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I have had to stop writing for a moment because my pain almost got the best of me again. The best way to describe it 99% physical, from my injury, and 99% mental, from all the damage my injury caused in my life. The pain was returning and physically crippling me again and in the past all I could do was hide from the world. So that’s what I did, again. I could say I’m fighting too many battles and I’m tired of fighting the world or that my writing computer broke, but the truth is that I was just scared. Scared of sleeping because I keep dreaming of the life I once had or should have now but don’t, so I don’t sleep much anymore. Scared of talking to people or seeing anyone because I don’t want people to feel sorry for me, I don’t like the word sorry because it’s proved meaningless in my life and has only served to hurt me. And to the opposite, people can say some pretty mean shit and it does add to the pain, just because I don’t see the people talking doesn’t mean I can’t hear. Anyway, I’ve had a lot of time to think about writing and the whole horror thing. Since too many people have their own definition of just what horror is, I’ve decided to just write under Dark Fiction because that’s what it really is. Just dark stories and people can call it whatever they want from there. I have stories that range from science-fiction to supernatural to who knows what the hell to call it, but they are all a dark and a little screwed up. My real life is a psychological horror in itself with the way out always being just out of reach and the only way to truly get out is to keep trying, to keep writing.

In Darkness Hides

Have you ever been alone in the dark, I mean really alone with no one in the house but you? Are you afraid because you are alone? Or is it because you can’t see what’s in the shadows? Monsters, snakes, an escaped lunatic, anything could be hiding in the darkest of shadows and you would never know, just watching and waiting. The fear becomes terror when you know what’s hiding there, just toying with you, waiting for the perfect moment to jump out at you.

Some say it was mass hysteria while others simply refuse to believe it, as if it never happened. Others just don’t talk about it, but it did happen and it will happen again. All we can do is be prepared and never forget. It started with a series of earthquakes throughout the night, everyone on Earth had to have felt them. They were nothing major but they were big enough to get your attention. I remember I had just woken up my daughter so she could get ready for school when a larger earthquake hit. After checking up on her, I ran outside to see if it caused any major damage to the house or neighborhood. Something was different. I noticed the sun was not rising, like it wasn’t there. I ran back inside to look at the clock and it was around 7:00 AM. This time of year the sun should have been at least brightening the sky in the east.
“What the hell? I must be dreaming.”
Then my world went black.
When I came to, it was hard to breathe and I could hardly move. For three days I was stuck to the floor, the only way I could tell was by the old grandfather clock we had sitting in the corner of the room. I didn’t know what exactly had happened or how but the gravity I felt on my body was immense, not normal. It seemed maybe ten times what it should be, I can’t be sure. All I knew for sure was that I was pinned to the floor and getting up was not an option. The sun was not rising and setting as usual, it started to set at about eleven AM. I also remember the sun would set though the picture window in the front of the house where as now, it would rise. The first day everything felt like a dream. I was disoriented and dizzy, in and out of sleep. It was very quiet and from what i could tell there was no electricity, the only sound I heard was that of my lungs gasping for air. I tried to move but nothing happened, my body squirmed a little so I knew I wasn’t paralyzed. I tried to figure out what was happening but my mind kept drifting away from the subject and nothing made sense. It was as if this was all some strange dream or nightmare. It didn’t really matter because it’s not like I could have done anything about it anyway.
By the next day the storms came in. I could hear trees falling and branches snapping but the wind didn’t sound that strong. Every drop of rain seemed to pound on the roof as if it were raining small rocks. I was still constantly drifting in and out of consciousness when a large tree from the neighbor’s yard, crashed into the garage and woke me. I tried to move again but the weight was still too much for me. I began to wonder if this was happening everywhere and at the time I just couldn’t comprehend that with the Earth being in a new position, it indeed affected the entire planet. My mouth was drying out and I remember wishing I had water when a strong wind pushed through the crack in the glass on the picture window. The glass shattered and the pieces nailed themselves into the hard wood floor. It scared me so much that I lost control of my bladder. With the added weight, that glass could have killed me. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Not even a title yet

This is from a very old idea and I have no clue how it will turn out. This is how I build up some of my stories. I set up the story line in first person and add on from there. So this is a rough rough draft and I’m kind of excited to see where it goes.

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My name is Cevin Del Lorrelli, pronounced like Kevin. My father was a clown indeed. That’s why he spelled it with a C, as in clown. He loved making people laugh and putting smiles on the faces of children. After a show, he would show up to birthday parties just for the love of it. He would never charge a dime. It was a sad day in clown history when he passed. He was duped into thinking he was going to entertain at a child’s party but when he got there… Well let’s just say he didn’t die doing what he loved. The show he worked for kept me with them and started paying me to work in the background. I tried to be a clown but they kept telling no. I just wanted to follow in my fathers footsteps.

One night while I was breaking down a tent, I learned a secret about the show that I was never supposed to know. I learned that everything was real. The magicians performed real magic and the trapeze artists could really fly. The clowns that ran everything were not human, they wore the makeup to hide what they really looked like. All this was hidden in plain sight, not even I knew. My dad knew they weren’t human and didn’t mind. He just saw them as fellow clowns. I found out that they kept my dad around to avoid suspicion and talk to police if they needed him to. They had to get rid of him once he learned what they were really doing. They would stop at towns with a high missing persons rate so no one would catch on, and no one ever did. These things would lure an unsuspecting family to a private show then devour them. In my fathers name, I couldn’t let that happen.
After overhearing them talk, I just had to see for myself. That night I crept into the private tent that I was never allowed to enter and I hid. They started with a simple show full of jokes and gags then would bring the family to the center of the tent and surround them. They became like wild beasts, ripping and tearing away at their flesh. I made my way out of the tent and tried not to vomit. I knew their secret and if they knew I found out, they would have killed me too.
The next day I avoided everyone and stuck to my job. I hammered in the stakes that came loose, picked up trash and made sure the show would go on. When anyone would ask me anything, I just kept my head down. The night came and they were getting ready for another private show. I hid in the tent once more and this time, I brought my hammer.

Work on “In Darkness Hides” the First story for V1#3

So the story I’m working on right now, In Darkness Hides, was originally two different stories from the same dream. That’s where the title Dark Dreams (now a completely different story in Fate’s Darkened Beauty V1#1) came from and the other title was A New Day. When I started writing the story outlines as a teenager, most of my stuff was very apocalyptic and this was one of them. The poles shifted on the Earth’s axis and the research at the time (around 1990-91) stated that if something like that did happen, gravity would be out of whack for a few days. But there where two elements to the story which is why I split them in the first place, the dark element that made surviving an apocalyptic event worthless, it’s like being up shit creek without a paddle then you get a big hole in the boat. Now the two are joined once more and it’s heading into a direction I never thought it would. As I write, sometimes not even I know the outcome when I start so of course like the readers I want to know what’s going to happen too.

Horror in My World

I write horror, though today people seem to have a different opinion of just what horror is. It creating a character that the reader or viewer can relate to then putting them through some kind of horrific event, that’s where the name horror comes from, at least that’s how I see it. It’s not dumping buckets of blood on some naked girls, yes that gets viewers and readers but, that doesn’t make it horror. You don’t need death or blood or some kind of supernatural event for example: A girl stands up to accept an award for school and goes up on stage. When she takes a bow , she farts and the microphone picks it up. Then the sound echoes throughout the hall. What she feels and what readers and viewers pick up on is the terror coursing throughout her. That is horror. Today most people try to make the bloodiest, goriest thing they can, throw in some nudity and slap a horror label on it. Then they wonder why, if they have so many viewers they have a crappy rating. That’s because after the viewer gets their cheap thrills, they don’t care about the story and can’t relate the the characters. To me that’s not horror. Don’t get me wrong, I know some great erotic horror writers out there and a lot of them are right here on WordPress but I’m not talking about them. They create great characters that are the main focus of the story and they are put through some hell. You can’t help but to follow their torment, that’s Horror! I do use supernatural events and blood and some gore in my stories but the main focus is on the characters and what happens to them. I try getting the reader to feel the terror that the characters are experiencing, I want them to follow the story line and not get caught up with, “Are there boobs and blood?” I going to put an end to this rant because I need to get back to my books. I just hope this give some insight to the true nature of Horror that we all love.

The entire first chapter of Life Once Was

Here it is, the entire first chapter of my novel.

Dreams can be quite strange , they can be good, bad or both. They can be your most amazing fantasy or be your worst nightmare, reflect what happened during your day or bring out your worst fears from the past. The strangest things about dreams is that they can be deceptive by giving you a truthful glimpse of what is to come. Dreams are strange indeed.
As David walked down the street with his thick leather boots and olive drab jacket, he had no emotion of any kind on his face. He just moved with a purpose. All was dark and quiet except for the little bit of liquid sloshing around in the gas can he had with him. The moon was dim but gave off just enough light for him to see his surroundings. There were no people around that he could see, the streets were empty, lifeless and silence was cold. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there though the neighborhood felt eerily familiar. Still, he didn’t let it bother him, he just kept on walking with the wind seemingly following him. The houses around him were abandoned and falling apart but not enough to conceal their former charm and composition. He could still tell that this was once a beautiful neighborhood that was full of life. The once white picket fences were now in disrepair, charred and broken, plants that had been vibrant were shriveled and dried up and dead, lawns once neatly manicured were spotted with overgrown weeds with trash and debris blowing around them.
When he came to the middle of the block he stopped and thew the near empty gas can at a house. Reaching into his pockets he pulled out a lighter and some crudely fashioned sticks wrapped in and oil soaked rags. David spoke under his breath, “It’s time to start anew.” Then without thought and still emotionless, he lit the rags on fire then threw them at the nearest house. Almost instantly the house took to the flame and spread up and down the street jumping from house to house following the trail of gasoline he had laid out.
David kept walking down the empty street, houses now ablaze, like nothing was wrong. Just watching the houses burn as if the neighborhood was still in it’s prime and covered in Christmas lights. This brought David comfort and somehow made him feel safer. He gave himself false memories of children that once played there, laughing and chasing each other up and down the street. Of people pulling into their driveway and waving at their neighbors. He thought of an old woman that took pride and loved working in her flower garden. He just wanted to picture that neighborhood they way it might have been. Continuing on, the fire from the burning houses lit up the sky with it’s orange glow, lighting his way through the night. Then something in one of the houses caught his attention, pulling him out of his daydream. He noticed some kind of movement coming from behind the flames. When he got a better look, his eyes widened as he saw the burning silhouettes running around erratically inside the inferno. David began to panic. He started waving his arms and running toward the burning figures trying to get their attention. He began shouting, screaming, calling for anyone who could hear him but something was different, something wasn’t right. As he shouted his voice was not there, instead only silence was emitted. His mouth was open but the only sounds were that of wood crackling in the fires.

Dream sequence for my novel

I had posted the original dream sequence back in September but have since revised and edited it on Sunday. I had a chance to take a break from writing when I went to Camp Bullis with my unit this past weekend. I had time to reflect on my writing as apposed to just writing what my imagination tells me. I looked more than listened and want to bring that description to life. The revised version is twice as long and in my opinion, much better.

Dreams can be quite strange , they can be good, bad or both. They can be your most amazing fantasy or be your worst nightmare, reflect what happened during your day or bring out your worst fears from the past. The strangest things about dreams is that they can be deceptive by giving you a truthful glimpse of what is to come. Dreams are strange indeed.
As David walked down the street with his thick leather boots and olive drab jacket, he had no emotion of any kind on his face. He just moved with a purpose. All was dark and quiet except for the little bit of liquid sloshing around in the gas can he had with him. The moon was dim but gave off just enough light for him to see his surroundings. There were no people around that he could see, the streets were empty, lifeless and silence was cold. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there though the neighborhood felt eerily familiar. Still, he didn’t let it bother him, he just kept on walking with the wind seemingly following him. The houses around him were abandoned and falling apart but not enough to conceal their former charm and composition. He could still tell that this was once a beautiful neighborhood that was full of life. The once white picket fences were now in disrepair, charred and broken, plants that had been vibrant were shriveled and dried up and dead, lawns once neatly manicured were spotted with overgrown weeds with trash and debris blowing around them.
When he came to the middle of the block he stopped and thew the near empty gas can at a house. Reaching into his pockets he pulled out a lighter and some crudely fashioned sticks wrapped in and oil soaked rags. David spoke under his breath, “It’s time to start anew.” Then without thought and still emotionless, he lit the rags on fire then threw them at the nearest house. Almost instantly the house took to the flame and spread up and down the street jumping from house to house following the trail of gasoline he had laid out.
David kept walking down the empty street, houses now ablaze, like nothing was wrong. Just watching the houses burn as if the neighborhood was still in it’s prime and covered in Christmas lights. This brought David comfort and somehow made him feel safer. He gave himself false memories of children that once played there, laughing and chasing each other up and down the street. Of people pulling into their driveway and waving at their neighbors. He thought of an old woman that took pride and loved working in her flower garden. He just wanted to picture that neighborhood they way it might have been. Continuing on, the fire from the burning houses lit up the sky with it’s orange glow, lighting his way through the night. Then something in one of the houses caught his attention, pulling him out of his daydream. He noticed some kind of movement coming from behind the flames. When he got a better look, his eyes widened as he saw the burning silhouettes running around erratically inside the inferno. David began to panic. He started waving his arms and running toward the burning figures trying to get their attention. He began shouting, screaming, calling for anyone who could hear him but something was different, something wasn’t right. As he shouted his voice was not there, instead only silence was emitted. His mouth was open but the only sounds were that of wood crackling in the fires.
He began looking around for anything to put out the fires and rescue the people inside until the burning figures fell out of sight. He tried to shield his eyes as the wind picked up. The road became covered in ash, blowing around in the breeze then falling to the ground like gentle snow. He thought to himself, How could the ash pile up this quickly? The gray powder was almost 5” high and coated his entire body. Wiping the soot from his eyes he was frightened and confuse when he was able to focus on what now lay on top of the accumulated dust. They were everywhere, bodies just scattered all around him. They weren’t here before, I know they weren’t. Where did they all come from? They looked as if they had been dead and decomposing for quite some time but oddly, they were not covered in ash like everything else on the street. It seemed as though they were just plucked from where they had died, unknown and left to rot, and placed there so lightly as not to disturb the ash. But how was the question he couldn’t answer. Questions ran through his mind and he began to wonder what happened to those people and why was he burning the houses.
Puzzled, David thought, Was there some kind of accident? Did they cause all this or did I?
One of the bodies started to twitch then began crawling towards David with great difficulty. The mans legs were completely paralyzed, just dead weight dangling behind a burnt torso. His arms were missing some flesh but still the man used them to inch closer and closer to David, reaching out towards him as if he were asking for help. As he ran over to see if he could help the injured crawling man, the figure just stopped moving and plopped down on the gray powdery road. Avoiding the burning debris that spread to the trees, he reached the man and flipped his body over only to see it was as lifeless as the rest. Suddenly the man’s eyes popped opened and locked with David’s. Then the man grabbed hold of David’s arm and spoke, “Only time can kill us David!” he was startled and jumped back, struggling to free himself from the man’s unyielding grip that only seemed to get tighter. The burnt man started laughing at David’s attempts to break free. As the fear and adrenaline rose in his blood he felt something different come over him, something cold and heartless. The emotion was drained from his face. He twisted the mans arm arm, grabbed his wrist and shoved his boot onto the bone on his exposed elbow. Staring at his face, he leaned forward putting more and more pressure until he heard a loud snap that vibrated up his own leg. The man let off a resounding shriek that resonated in his head causing his ears to bleed. The neighborhood began to quake violently sending David to the floor and he man’s scream continued to echo up and down the street. Suddenly, his voice returned a he could hear his own frightened cries, waking him from his dream.

He awoke screaming, panicked and covered in sweat with his heart pounding. “What the hell kind of dream was that?” he asked himself.

I Love Halloween

Scott loved Halloween very much. He remembered having such fun as a child with people in his neighborhood doing their best to frighten everyone with masks and haunted houses. But it was the jack-o-lanterns that brought it all together. That was the symbol for Halloween itself, what he thought was the greatest day of the year, and his was the only house in the neighborhood that didn’t have one. He started his search just the day before Halloween looking in pumpkin patches all over town, trying to find what would make the absolute perfect jack-o-lantern. Sadly, the day was coming to an end and his search for the perfect pumpkin was fruitless. He felt so beaten by this and began his journey home with his head hung. Then there it was on the side of the road, the perfect jack-o-lantern waiting to be made and place on his steps. He was overcome with joy as he brought it home and placed it in his kitchen, staring at it carving out what will be it’s new face in his mind. The perfect image came to him, it was the classic jack-o-lantern with the triangle eyes and nose and crude crescent mouth. That was the image that represented Halloween to him and that was what he was going to do. He went looking through his fathers old tools and found a keyhole saw, the perfect tool to carve the perfect jack-o-lantern. Sawing, sawing, sawing, he removed the top and started to hollow out the inside. Sawing, sawing, sawing, he carved out the triangles for the eyes and nose. Sawing, sawing, sawing, he carved out the jagged teeth and mouth. There it was, the perfect homage to Halloween, the perfect jack-o-lantern. Scott placed it on the steps leading up to his porch, placed the lit candle inside and then replaced the top of the poor woman’s skull, completing his perfect jack-o-lantern. He took a few steps back and with a smile from his childhood he said, “I love Halloween.”

Finally got #2 up

Finally got #2 live, as soon as I uploaded, Amazon was having problems with the publishing. This issue has the complete versions of Bone Deep, Family Eternal and Cruel Young. It also has When Light is Gone, something take control of an island leaving everyone in the dark, and Chuck, he’s a paranormal investigator but he does things a little different from the rest.

Family Eternal

This will be last story in V1 #2. It’s based on something my daughter told me when she was only two years old and it disturbed the hell out of me. She said, “Daddy, when I was six, my mommy broke all my bones and threw me in a dumpster.” I was shocked because that’s not something you would normally hear from a two year old and what got me more was that she had never even heard the word dumpster before. So how could she know what that was or that bones could be broken, i mean she was just learning how to count to ten. I don’t know what to believe about that but even though my daughter is much older and doesn’t remember anymore, it still bothers me. As with dreams that bring out emotion and stay with me, I figured I would make that into a short story too. Here is a part of it.

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Chelsea began having strange dreams that started on her sixteenth birthday. They were of a little boy that looked about eight or nine years old. He had a little trickle of blood that came down the side of his face and it seemed to come from a small fissure above his temple. He told her his name was Brandon and in her dreams, the two would always play at a beautiful park surrounded by trees and flowers, and there, next to a swing set was a picnic basket sitting in the middle of a quilted blanket. For weeks she had lucid dreams of nothing else but being at the park with Brandon and sometimes they would just talk.
One night, she decided to ask him what had happened to him and why was his head bleeding. A sadness came over Brandon’s face when he looked down and said, “My mommy, she pushed me down the stairs and then she put me in the trash can.” She was instantly taken to the top of a staircase and felt a hand push her from behind. Chelsea felt the pain of hitting each stair on the way down, then she was taken back to the park where she now understood what had happened to him. Feeling his anguish, she wanted to make him feel better so she smiled and grabbed his hand then said, “Hey, how about I push you on the swing for a little while.” His sorrow seemed to disappear and his smile that she had grown to love was back. When the sun would set there, in reality the sun was rising and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she awoke. “I’ll be waking up soon,” she told him, “but you know I’ll see you again.” He jumped off the swing, held her hand and looked up at her. “You are so nice Chelsea,” he said, “I want you to meet Hallie and Heather soon.” Becoming curious about them, she asked, “Oh really, are they your friends?” He replied, “They are my sisters.” Then he smiled again and wrapped his arms around her before stepping back and disappearing.
Chelsea awoke to mixed feelings about her dream. She was looking forward to meeting Brandon’s sisters but she was also very disturbed by what had happened to him. “Who could do something like that to their own kid?” she mumbled to herself.

Singing Thoughts

My name is Kevin Holt and hopefully I have found a way to die before this is read. I have no idea what I am but it must have something to do with my father, whoever he is or was. I can’t be around people, I can’t lead a normal life and I can’t die. My thoughts are dangerous and I just can’t seem to control them. The first incident that I can remember, happened when I was in high school. My writing teacher said I didn’t have an imagination and the first thought that came to mind was her breaking her leg. She tripped on the chair right in front of me and ended up with a compound fracture, she almost lost her leg. How’s that for imagination. She had it easy if you ask me, I never saw her again because she had to take medical leave and school would be out by the time she returned. I started to notice bad things happening to the people around me that just couldn’t be explained. I remember this one kid bumped into me then shoved me while we were walking down the stairs, like it was my fault. He was an asshole but still, I had never seen someone’s spine come out of their neck like that. And that was the problem, that’s what I was thinking when he fell down the stairs. The poor kid died instantly.
Things started getting weirder, like on the last day of school. I loved science, but not my teacher. Before the last bell rang he decided to do a little sendoff experiment that involved some kind of flammable soap bubbles. It might have turned out alright except he had to throw my name in there saying I could never be as bright as the flaming bubbles he had created. Well, needless to say, the students were sent off traumatized. The teacher caught on fire and his head inexplicably popped like one of the bubbles and showered the student in the front of the class with little burning chunks of Mr. Chambers. I know it’s bad but I still think that was kind of funny, well now that I’ve been desensitized to all this. Things got worse when two of my friends came over. We were talking about video games on minute and the next, a blue light passed through my room and splattered them against the wall. What was left of them was comparable to what you might find in a chum bucket. When the cops came, they had scoop them up into little Jake and Erick soup baggies. That’s when the real trouble for me began.
Of course I was taken in for questioning and they put me in this little white room without windows that had a camera up in the corner. They asked some pretty stupid questions like were we playing with explosives and planned on making a bomb or something. I got bored and imagined that the roof collapsed. The roof never came down but the officers that were in there were crushed by some kind of invisible force, it was terrifying to watch at the time. I can remember every snap, crackle and pop there bones made. I freaked out and ran home crying. My mom, she was great, she wasn’t worried that I just left a police station and had blood on me, no, she wanted to know why I was crying. When I tried to tell her, a random thought entered my mind, and my mother was cut in half. I panicked and tried to imagine her whole again but it wasn’t working, I even tried to push the pieces back together. The cops kicked down my door and they were pissed, they had their guns drawn and everything. The realization that I was the cause of all this got to me and I wanted to die. When I was ordered to lay on the ground, I instead lunged at them, figuring they were trigger happy thinking I somehow had the super strength it would take to crush the officers back at the station. I heard the loud bangs as they opened fire and welcome the rounds I took to the chest, but it wasn’t what I expected. They didn’t hurt as they entered my body, I felt the pressure but there was no burning, no stinging, no holy shit I have a big ass hole in my chest kind of pain. It was more like getting hit with a stream from a dollar store water gun. They looked at me like I was the devil, one of them screamed something and ran while the others kept barking orders at me. I don’t think they knew what the hell to do. They should have run off with the other guy because none of them made it. It started with a trickle of blood coming from their mouths, then led to coughing up gallons of blood. While they were coughing, a thought entered my mind, it was the saying, to cough up a lung. It was one of the grossest things I had ever witnessed. They started gagging then began to throw up random organs it seems. How the hell can you throw up your kidneys? I just wanted out of there before I started vomiting too. When I left the house I saw the officer that ran, hiding behind his car door with only his gun exposed. I had to start singing to keep my mind occupied long enough to get away from him, he survived by the way.
It became difficult to go shopping for food while I was on the run. One poor guy at a gas station sneezed and his head exploded, all I wanted was a microwave sandwich. I figured I deserved to starve to death and stopped eating for a while, again, nothing. I didn’t feel hunger anymore but missed the taste of food. I started thinking, this not being able to die thing just might have something to it. I made my way to the Grand Canyon and got to see sights that no one else has. When I was on the top of the canyon and wanted to see something at the bottom a little closer, I jumped. It felt great, for a while it felt like jumping out of a plane without a parachute, the rush, the thrill, without a doubt it was great. Then more and more tourists would show up and it became harder and harder to avoid them. Those around me took a vacation they never came back from. I remember I must have spent a whole month climbing then jumping, climbing then jumping, trying to punish myself for all that I have done.
The singing only helped so much but it was my thoughts that can’t be controlled. My only option was to go as far away from people as possible and I did just that. I moved to northern Canada where most couldn’t handle the cold and where I had no luck in freezing to death. On my way up there, I must have been hallucinating because I swear I saw zombies running around. I couldn’t be sure because as soon as they got close my thoughts ran wild and they were dog food. I don’t know how long I’ve been up here trying to isolate myself from the world, the sun rises and sets very differently way up here. I can’t tell from my reflection either because I stopped aging somewhere in my twenties. All I know is that I’ve been here for a very long time. It’s been getting warmer around here and I’ve been noticing houses being built in the woods where I stay. I do my best to avoid them but, they just keep popping up. Just the other day, I was exploring and there, at the edge of a cliff was an entire city. People are spreading out way too far for their own good so I decided to take a stroll through town and make sure my sanctuary stays preserved.

Cruel Young

Just a part of this story, the rest is part of Fate’s Darkened Beauty V1 #2

School can be a difficult time for some. Kids can and will be cruel to others but once school is over with and you’re out in the real world, none of the social life that once existed there matters any more. Annie Collins wasn’t one of the cool kids, she wasn’t popular and she didn’t have many friends. Actually she only had one, and she was moving away leaving Annie to face the popular kids by herself. As soon as she would get to school, her torment would begin with other kids knocking books out of her hands claiming it was an accident. Others would say she smelled bad and would pretend to gag, while others would just use her in there jokes. Annie learned to stay hidden and keep to herself for most of the time. She began to wear darker clothes and would often put her feeling down on paper rather than keep them bottled up inside her. She also fell in love with a cartoon called Taco the Rabbit’s Horrible Life. It was about a poorly drawn rabbit who just couldn’t seem to catch a break. Annie love Taco the Rabbit because no matter how bad her day would be, his day was always worse and his character would always make her laugh.
She had gotten a plush toy of him for her birthday over the summer and would always keep him in her backpack at school to remind her that things can always be worse. Sometimes, during lunch, she would pull him out and pretend that he was real to make up for her one friend that moved away. She learned very quickly not to talk to him out loud and draw attention because the popular girls could use that as another excuse to torture her. One day during lunch, Gracie Dice who was the worst of the popular girls, walked by and kicked Taco the Rabbit into some mud saying, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your stinky little friend there.” Gracie and her friends just laughed as she pushed Annie into the mud too while she was trying to retrieve Taco. “Oops!” Gracie said snickering, “Sorry again!” Annie tried not to cry, she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they got the best of her. She kept her chin up, wiped the mud from her face and went to the restroom to clean herself and Taco up.
She place Taco in the sink and turned on the water. Shedding as little tears as possible, she washed him off then placed on the counter to dry while she washed off her own face. Annie was startled when she heard a very polite monotone voice say, “That was rude of them wasn’t it?” She slowly removed her hands from her face to see her Taco plush shaking off the water like a dog. She slammed her back against the wall in fright saying, “Oh my fucking god, he’s talking to me. You’ve lost it this time Annie, you have completely lost your mind.” Taco hopped off of the counter and said, “You haven’t lost your mind Miss Annie, I’m quite real.” Still frightened she said, “Why the hell are you talking to me, you’re just a stuffed toy.” “Well,” he spoke as he approached her, “You can think of me as a familiar of sorts. My name is MAK TAH, it means servant of…, well for now, you.” Her fear began to subside when she said, “That’s cool, just give a minute to calm down here. So I have my very own talking Taco the Rabbit? Can I just call you Taco for now? You know, just until I get used to you.” “I don’t see this as being a problem Miss Annie,” he said, “I can see into people’s thoughts and this is the form you would be most comfortable seeing me in. I am here to help and serve you.” She excitedly shouted, “Awesome! I have a real Taco the Rabbit!” He touched her hand saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up now shall we.” All the mud that once covered her was instantly gone. “Come on now,” he said, “put me in your backpack and let’s get you to your next class.”
On her way to class, she couldn’t help but smile about what had just happened. While being lost and excited in her own thoughts, she didn’t see the group of girls heading towards her. Gracie slammed her shoulder in to Annie sending her flying to the floor. She looked down at Annie and with her hand over her mouth she said, “Oops again, I’m so clumsy today.” Then her sinister smile disappeared when she noticed that Annie was no longer covered in mud. “Well,” she said sounding as snobby as she was, “You seemed to have cleaned up nicely, but you’re still an ugly little bitch.” They put their noses in the air and walked around her. As she got back to her feet, one of the girls, Cindy, knocked the books out of her hands saying, “And you still smell too,” then she scoffed before joining the others. Annie collected her books and just under her breath, with her teeth clinched tight to fight off the tears, she said, “I fucking hate you all.” Then she hung her head and made her way to her next classroom.
When the final bell rang, she became excited. Not because she could go home and watch the show that always made her feel better but because she could play with the actual character she had hidden in her backpack. Upon her return home, she opened her backpack and placed him on her bed. “Well now,” he said, “that was quite uncomfortable. Let’s get to it shall we.” She turned her head to side and asked, “Get to what Taco?” “To planning your revenge to get back at them Miss Annie,” he said, “That is why I’m here, to help you.” “Ok, I’m in. Now how do we do this” she said eager to hear the plan. He walked over and sat next to her saying, “I can get in to peoples thoughts, like I did yours. I can see what they fear most and we can use that against them. From what I’ve seen, most fears come from something that happen during childhood. Take Cindy for example, the girl who knocked the books out of your hands, she is terrified of ants. She once fell into a large pile when she was seven and froze out of fear, they tore her up quite a bit before anyone got to her. We can use that against her.” “Ooh,” she said with wide eyes and delight, “We can lead a trail of ants into her room so when she wakes up she will see them crawling everywhere.” “Yes Miss Annie, something like that.” Later that night, Annie and Taco when to Cindy’s house and began leaving crumbs of food leading from an ant pile in the yard to a tiny crack in her window. When everything was in place, Annie kicked the ant pile and ran home. “Oh my god!” she said smiling, “I can’t believe we did it! She is going to be so scared when she wakes up, she’ll probably pee herself. I wish I could see her face when it happens.” Back at Annie’s house, as excited as she was, it was getting late and she was getting tired. She made her bed and set up a place next to her pillow for Taco. “Goodnight Taco,” she said, “you made today awesome.” After about an hour, Taco made sure she was asleep then slipped out of the house.
Morning arrived and a groggy Cindy began to wake. She felt a slight pain in her right foot, only enough to make her wiggle her toes. “That’s weird,” she thought to herself, “my toes are numb”. She paid it no attention until she removed her blanket. She was in such a shock that she couldn’t even scream, just a deep tone sounded at the end of every exhale. Half of her foot was missing and there was very thin layer of a clear plastic like membrane covering the wound. Where her big toe should have been, was an ant trail leading inside of her foot. The pain began to set, she could feel them crawling inside her leg as far up as her thigh. Still she could not scream. Cindy finally passed out when she saw the ants carrying eggs into her body. Her mother found her and called for an ambulance, when they got to the hospital, she was in and out of sleep from the combination of shock and the drugs the doctors had her on. Cindy could hear her mother arguing with the doctor. “Look you son of bitch,” her mother said, “You better save her leg. You have any idea how important we are to this town.” “Yes ma’am, I’m sorry,” the doctor said groveling, “But the ants have blocked up and destroyed the blood supply to her leg. All of the tissue is dead or will be before we could even operate on her. There was a queen already laying new eggs in there, the leg has to come off.” “Fine! Take the leg! How could this have even happened?” “I don’t know ma’am,” he replied, “The tunnels they built should have taken them days, not to mention there was no blood loss. I don’t even think it’s possible. And there’s something else.” “Oh what now!” exclaimed the mother. “These ants had some sort of bacteria on them that has entered Cindy’s blood stream. We have her on antibiotics but, well, even if with amputation of the leg, there’s a strong chance she might not make it.” Cindy pass out again.
Annie went to school with her head held high and a big grin on her face in anticipation of seeing Cindy’s reaction to the prank, …..

Purrsia

Angela was a very warmhearted person, so it was no surprise to how sympathetic she was when she saw an injured cat on her lawn. She took the cat inside, cleaned him up and made a bed for him. She even made a trip to the store to buy cat food, treats and a litter box. The long-haired gray cat purred loudly when she entered the door as if he knew he would be well taken care of. She put some canned food into a dish for him and watched him eat for a while, wondering what had happened to this poor cat. He was limping but his leg didn’t seem to be broken and before she cleaned him up, some of his fur was encrusted with dried blood although she never found any cuts or open wounds on him. When the cat finished eating, he jumped on her lap and began purring very loud as she stroked his fur. “You need a name little guy,” she said, “I think I’ll call you Purrsia because you purr so much.” As if to acknowledge the name, he looked at Angela and closed his eyes for a moment.
When her boyfriend, Nick and his friend Gabe, arrived home, they immediately took notice of the cat. “Um, what is that?” Nick asked her. She smile and replied, “It’s my new cat, his name is Purrsia! Please can I keep him, I found him outside hurt so I brought him in. He won’t be any trouble I promise.” Nick gave her an unsure look then said, “Well, I guess it’s alright as long as he doesn’t jump on the table or shelves or anything. And don’t expect me to clean up after it, me and Gabe do enough at work already.” She excitedly clapped her hands and shouted, “Yay! Did you hear that kitty? You get to stay!”
A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and Angela answered. It was an older man with wild looking gray hair who had papers in his hand. “Can I help you?” she asked him. His smile revealed stained, yellow teeth then he spoke, “Yes, you see I’m looking for my cat.” He then handed her a flyer and continued, “He has long gray fur and a very bad temper. He might have been hurt. Have you seen him?” She grew a little concerned feeling that he was talking about Purrsia but the cat didn’t seem to have a bad temper, though he was hurt when she found him. Before she was going to reveal she had found him she wanted to be sure so she asked him, “Well, do you know how he could have gotten hurt?” “Why yes of course,” he replied still smiling, “I tried to kill him.” She was shocked by his answer. “Wait, what!? Why would you? No, you know what. Your sick and if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police!” she said, then slammed the door and locked it. Nick and Gabe went to see what the commotion was all about. “What happened, who was that?” Nick asked. Flustered, she said, “It was no one, just some creepy old asshole that said he wants to kill Purrsia.” Gabe was confused but always looking for a fight so he ran outside to start an argument with the man but he was gone.

My Dear Friends

This is a little different from what I write but when it popped in my head, I just had to tell her story. Fictional of course.

I remember being 11 years old and we had just moved into an old manor out in the country. I had never seen such a big house on so much land before. I think it was left to us when my grandfather died, though I don’t remember being sad about it because the first time I ever saw him was at his funeral. My brother and I had a fight over who would get the room overlooking the pond in the back of the manor but there were so many rooms that I just let him have it and went to a new one. When I found one I liked, he came in and started moving his toys to my room claiming it was his. This happened for about three or four rooms until I finally had to tell mother about what he was doing and I ended up with the room with a view of the pond. I remember it being so beautiful. Before I could unpack there was a knock at my door, it was my brother. I thought he was there to start up again but instead he asked me if I wanted to play hide and seek. Of course in a place that big it was begging to be explored with a game. There were so many doors, passage ways and rooms that I didn’t know where to begin so I started with the basement. Even down there was a door leading to another room below another room. I was so excited thinking that he would never find me way down there but he did. The last words I heard were from his voice saying, “Now I can have whatever room I want and no one will ever find you down here!” Then I heard a door shut and lock followed by another door and another further in the distance. I must have been down there for days, hiding from the monsters that waited for me in the shadows. My mind did create some very inventive creatures for me to fear but I had my friends the rats and roaches to protect me. At least they were my friends until I became so weak from hunger.
Over time I was no longer afraid of the shadows. In the darkness, my mind began to see old friends and after a while, new and fantastic ones appeared. They were always there for me and we would play and play. I remember one day all of my friends were gone and I couldn’t understand why. Then my stomach began to cramp, I was alone for days until I began to bleed. I thought I was going to die and had no idea what was wrong with me. After a few days, the bleeding had stopped and all pain went away. I felt such relief, I felt even better when all of my wonderful friends came back to stay with me. They told me that when I’m scared so are they and if I have no fears, they will never leave me again. I was so happy and we all once again played and played until I began to hurt again. I was not afraid, I began to bleed again but I was still not afraid because if I did die, I would die happy with my friends. The pain and bleeding seemed to happen in a crude pattern that became my way of telling time in the darkness. We would prepare a feast in celebration of every time the pain stopped. We would have rats and roaches, and spiders on occasion but I just couldn’t bare to eat any of the beetles we found, they leave such a horrid taste in your mouth. Yes, we had such fun together, my fantastic friends and I. Before I was discovered down there, I believe we had over 300 celebrations and with each one we carved a line into the walls.
I learned that everyone thought I was dead but I was far from it. The police said that my brother told them I went off into the woods and never came back. Oh that retched brother of mine, they say he went mad and ended up in an asylum somewhere. And my mother, my poor mother had passed away. I would have ended up alone all those years had I not gone into the sub-basement. My friends told me that if I left, they could not come with me but would do their best to carry on the celebrations in my honor, such great friends they are.
I looked in the mirror today for the first time and did not recognize the woman in my reflection, perhaps there is just too much light up here for my eyes to handle. Now that I own everything, perhaps I shall return to live with my friends, after all, I was happy with them. And I don’t quite like it up here, there are too many people making too much noise and there is far too much light for me. No, I think I shall return to what I know and to the friends that I love and miss so much.

Viotta

She had never been this excited or nervous at the same time, it was her wedding day. She had the perfect dress, rented the perfect hall and would soon have the perfect husband. As she looked in the mirror touching up her makeup, she was reminded of her parent’s objection to the wedding. They loved Mike and wanted him live at their house with Viotta, they even offered to rent them their own house as long as they just lived together and not get married. Viotta could not understand what the problem with getting married was and was still feeling hurt by the fact that her parents said they would not be attending her ceremony. “Come on girl,” she said to her reflection, “today is going to be the best day of your life and nothing is going to ruin it.”
The wedding ceremony was just absolutely flawless. All of her friends were there, all of Mike’s friends were there. Everyone was getting along and having the best time of their lives. No expense was spared, from the decorations to the many live bands that played not to mention the food and drinks, the many, many drinks. Five years of struggling and saving up for the greatest night ever was worth it.
At the reception party, where the real fun began, Viotta wanted to play a little girls only drinking game so Mike had to search for his own fun. “Come here my husband,” she said throwing her arms around him, “me and the girls are gonna play for a little bit so why don’t you go find Sean and hang out with him for a bit, then later on I’m all yours my love.” He smiled, gave her a kiss and said, “I love you girl, don’t you get too drunk and pass out me now. You hear me girls? I’m counting on you to keep her sober-ish.” Still smiling he went off in search of his best man Sean.
He finally found him in the men’s restroom relieving himself at a urinal and figured while he was there maybe he should empty his tank as well. “Hey Sean,” Mike said while unzipping, “You having fun?” He replied, “Hell yeah, I got so many numbers these girls won’t know what hit them. Hey man, Viotta’s looking hot in that tight black dress, I’m just saying.” “She’s my wife now,” Mike said, “and that my friend is one of the many reasons I married her.” They finished their business and went to the bar for another drink. “Hey uh Mike,” Sean questioned curiously, “You know there’s only one security guard here right? Well, what do say to exploring the other floors a little.” “Viotta is having fun with her friends, everybody is having a good time, why the hell not.” They clinked their glasses together and headed for the staircase.
When they got to the second floor, they learned they weren’t the only ones that strayed from the party going on beneath them. The upstairs hall was broken up into smaller rooms for smaller gatherings but the owners didn’t count on Viotta and Mike’s friends breaking into them and having parties of their own. Mike was in awe, “Shit! I’m gonna have to pay for all this.” Not letting that bother him too much he yelled out, “ENJOY THE ROOMS, assholes,” then continued exploring with Sean drinks in hand. After exploring enough of the second floor, they decided to go to the top and see what was on the third floor.