like to take a look.”

He pushed the camera towards me. “No thanks. I think seeing the pictures would definitely turn down the stalker vibe.” He laughed.

“I wasn't stalking you, love.” I'm sure he saw my body jolt at that nickname. The kid had major guts. “I just like taking pictures of beautiful people doing meaningful things.”

“Very cliché,” I replied and he laughed again. “How is picking grass from a field meaningful?”

“The way you were doing it. It's like you were letting go of all of the things that were troubling you. It was neat to watch and excellent in photograph.”

“Or I was just passing the time while waiting for my friends to come back.”

“I'm Conall,” he said reaching his hand out.

“You're gutsy, Conall.”

“You know I may have just gotten to America a few weeks ago but in Wales when someone tells you their name and holds out their hand that means that the person on the other hand is meant to do the same.”

“I'm Rorie,” I replied, finally shaking his hand and he grinned.

“Rorie,” I watched my name being made by his lips. “That's an interesting name. What's the meaning?”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course. Every name has a meaning. For example, Conall means “strong wolf.” Meanings of name can give you a bit about someone before your really know them.”

“Hmm, well my name is actually Aurora.”

“Meaning?” He pressed on and I gave him a sharp look.

“What do you think it means?” I retorted.

He thought for a while before finally replying. “Stubborn,” was all he said. I laughed.

“Stubborn? That's all?”

“Yes.”

Aurora was the mythical Roman goddess of the dawn.

“Ah, I was close.”

“Almost.” I smirked. “So what are you doing in America? Or for that matter, Maine?”

“Photography.” He picked pieces of grass from the ground and let them go just as I had. “Believe it or not, Maine is magnificent.”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“I guess you just haven't been to the proper places.”

“I've lived in Maine my whole life, I've seen all there is to see.”

“There's always something amazing out there that no ones seen.”

“And that's your goal?” I asked sneaking a peek of him. Freckles lined the bridge of his nose and I couldn't help but notice a tattoo peeking out from beneath his button down shirt. I mean who wore that to a festival anyways? “To find the things that no one has seen?”

“Essentially,” he met my gaze and I quickly looked away. I looked up to see Evi dancing around Ethan as Ethan sang the lyrics to the band that was playing. Cam stood by rubbing his neck with his hand awkwardly.

“I should probably get back to my friends.”

“Bummer,” he said. “But I guess that'll be alright.” I awkwardly stood up as he sat rummaging through a bag of his. I guess that was his way of saying goodbye. I spun around just as I felt his hand catch my forearm.

“Hold on,” he said. “I couldn't let you get away that fast.” He held an old-fashioned camera in his other hand.

“Another camera?”

“Take a photo with me,” he urged. “A non-creepy or stalker-ish photo with me.”

“If I do, will you let me go?”

“I suppose,” he smirked.

“Fine,” I replied. He stretched out his arm and faced the camera towards us. I smiled shyly. The photo slowly slid out of the camera and he waved it in the air.

“Just a moment,” once again he reached into his bag. He pulled out a marker and began writing on the back of the picture. I rolled my eyes at him but he continued to write. “Alright, that should be good.” He handed me the picture.

“What's this for?”

“It was very nice visiting with you, Rorie.” He pulled his bag onto his shoulder and walked away. I slid the pocket and went back to my friends.

“Who was that?” Cam asked. Ethan and Evi were too busy dancing and shouting like fools.

“I don't exactly know.”

“Well he gave you something didn't he?”

“Yeah,” I pulled the picture out of my pocket. You still couldn't see the picture but the writing on the back was clear and fluent.

Aurora, it was very grand to meet you but I don't want that to be the last time I see you. Like I said, I can't let you get away that easily. Meet me at the record store down on 21st tomorrow at 10a.m.

-Conrad

“Are you going to go?”

“I'm not sure,” I replied reading the note over again. I flipped the picture over to see Conall's face shining brightly in the moonlight and me smiling meekly next to him. “Maybe.”

 

 

August 22nd

“How are you feeling?” Evi asked sitting on my porch with me.

“Not bad, actually.”

“So my exercise worked yesterday worked?”

“I don't know if I'd say it worked but it didn't make anything worse.” I replied.

“Progress,” she smiled.

“I suppose,” I smiled back.

“So what happened after you met him there?”

“What makes you think I met him there?”

“Rorie.”

“Alright, alright. I met him there.”

“I know,” she replied. “What happened?”

“Well,” I began.

 


Posted on: June 16 2014

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