Tuesday, August 9, 2011

More Real Than Reality Pt 5

**Well I messed up and posted two sections in one post. So, here is Pt 5 the finale of More Real than Reality.**

Sept. 20th - Present day (My Experience)
After Darius had visited with his doctor I read the notes and saw that Darius had given up and was ready to die. It pained me so much to read those words and I determined I would visit him that night for the first time as myself. After hours I sneaked in using my clearance cards and did not meet with any problems on my way in. Since, it was after hours I could not check out any medications without drawing attention to myself. Upon entering the room he saw me and was stricken with fear. I allowed my hair to go down hoping he would recognize me. The closer I drew the more fearful he looked. But I couldn't stand being away from him any longer and I wrapped my arms around him holding him close.
“Wake up my love.” I whispered into his ear desperately.
I felt warm fluid flowing onto my arms. I looked down and found myself covered in his blood. Startled I stood up and jumped back a step. He fell over unable to support his own shriveled torso. All disgust I felt left me as I dove to catch him. I pulled him up and he began to bleed from every place that I touched, as if my touch was tearing him flesh. The blood just keeps pouring out and the look of terror was still covering the face of my lover. He looked up and his eyes opened as if just waking up. He looked into my eyes, but the horror remained. His cracked and chapped lips voiced one faint and final complaint that haunts me to this day, “It was all a dream?” His eyes glazed over once more, but now they contained no life. His body was covered in blood yet contained no wounds. As if he was mauled to death by my tender touches. Taking Darius' journal I fled the facility weeping and was hardly able to compose myself at the check points on my way out.
Dawn came and I arrived for my scheduled shift, playing oblivious. By this time they were already preparing to take him away to the morgue. I worked my way to the loading area and was stopped by armed soldiers. There I saw the reporter being interrogated by an officer holding out a recorder, it looked like he was yelling. I knew it had information on Darius and I wanted it terribly. I heard a scream from the dock. I noticed that all the soldiers looked obviously nervous. They all went to attention as one began to walk towards the door to check the noise. There was a gunshot and then another scream. As the soldier slowly opened the door a bloody figure dove onto him pushing him to the floor. The figure ripped out the soldiers neck with its teeth. It was then that I realized the figure used to be my love. It's skin was a sickly shade of green and the eyes were milky white. There was a bloody hole in it's chest, yet it didn't bleed. Suddenly the entire facility seemed to burst into action. No one fired because of their allies that were in the throng. The moan filled the room as they began to beat the body of my lover. Hardly able to pull my eyes away I formulated a plan. Since, everyone was distracted I went and got the tapes that were on the table in front of the handcuffed reporter. I merely said that his story would be heard as I passed her. I looked into the other room to see that the door was opened again this time two other bloody figures that were wearing bio-hazard suits were coming through. They fell upon the closest of soldiers that were beating the body of my lover. I no longer heard Darius' unique groan. I knew he must finally be at rest. I made my way out of the facility and took off. I was a thief they would connect me to Darius' death and I was terrified that I was witnessing the end of the world.
Things got really bad fast. Over half of the near two hundred other cases went as badly as Darius' and the disease spread. Shortly after things got real bad here in the states, an international anti-American terrorist group claimed responsibility, but also claimed they had warned the US government on how to deal with the situation and that it was our arrogance that had caused our current situation. They had miscalculated though because their lesson became a pandemic. And by the first anniversary of Darius' turn half the world was infected. By the second anniversary they were no longer making any statistics on the pandemic. And now on the third anniversary I write his memoir on a mountain refuge overlooking a writhing sea of flesh. I don't know the story of the other two hundred that were unwitting pawns in this game of hate, but I know his for in his life I was his lover, his healer, and his death.

Monday, August 8, 2011

More Real Than Reality Pt 4

September 21st (The Recorded Reports of Kristine Stenger)
“Darius Shackles was found dead this morning in his cell. According to my informant he was smiling. His eyes were wide with pain and fear and he had blood all over him. All the blood was his, yet he had no open wounds. It appeared that he bled out from his pores except they formed patterns like cuts and tears. After looking into insanity related cases, where the person had been abducted in the last month, I found that there have been nearly two hundred nation wide. The government has tried to keep it under warps, but I have found evidence from local sources at 12 of the locations that the government has had a hand in the case. I don't know what is going on, but I fear it is some kind of terrorist attack, possible some form of biological warfare.” her voice is frightened, for once she sounds like she has bitten off more than she wants.
There is silence for several seconds. “I was told that Darius' body will be shipped to a morgue where the reason for his death can be identified and he will then be incinerated most likely. There is a bio-safety dome set up around the ambulance dock where it is assumed he will be transported from.” she is interrupted by a stern voice.
“What are you doing here, give me some identification?” the rigid voice sounds of military origin.
“I'm sorry I was just leaving. I just finished visiting my father, I like to record our conversations.” she isn't a very good liar and it is evident by pauses and cracks in he voice as she attempts to weave her tale.
There is a scuffle against the microphone. “I'll take that and I'm going to have to take any cassettes you have with you. And then we'll take you in to be processed.” his voice did not crack once, nor did it slow. It was robotic, and rehearsed sounding.
The recorder is shut off and is the last of the information on Darius Shackles. Now I will tell you the rest of his story as well as the connections that are made to his past.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

More Real Than Reality Pt 3

September 20th (The Journal of Darius Shackles)
I can barely sit up today; the groans are closing in on my position. I fear that I will be eaten before I die. I know that the day I die I'll become one of them; I just hope that I'll be rescued before that day comes. I've lost all hope of that happening now. I don't even have the strength to take my own life. I will become one of them it is inevitable there is nothing I can do about it. My senses lie to me at every turn all I can smell is berries and honey. I see flashes of her looking into my eyes like she used to in my dreams. I fear that it is my life passing before my eyes.
Its hard to write, but I'm compelled to write. I want to believe I'm dreaming like the people in my dreams tell me. Like today when this doctor came to me and we had this conversation. This is why I’m writing this entry. He was trying to explain what reality is. For the benefit of everyone else I wish that he was right.
The door flew open as usual and there stood the wretched beasts there were three this time. I was too weak to be frightened and shrink away. So, I simply waited for the dream to take over, or to die. The dream took over and I opened my eyes looking up at golden locks.
“He's awake doctor. Are you sure you want us to leave the room, he can be quite dangerous?” Her voice was cherubic it comforted me. I still needed her, but felt too weak to do anything.
“Yes, yes I'm completely sure. Go on you two; you're only making him uncomfortable.” His voice was strong it reminded me of my father. I suppose it was part of my subconscious trying to right the things of my past.
“Father, is that you? I need to tell you why I left? I'm not going to be here much longer, I'll return to reality soon and I want to set my heart straight.” I tried to force the answer I wanted so badly, but I never could control my dreams, very well.
“I am not your father, but I'm here to bring you back to reality. If setting your heart straight is what you need bare your soul to me, Darius.” his tone was fatherly, I couldn't imagine why I did these things to myself.
“I still miss mother. It’s been twenty years and I never forgave you for moving on. I just wanted to tell you I love you and I forgive you.” I chuckled weakly to keep back the tears; I was just too weak to cry. “I even found me a girl just like mom. You'd have liked her, but she's dead now just like you.” I talked to him like he was my father. It was a release that I had not known for what seems like ages.
“They are not dead. I am sure of this, everything you think is real is only a dream and to defeat that dream we must get you to accept that it is not reality.” the doctor seemed disturbed by my condition he kept looking over my decrepit frame. These dreams no longer offered a release from my physical condition.
“Then it is more real than reality, and my only hope is that I am insane. I pray that what has happened to the world was only a dream. That I would awake looking into eyes I once loathed. That the sky would open up beautiful and blue once more, but you are a dream and the world has died. It has withered to dust and the flesh of man is now denied life by the warm embrace of death. The flesh then awakes and hungers. It walks the earth consuming working to bring forth our inevitable extinction, while multiplying its wretched numbers beyond mankind's darkest fears. That, doctor is reality and you are a dream, now leave me. I can't stand the false hope that these dreams bring. Since, the only hope left for me is death and your false hope pains me more than the starvation.” I turned away as best I could, but did not have the strength to it. I could only turn a small amount and look away the best I could.
Out of the corner of my eye I could still see him look at me hopelessly. He then knocked on the door to call for his release. “I'm sorry that you have lost hope, but we're going to work on reversing that tomorrow.” The door opens and he walks out head hung low in defeat.
I awake to a room filled with my own refuse and a world filled with the refuse of God. I can write no longer if this is my last entry I am most likely dead.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

More Real Than Reality Pt 2

Sept. 14th (From the Recorded Reports of Kristine Stenger)
“I am here at the mall where Darius Shackles, a simple security guard at a local retail store, has attempted to murder a 75 year old woman, who I've been unable to get an identity on at this time. I am now going to interview several witnesses to find out what I can about this attack.” Kristine's voice is soft and disarming, but the way she says those words makes it obvious that she is a reporter and her only interest is in the story, not the event.
There is a plethora of background noises consisting of sirens, screams, and the general murmur that can be heard whenever people crowd into a small area. Her footsteps can hardly be heard over the rabble as she makes her way across the lobby. There is also the generic mall music playing in the background giving this melancholy recording a cheerful soundtrack.
“Were you a witness of today's horrible attack?” Kristine asks with an inviting and disarming voice.
“Yeah, I saw that crazy son of a bitch. You some kind of reporter or something?” inquires a man with a coarse southern accent.
“Yes, I’m reporting on this attack and trying to find out what could have caused that man to attack that poor elderly woman.” Kristine replies in an easy explicative tone.
“I can't tell you why someone would do such a thing. I just know he got one of them crazy looks on his face when he done it. Looked like he was more scared than angry at that old bag he tried to kill.” the man's voice is more serious while describing the attack.
“Sounds like you believe he was defending himself. Do you not think he was attacking the woman? That he was in fact defending himself or at least believed he was?” Kristine's voice has an excited edge to it that slowly replaces her formerly subjective undertone.
“Don't know just saw he was scared senseless. He screamed like a poor defenseless animal as they tore him off her. He flailed and screamed, though it did look like he was trying to get away, to flee, not to fight. I got to go home lady are you done yet?” his voice is no longer open and lighthearted. Its obvious he is ready to be done with this interview.
“Oh yes, thank you so ever much, mister?” Kristine says in a somewhat disappointed voice.
“Buck Daniels doll, and what might yours be? I'd like to know who interrogated me,” he says with a slight return of his earlier joviality.
“I'm Kristine Stenger. Thanks again for your time; I won't hold you up any longer.” Kristine nearly cuts herself off as her footsteps lead her to the sound of a two-way radio. “Excuse me officer... Andrews, I'm Kristine Stenger with the Explorative News and I'd like to ask you a few questions concerning today’s attack,” the inviting tone returning to her voice with a hint of disarming femininity.
“What sort of questioning is there? The guy went nuts and attacked the poor old woman, which led to some mall patrons tearing him off her, just before he could bash her brains across the floor. They then called 911 and we came here to detain him, case closed. There is no story here, go home.” The tone of his voice reveals he has no taste for reporters, no matter how alluring they attempt to be.
“Can you answer just a few questions?” there is a short silence and she then proceeds with her questioning. “Can you tell me, will the victim be pressing charges? And where has the attacker been sent?” Her tone is a little more forceful than usual; she is obviously trying a different tactic in getting answers from this man, than from the other.
“We have not received any information about if she will or will not, but it is assumed she will. Concerning the attacker he has been sent to the courthouse to be detained and processed.” He is obviously annoyed by the underlying anger in his bass voice. He immediately walks away after answering the questions footsteps that sounded more akin to a flight than an angry trudge.
“I'm now going to try and find out what's going on with the attacker Darius Shackles at the courthouse.”
There is no further entry on this cassette tape. It appears that the cassettes that come between the 14th and 19th have been lost or destroyed. I will now enter the contents of the next cassette in the timeline.
Sept 18th
“I have done more research into Darius Shackles and found that nearly a month ago his girlfriend filed a missing persons report and then recalled it approximately fifteen hours later. The police said that upon checking Darius out that it was obvious he had had some sort of injections, but was in perfect health. Blood tests revealed no harmful or even noticeable alien chemicals, only that he had been using illegal narcotics. His girlfriend denies these claims and they figured it easier to ignore at the time. Also, Darius had no memory of his abduction and denies it still. The woman he attacked never pressed charges and the police were forced to stop all investigations, by the government. The government team has placed Darius into a special psychiatric hospital. It seems the deeper I search the more questions I get without answer. I'm hoping to find some and am blackmailing one of the attendants of Darius to leave him with a pencil and paper, in attempt to get him to write down the truth in his delirium,” she stops for a moment. “My inside man just got off and is heading towards his car. I'm going to question him about today’s encounter.”
The wind blows against the microphone and causes ear piercing static that barely allows one to hear her heels crack down against the asphalt as she quickly makes her way to the informant’s car.
“What are you doing here? You can't come to my work like this, or our arrangements might have to be cut short,” came the weak voice of a man, presumably Kristine's informant. The weakness in his voice has a hint of apprehension to it.
“I just want to make sure you delivered the paper and pencil. Also, I'd like to know how he was acting today.” she speaks with confidence expecting answers. Somehow she owns this man and her voice shows it.
“I did just as you asked. And he is behaving even worse and is in increasingly bad health it is as if he is starving to death. He has become so detached from reality that he attempted to rape the other nurse today.” he has a hint of disgust in his voice. Most likely resentment since he is being forced to entertain this questioning.
“He tried to rape her, the one that you gave a job so that she would have sex with you? What did he do, what did he say? You must be very detailed I need to know everything.” she seems excited and not in the least bit appalled by Darius' actions.
“Yes, her,” his voice betrays him and it is obvious that this is the subject f her blackmail and why she has utter possession of him. “He was perfectly calm; the meds had just kicked in. We were attempting to question him, but he was being unresponsive. Then suddenly he sprung up wrapping his arms around her waist tightly pulling her into his lips and roughly handling her body,” he stops for a moment probably composing himself. His voice cracks often as though he may cry or burst out in anger at any minute. “She wanted to resist, but beyond pushing him away she was unable to for some reason, probably the shock. I went for another tranquilizer, while he just kept saying, “Stop resisting this is a dream,” he said it over and over; I almost started to believe him. He seemed entirely convinced himself. Eventually I was able to remove him after injecting a second tranquilizer. The poor devil just slumped to the floor and we left him, after I put the pencil and paper in the corner of course. All the while, the nurse remained completely composed that frightened me. Is my account thorough enough?” he sounds more upset than annoyed now. He is scarcely able to keep his voice in check and the anger that is bubbling forth with each word makes one fear he may lash out at any moment.
“Yes, that should be sufficient. Thanks again and don't worry once you've finished your side of the bargain, everything will be forgotten concerning your lack of professionalism.” Kristine sounds excited and yet manipulative as she says those reassuring words, the recorder is shut off.

Friday, August 5, 2011

More Real than Reality

**Here is a story I wrote for my creative writing class in 2008. It will be told in 6 posts since it is around 5000 words long. Enjoy!**

September 19th (The Journal of Darius Shackles)
The rot surrounds me, groans and screams breeding a chorus of death. Four walls are the only thing that separates my life, from the death all around. I am a small pocket of life that is slowly withering away into nothingness. I am starving and my end draws near. I realize that all men must have a desire to write about their lives when this time comes. Five days ago is when my life became complicated.
I woke up with her looking into my eyes it was morning, a dawn like any other. Her golden locks were spread across the pillow and they tickled my nose. Those locks carried her scent to me a mix of berries and honey. Her smile reminded me of home when my mother would give me a birthday present or when she would tell me she loved me. It was familiar I liked it for that reason. I knew I didn't love her, but it was easier to be with her than not to.
“I love you Darius. Did you sleep well?” Her voice was sweet and childlike. I found it comforting, but not attractive.
“I love you, too. I slept well, how about you?” I faked a smile and left her name out. For some reason that made it feel like less of a lie.
“I slept well, and it became even better when I saw you this morning.” She was cute admittedly it wasn't bad to be treated that way by her. To be the center of her world, but it didn't make me happy. Nothing really made me happy. I was in a rut life was mundane and she was mundane.
Getting dressed for our shopping trip, my attention was caught when an ambulance sped by the house. I could hear screaming down the street, the news said that some sort of virus was spreading. Other than being highly contagious there was little reliable information. Even blogs and other on-line sources were vague at best. I knew that this disease was limited to third world countries, which left nothing for American suburbia to worry about. Thus, rationality disregarded any fear I had had.
We went to the mall shopping for her mother's birthday present. We did this every year, but unlike every year the smell of death filled the mall. The scent, peaked my attention. While, I was looking for the source of the putrid smell my eyes where led to something stumbling across the lobby with this trail of blood that was both attached to it and following it like a parade of death. The eyes were white and empty, the teeth blood stained, and flesh that was green and wrinkled reminding one of a crunched piece of leather. The creature stumbled towards me. I knew what it was I'd seen the movies and the only way to kill it was to bash its head in. I got on top of what had once been an old hag and prepared to crush her skull; she groaned and snapped at me. Before I could finish my downward swing I was surrounded by them, they were clawing at me and they started to carry me away. I couldn't understand why they weren't devouring me. My head was pounding and it caused me to black out, for how long I don't know. I awoke and found myself in this refuge, my self inflicted prison. Somehow I must have gotten away and then locked myself inside this place for shelter and protection. It like what was happening didn't make any sense; but there seems to be no other way that I would come to find myself inside this place alive. I couldn’t get out I was trapped.
Five days have passed and still I am inside this place unable to get out and certain that death in here is better than out there. A sharp scream pierces the groan filled air. One by one death is coming to our holes and is digging us out like the frightened vermin we are. The groaning hasn't stopped for the entire time; I've been hidden in this place. It’s a gurgling moan that fills the air from every direction; it follows the screams, it haunts me in my dreams. Though the groaning is a constant my mind is unable to block it out. In consciousness there is no reprieve from the mournful cries. Just like the dead have no reprieve from their hunger.
I found that I am able to dream a few times a day. Like clockwork I dream of them surrounding me and trying to devour me. I recoil and scream for mercy from God for I know there is no mercy from them. I open my eyes and instead of the dead I am surrounded by doctors. In this dream trance they tell me I'm insane and that they are trying to make me better. It’s funny that of all the things to dream about I'd dream that everyone, but me was alright. I suppose it must be a part of a subconscious guilt for leaving my girlfriend in the mall, for allowing her to be eaten by them.
Yesterday, I had decided to take control of this dream and take advantage of the respite that it gives my mind. It was probably around mid-day and the brutes broke into my cell groaning and snapping at me like always. Then a needle was slid into my skin and the next thing I know I'm eating and there are a normal man and woman in the cell.
The woman was a petite little tart with this perfume that smelled like berries and honey. There was nothing overly special about her. She was average height, little to no curvature; thanks to her petite figure. She reminded me of normality; a novel idea that I thought no longer existed. That thought made me want her more than breath.
“Do we look like monsters to you Mr. Shackles?” She said in this annoying childlike voice. She must think me an invalid. I didn't know my subconscious was so overly critical.
“No, you don't. I think I want to fuck you. Does that sound like something you'd like?” I looked for a reaction on her face. She seemed surprised, but not entirely against my decision. This reassured me of my dream state.
“Mr. Shackles that was inappropriate. We can't help you if you aren't willing to cooperate with us,” was the shocked reply of the beady eyed man who was with the woman. He, I did not concern myself with.
“You didn't answer my question. I'm going to have to take that as a yes.” I said attempting suave confidence, which seemed successful in getting women naked, at least according to television. I suppose it wasn’t that convincing though, since she wasn't all over me as expected.
I decided to take initiative and grabbed her waist. With all my strength I pulled her in and started forcing kisses onto her neck. She tasted familiar I wanted her even more. But she was resisting, though it seemed more like a not now fight than a no stop. To reassure myself I kept saying, “Stop resisting this is only a dream,” in attempt to get my subconscious to stop her resisting, but she resisted all the more. They inserted another needle into me.
I awake to find it the morning of my fifth day in this cell, and since I've had food. I'm hoping that the government will show up and fix everything. Like my body, hope has grown weak over these long excruciating days. I fear that I will not make it to the end of this disaster. I hope to have strength to write more tomorrow. The hunger has me so weak that if this is my last entry I can only hope that it is because I was rescued.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Living with a dragon.

Once upon a time a woman lived in a castle. This woman was neither extremely beautiful nor was she hideous and grotesque. She was just average. She had black hair but it wasn't so dark that it shone. She was slightly over weight, but as far a medieval society is concerned I suppose she was thin. She was not curvacious and nothing about her screamed supple. Yet, that did not matter because she lived in a castle and it was guarded by a dragon. She knew no knights would come. No one wanted to save a non-princess that was only average in appearance.
So, she spent her days cleaning up after the dragon and tending her small garden. Sometimes when she was feeling adventurous she would escape and see how long it took the dragon to capture her. She knew that it was useless he always captured her, but it was fun none the less since he never hurt her in any way.
It was hard work though, living with a dragon that is. He always left his food lying around. Never cleaned or tidied. His hordes of riches were always dusty. So, she had her work cut out for her.
Well one day while cleaning his riches the dragon was snoring quite loudly. She went to roll him over in order to stop the snoring but mid-turn she slipped and fell. The dragon fell back into place right on top of her head crushing it.
And that is why you must always ensure you wear slip resistance tennis shoes. 'Cause you never know.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Holy One

I had a third dream that takes my breath away even now.
On a bridge I walked.
It seemed like it was endless as I could not see either end.
Looking down to the depths below a glowing redness was obscured by a terrible mist.
On this path that I knew not the beginning nor the end I saw that I was not alone.
There were other souls walking ahead without notice of one another.
Their eyes were glossed over as if under a spell.
I then looked up above me to see the clearest sky.
It shone with the brilliance of dawn but it was perpetual and touched each corner of the sky.
The bridges construction was unknown to me.
It appeared to be made of a metal that consisted of a luminescent gray.
There were no supports in sight.
It had no rails, and was about as wide as a river.
There were curves in it.
It wound through the sky like a snake.
Seeing its side I saw that it was no more than a hand's width thick.
It had to be supported at the ends, I concluded.
I continued to walk hoping to reach the end and seek out answers concerning this marvel.
I then heard the first scream as my thoughts turned outward.
All around me the sleep walkers awoke.
And as they awoke they were suddenly jerked off the bridge down to the depths below.
A smoke began to fill the air as more and more souls were torn into its depths.
I finally took notice after what seemed hours that I was totally alone.
The bridge was empty.
And so I walked.
I know not how long I walked.
It seemed an eternity.
Finally I glimpsed it.
The end of the bridge.
I was overpowered by fatigue and had to sit.
As I sat a man appeared at my side.
His face was kindly but inhuman.
Not that it was grotesque but in fact it was too pristine.
Then his voice reached my ears no more than a whisper yet melodic like the sweetest sound.
"Why have you arrived alone?" he asked me, his eyes were now quite sad.
"I gave you all the tools you needed to bring the whole world here. You are unworthy of your station."
I then fell to my face kissing his feet, but he was no longer there.
In fact I was the one moved.
Standing up I felt the pain of a thousand needles.
The air itself was like razors that cut me with every breath.
There was seemly no temperature yet I found that too be the most uncomfortable aspect of it.
Soon I felt despaired and realized I was in the red place.
I was below the bridge.
I had failed the journey.
A hunger began to grow in my stomach and I decided to search out food.
I noticed a forest not far away and began to walk towards it.
The whisper then reached me even here, "What of your hunger? Your thirst? Why do you who ignored the needs of others deserve to feast and drink?"
The forest was then replaced with an endless red desert.
I then noticed a rising sun and a heat began to come over me greater than I had ever known before.
My eyes caught sight of some crags that would offer shade.
Walking towards them his voice returned yet again, "Comforts and pleasures were offered to you a plenty. Yet, you never offered them to others you never spread the words."
The crags were gone and I was left alone.
The desert spread in every direction and the heat stifled the processes of my mind.
Finally in a stupefied exhaustion I yelled to the winds, "What are the words I should spread?"
When I awoke my bed was drenched in sweat and stained red with a sand like material.
In my hand I held a scroll.
I cracked it open to see on it were written words of great power and guidance.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

The Great War

I had another dream. But I know not from whence it came.
I was in the Great War fighting along side my brothers.
I was not a child but a man. Full grown and battle weary.
Our base was set up in a little village that had greeted us with open arms.
They sang our praises and called us their saviors from the enemy.
As I walked through soot stained streets where blood and ash mixed in the muddy waters.
I saw the dead stacked up in burning mounds that stank and stung the eyes.
At the end of the avenue I came to our palace.
We had taken the enemy's lair as our base of operations.
But as I got closer I began to notice a sound.
Not just a sound but many noises accosted my ears.
I soon realized they were screams and wails as if from a great agony.
They were the voices of women.
Opening the doors into the great hall the floors were writhing with bodies.
Soldiers beat and raped women all around.
The women's howls nearly deafening me.
At knife and gun point the men held them.
Thrusting with reckless abandon.
I was now just a boy again.
Standing powerless as the men ripped into their victims.
I tried to pry one of them apart pleading for him to stop.
Their flesh however was united.
Fused as if they were of one body.
I soon realized all of them were connected.
They were a single mass of melted flesh that thrashed all around me.
Then suddenly it stopped moving.
The screams stopped and the women stood.
Their stomachs beginning to bulge out.
Their breasts became plump and bloated with milk.
In a unanimous motion the males gutted the swollen wombs.
Reaching crooked claws inside they drew out the young and dashed them to the floor.
My breath caught and I fell to my knees.
The floor was now crimson as the bodies of the women fell into pools of their own blood.
I cried and closed my eyes.
What did this mean?
"Where has honor gone?" came a tiny thin voice to my sore ears.
My eyes opened to find a small child holding one of the women's hands.
It was pale like new snow in his trembling fingers.
I went for the boy to hold him and he turned to dust in my arms.
I awoke again this time covered in ash.
My blankets had burnt away without leaving a mark on myself.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Last Knight

 ***Words from the Author***
I do not know why I wrote the following passage. It is not based on a dream, but it came from a strange sort of spontaneous inspiration. I hope you enjoy. Before you is the Last Knight.
***End Words from the Author***


I dreamed I rode an old winding road that would take me from one place to another.
It was at a crooked and sickly elm hanging over the path where my eyes were caught.
Under the elm slept a man. Or at least it had been assumed that it was a man asleep.
Under layers of rusted armor set with empty sockets that once held jewels.
Out of the closed visor sprang tufts from an old gnarled white beard.
His chest no longer drew breath that is to say he did not move as I passed.
The only movement was the waving of his rotted tabbard in the wind.
I think it once held markings that told of his once noble station.
I stopped in front of his feet, and dropped down from my saddle.
Holding my reins in a hand, my other prodded his side with my rifle.
He did not move, but there was a whistle as the gasses of death escaped and filled the air.
Flies flew to the winds and maggots crept out of hiding.
I wretched to tell the truth. Never had I seen one who was dead and left to rot.
His shield was strapped across his back and it helped to hold him erect.
His sword lay at his side fallen from his grasp.
I wondered if he had tried to hold off death with his now lost blade.
Looking through his visor I saw black sockets swimming with grubs and worse.
As I began to stand and pull away from the carcass it sprang to life.
His sword hand grabbed at me.
My collar was caught and I was drawn to his plated helm his visor pressed against my cheek.
I felt hot wet blood drip from the wound the point inflicted on my soft skin.
His other hand pulled free the visor and revealed his cracked and rotten flesh.
Gnarled brittle lips curled and broke in defiance as he began to speak.
"Where has nobility gone?" he asked in a horse whisper through brown and crooked teeth.
I awoke at this time to find myself in a panicked sweat.
My lungs grasping for air.
I felt my face and found it was wet.
Crimson stuck to my fingers, but there was no wound to be found.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

To Forgive Providence

Part 3 - The Finale

A ringing throbbed in Thomas Ashton's ears. His eyes could see nothing but darkness. He knew not if it was blindness or if all light had left the room. Crawling toward the device he could hardly breath with anticipation. He felt a warm mass. It must be the boy. It had short swift breaths. And its skin was moist to the touch.

“Daniel, Daniel Smith is that you?” was all Thomas could whisper through clinched teeth. His every fiber was telling him to flee. What he was touching could not be human. It was spongy and damp like what the boy was before Daniel gave it his blood.

The form jerked away and was gone from Thomas' touch. He simply heard the sound of draining fluids and the soft thump of human bodies falling to the ground. The darkness was now forcing itself on him. Crushing the air from his lungs. His whole body clinched. He was prepared to die. He was always willing to die for Daniel's theories, but the terror that gripped him now could not be ignored. Every fiber screamed at him now, 'Run, Flee,' but he couldn't he was paralyzed.

A could snout pressed against Thomas' ear. A warm breath panted an unearthly watery stench. “Tell me Mr. Ashton, tell me is this what you had in mind all along.” it breathed the words in a slow watery way.

Thomas couldn't talk words would not come. His muscles began to spasm as they grew fatigued. He couldn't release he was clenched ready for death. His bowels evacuated into his pants.

“You fool boy. I have come to educate you. One cannot fathom the depths of the abyss. One cannot tamper with such things and not be punished. In fact I have been personally torturing your dear Doctor Smith for years now. That mind in the jar is nothing more than living tissue very much devoid of a soul. I pray we meet up in the abyss. We have so much more to discuss.” at that Thomas felt a sharp pain in his neck. A moment later his eyes closed forever just as they glimpsed his torso falling to the ground several feet away.

At dawn a traveling salesman came to the house in the cleft looking to sell his wares. He found a small blond curly haired boy sitting on the stoop shivering.

“Boy why are you out in the cold. What is that all over you? My... my gods what has happened?” The boy was covered in blood from next to toe. Not a drop of it having touched his pristine blond hair. As the salesman stepped forward to help, the boy raised a distorted hand and pulled off the skin of the now very much dead Samuel Smith and proceeded to dissect the salesman. The creature used long talon like fingers raking away slivers of skin like sheers to lamb's wool. A cracking laughter thundered through the valley. The creature was going to have fun in this world.

And still to this day people whisper about the evil that awaits men who travel to the cleft, cause you never know if the creature from the abyss is going to be waiting there for you wearing the perfect blond hair of a young boy no older than twelve.

Friday, June 24, 2011

To Forgive Providence

Part 2
“Oh, please sir tell me about my father. Janet reveals so little information and I would like to know more. Especially of his research.”

“If information is what you desire perhaps this desire will be fulfilled. However certain paths lead to nothing more than pain and death. Your father learned this in his research. You know he killed himself, correct?' Thomas stood grinning at the boy his slick black hair parted down the middle.

A brief grimace spread across the boys face. “Yes sir, I know this. It is why no one dares speak of him. Everyone knows that those who take their own lives become restless spirits that will haunt those who speak of them.”

“Ah, yes the sad superstitions of the hill people. Your father's spirit is not in this realm of that I am certain. But still your father's research I suppose is like the restless spirit you spoke of. It will haunt any who know of it. I fact it has been my burden all these years to wait for the opportune time to tell you of your father's research.” A rustle comes from the back of the house and a short scream dies on the quiet night.

“Why did you have to wait sir? I have been old enough to understand the basics of it for some time. What little I could draw forth from Janet.” As the boy finished his words a tall wall of a man walked out from Janet's room. His hands dripped a dark fluid onto the floor which quickly devoured it into its many pores.

“Yes, my associate. Samuel meet John Cleveland. He has little on the intellectual side, but he makes up for it with unearthly strength.” With a nod towards John, the boy turns around to have a bag thrown over his head. Darkness is all that he sees for several hours. As the hours pass he hears many a thing moving around inside the old cottage. With a flick of a wrist suddenly the bag is removed. The light nearly blinds young Samuel. As they adjust the smiling face of Thomas Ashton stares at him.

“My boy. We will make history this day. This night will mark the birth of a new era. Soon we few will control the destiny of mankind. Boy, can you imagine? No longer praying away the wrath of otherworldly beings? They will pray that we avert our wrath from their inhuman heads!” his excitement was like a fire. His eyes only ever stopped moving to stare at the boy. His lithe form shook with anticipation.

“What are you doing? Untie me. Please. I don't own much but what ever I have...” it was at this point the boy notice the still body of Janet Smith laying on the floor. A pool of red fluid spread around her form. Several other men where now inside the room. They were moving many objects around making a sort of pattern around the boy. The objects burned with blue light that shook violently inside glass orbs. It flashed around inside the balls like lightning.

“What am I doing? I am teaching you. Your fathers research. Your father killed himself so he could kill the gods. Once our worlds connect they will have no power over us. He has already brought small parts into this world. And one of those small parts was you boy. You are an otherworldly being. Yet you were dying. We didn't understand why, until your father bleed his life blood into you. It seemed to transform you. From an otherworldly being into a human. Your father became obsessed. So he created a device that would allow the conscious mind to transcend death itself. Using you as the conduit we will bring your father back and welcome in the era of gods who are men.” he paced all the while suddenly stopping and taking a deep breath. “My goodness listen to me ramble I get so excited. Needless to say you will cease to exist, but if our theories are correct your powers will be unlocked and your father's mind will replace your own.”

The boy shook with fear. Replacing the gods? His father not being his father? None of it made sense, but he could do little as the apertures was assembled around him. At its center above the boys head a jar was placed from that jar ran several wires. In the jar the boy saw something he did not understand, but it was in fact his father's brain in a mysterious liquid.

“Start it! Start it now men! We are changing the tides of reality itself!” Thomas yelled against the buzzing of the machines.

As soon as the words were spoken the blue lights began to flare leaving their glass orbs and dancing from device to device. Spinning around the boy. With increasing power. Soon all grew blind in the room as the energy reached a critical level. Shadows began to dance around the apparatus. Creatures tore at the wall of energy. Unearthly cries spread through electric filled air. And then there was dark.

To Be Continued...

To Forgive Providence

On the whispered twilight of a new night. The crisp summer air is moist with the dew that falls from a half lit sky. Orange cream spreads in the west as a burning sphere descends from view. Twin mountains stand with the sun betwixt their breasted crests. A small lad walks the cobbled path home. His shoes tied together and slung over a shoulder. His gait is jovial as would be expected by any observer. For the boys grin spread across a freckled face that shone from a brilliant inner light.

The cottage sat in the cleft of the two mountains it was dark but for a single candle that flickered angrily. The boy stopped as he grew near the place. Dropping his shoes from his shoulders he bent down to put them on. His golden curly locks covered his face, but a definite shadow appeared as a voice rose from the cottage.

"Boy, boy? Where are you boy? I have waited for hours where are you?" said a hateful creaky voice.

"I am here. No doubt you have waited. I was caught up in a game of leap frog that lasted hours beyond my expectations." called the boy who began to trot back to the house.

The boy passed the remaining distance and opened the door. The candle's orange light dimly fell from the open door as the boy passed inside. Yet, as the door closed the candle died or was slain. Night was out in full strength at this time. The only light was that of several tiny stars that gazed down on earth from their perches high in the heavens. This night several stars would look away. For happenings of great evil would fill the void left by the sun's descent.

A cleft between two mountains is not always the best place to build a home. Some say that such places are evil. Some say such places are blessed. I know not which, but evil came to the cleft when there was a sudden knock on the cottage's door.

A candle was lit and a door was cracked. A blond haired boy sheepishly looks out a door where a tall slight man stood hat in hand.

"Greeting's my good lad. Is your guardian about? If I remember correctly it is a bitter old hag by the name of Janet Smith. And you my boy go by Samuel Smith?" he words were said with a glad tone.

"Yes, sir I am Samuel Smith. And Janet is home, shall I rouse her for you?"

Pushing his way past the lad the man entered. Standing perfectly erect he spun a circle taking in the whole of the entry, which acted as kitchen, dining room, Sam's room, and lounge.

"I am so rude," bowing down almost doubling himself over the man bent his head to the boy. "I am Thomas, Thomas Ashton. I was a good friend of your fathers in fact I helped him greatly in his studies."

A glow of excitement crossed the boys face. He had not met a man who had known his father or even known of his father's studies in quite some time. This was certainly a fortuitous situation in the boys mind. Alas the evil that had enter his innocent life would change those feelings all too soon.

To Be Continued...

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The Sun that I so Dearly Miss.

The Sun that I so Dearly Miss
A Scholarly Study
by
Lyonel Krist

Entry 1:

Walking to the Cowardly Inn through the forlorn town of Bristlespun I happened upon a tall pale gentleman by the name of Hestus Dilectus, he was a Dykorian, Unlike the majority of his kind he was an intellectual. I know not why but we began talking and I followed him out to a field on the edge of town. There we pondered for many hours about the mysteries of the universe and how there are many lights in the sky, but only one gives off any significant amount of light. This is of course besides the moon. Talking and staring up at the glittering night sky we talked about some of the Astronomy we had learned from books and scholars we had met in our travels. We discussed the constellations and how we use them as a means of discerning direction at night. We discussed all these things until my new friend Hestus Dilectus got up and walked away without a word. I watched him go and wondered if I had somehow offended him. I just shook my head at his rudeness and walked back to the Cowardly Inn.

I slept till the sun crested the Icefjord mountains and gave light to the village of Brsitlespun. And upon my waking I made my way outside to see if I might bump into Hestus again. It was at that time I saw a great deal of commotion on the edge of town. People were gathered around some sort of pole that was sticking out of the ground. Once I had grown closer I realized there was a charred corpse on the ground facing the sunrise. On the ground next to this corpse was a note with my name written on it.

"Lyonel,
I made a friend in you last night. I did not think it possible. Since, I was there to kill you and eat your flesh, but instead you befriended me and made my cold dead heart yearn for the sun that I so dearly miss. Thank you sir.
Sincerely, 
Hestus Dilectus"

I was befuddled to say the least what sort of man seeks out the flesh of the living and bursts into flame upon envisioning the sun. I heard whispers of Vrykolaka. I had heard of them. Creatures that ravaged the land during the Dark Years, but I didn't realize any had survived. And it was always taught that the creatures were mindless and unable to speak.

I fear that I have no choice but to pursue further study. Let us hope that I can keep myself safe from the beasts that have my spirit so enthralled. I am sending this entry a head so that if I fall during my studies they can be continued by another.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

In the Valley of Tam'Weht

It was a dark dawn as the good king Van Boldstein laid in his death bed. The people of Tam'Weht knew that soon the Darkness would return. Those that were brave and strong had long ago traversed the Mountains of Vatlasion to the far away and heavily defended kingdoms of Hannat'Jo and Hantielan. However those who stayed were either too foolhardy or unconcerned with life or death to put forth the effort of leaving. They knew that once the Darkness returned neither wall nor sword would offer defense. And death would only give a momentary reprieve before their true torture began.

And so the dark dawn gave forth king Van Boldstein's last breath. His body going cold and his spirit joining the many good kings that had passed before him. The specters immediately began to crawl forth from the shadows in which they had been bound. Screams could be heard across the valley. Those with a particular fondness of the vice sloth sat at the bars drinking their fill knowing they wouldn't pay the tab in this life. Cold fingers tore out warm blood pumping hearts. The Darkness spread encompassing all that was considered part of the Valley of Tam'Weht. The people fell to the ground as cold rotting things. Yet still wails of agony were heard from the valley.

Shortly after the land fell the kingdoms of Kerstok and Ve'Glest arrived hoping to offer aid and support. However Tam'Weht was preventing them from gaining access. It was as if the land itself was trying to deal with the Darkness that took over in the king's place. And so the other lands stood by awaiting the end result. No one had known what Tam'Weht was like before the Darkness was first expelled and no one knew if they would see the valley free of the Darkness again.

A hush of anticipation was over the land that surrounded Tam'Weht, but they soon forgot about the little valley. Roads were built around it. Children were told stories of the evil specters that will take your soul and torture it. And the world revolved and evolved. Yet still that valley sat beneath the Mountains of Vatlasion.

A wall was built. It grew tall and many forgot what was behind the wall. Soon, all forgot about the bedtime stories that would scare small children. Yet, even though man had grown and forgotten that small secluded valley. Still it sat under the Mountain of Vatlasion. It waited there until it could overcome the Darkness alone, and perhaps it never will. Though I tell you the truth this day. If Tam'Weht had let aid come to it, had it stood ready to fight the specters of the Darkness, than it would not have walls built around it today. It would be remembered and would be an important part of our future and past. Alone it was forgotten.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Veltier's Gamble the Story

Veltier's Gamble
An Introduction to Home an all new role playing experience.
by
Matthew Jones

His birth was like that of most children. His mother in excruciating pain, the father pacing nervously, and the midwife speaking words of encouragement and instruction. Like many children he came out head first. He cried and opened his eyes to a knew world. Unlike most children however he had no facial features. His nose was nothing more than slits and his skin was nearly translucent. The midwife shrieked and fell back. His father looked in horror. His child was a Trickster.
Tricksters are very rare and some are even killed at birth by some families. The hardship brought on by a Trickster is immense. So, the father did what any good father would. He clubbed the midwife over the head and bundled the child up. Getting his wife up as best he could he carried the two away. They made for the Fain Forest. He didn't look back. His sword was at his side and an ax on his back. His wife wept and the baby shrieked. Life was not going to be easy for the young couple, but the safety of his family was at hand. The man had to do what was best for his newborn child.
After about a day of travel he looked at his child who had now grown hair and a complexion that matched it's mother. A fully formed nose and blue eyes with flecks of gold. He was a beauty.

Veltier grew quickly as is natural with his kind. They have the power to adjust their mass nearly at will after all. His features changed often and he seemed to perfectly emulate the best features of both his mother and father. He knew nothing about the outside world, but he always felt a draw to something more than the woods. His curiosity grew daily. And he crept further away from his home in the most secluded part of Fain Forest.

A twenty year old man walked out of the Fain Forest. He had features both feminine and masculine in nearly perfect ratios. Golden blond hair that fell around his shoulders. His skin without blemish. So, when Joelin saw him she was enthralled. His clothes were made from the skins of animals and he carried a walking stick and walked confidently up to her.
“Greetings I am Veltier. Beautiful maiden might I inquire as to what your name might be?”

From his parapets King Handen saw the man walk out of the king's land, Fain Forest. The man strode directly toward Joelin his betrothed. Immediately Handen called for the guards to arrest the man.

Joelin watched in horror as the man was taken down forcefully. She hid her eyes as she heard what had to be a rib cracking under the weight of the guards knee. They had him shackled and disarmed in mere seconds. He an expression of confused horror.
“What have I dohh...” a club stopped his words.

Veltier awoke in the darkness of a dungeon. His wrists and ankles were torn by the shackles. Looking around the cell he saw putrid straw and a small bit of bread that was already being ingested by various insects. The reality of his situation didn't make sense until his fathers words came back to him.
“My son, you are special. As you know you can do things with your body that your mother and I cannot. Your kind are known as Tricksters. Evil, powerful men will stop at nothing to use you for their own ends.”
He had been captured. He was going to be enslaved and used as a tool by evil men. Looking at his shackles he began to will his wrists smaller and was able to slide them out of the shackles which fell to the cell's floor. Next he did the same with his ankles. He was soon free of his bindings but not his prison.

The King didn't know what Veltier was, but he understood the man was quite handsome and would make a good servant in his court. Thusly he planned on keeping the boy alive if he would swear fealty. Upon reaching the cell he looked in the window shocked to find the shackles laying empty on the damp floor.
“Open the damn door you fools the boy has escaped!”
Shocked and more than a little bit scared the guards jumped into action. They had spears ready and the door was quickly flung open. When they entered the room they found it completely empty. Looking in every corner and every pile of hay they could not find a trace of him.

Luckily for Veltier the guards helmets made looking up to the ceiling difficult. Also luckily enough for him the king was fuming and shouting curses sending them away to raise a full alert. Once the guards ran out of the room Veltier was alone with the king who looked around suspiciously. He looked up just in time to see Veltier dropping down on him, but not fast enough to stop him.

After the king didn't show up for awhile the guards came down to find a sight that shocked and confused them greatly. On the floor apparently unconscious were two exact likenesses of the king. Both were completely naked and breathing shallowly. Fearing what might happen if they allowed the king to awake on a dungeon floor they carried both bodies to the king's chamber and shackled both to the bed. The doctor examined them both and could not find any flaws in what must be a Trickster's disguise. The kings were screaming that the other was a Trickster. It raised such a ruckus that Joelin ventured to the king's bedchamber to see what all the morning's chaos had been about. She saw two King Handen's bound in shackles to the bed. She however soon saw through Veltier's disguise. And was about to tell everyone who the true king was, when the memory of her last beating came to mind.
“Oh Queen Joelin, surely you can recognize your true husband. Please study these men thoroughly and tell us who is in fact our king.” said the doctor who was still trying in vain to physically differentiate the two.
“Well.. this may take some time. Also I will need complete seclusion so that I can focus.”

King Handen watched in shock as his queen barred the door behind the men. And he began to curse more vehemently when she started to gag him. But he could do nothing to stop her. Once he was gagged she looked at Veltier with questioning eyes.
“You could not have disguised yourself as someone less important? You might have escaped that way.”
“My love. I am wholly and completely your husband.” Veltier said in a perfect impression of the king.
“My husband would never speak so politely to me. Especially behind closed doors. What I have to ask of you is, are you truly how you seem?”
“I know not what you mean?” Veltier asked in his own voice.
“Are you a gentleman? Will you be kind to your people?” as the queen asked this question the king finally understood what was happening and began to fight at his shackles. Blood began to drip more quickly. The queen then slapped him, “Stop that you'll bleed yourself dry. You stupid ox.”

Looking into Joelin's kind eyes Veltier know she was not tricking him. “My lady, if this lands people were under my domain. I would rule justly and would rule only with you by my side.”
The answer seemed to please her. And she took the gag from the king's mouth who started shouting for guards. She walked to the door and removed the bar. As the guards poured in unsure as to whose commands they should follow.
“Guards that man is not my husband. Put him in the deepest dungeon. Keep him well fed and do not listen to any of his lies. If ever we need a double for our king it would be nice to have one handy.” the queen said in a commanding voice, that even the confused guards could not deny.
The guards followed Joelin's finger to king Handen and bound him tightly taking him to the dungeon. The entire way he swore and cursed demanding to be released. Slightly and slowly the queen removed Veltier's bindings. And kissed him.

Veltier turned out to be a just king. He even managed to find his parents a home in his court. Although none, but his parents and the queen know the truth other than himself. King Handen rotted in the dungeon till they day he died, some twenty years later. The guards removed him. They knew full well by this point that Handen had been replaced, but Veltier was such a good king they had no problem throwing Handen into a shallow grave with none of the honor due him as a king. In fact when Veltier revealed his true identity to all his people they simply raised a cheer to their true king Veltier. He lived a long life and even created a card game that told the story of his fight to the top.
Joelin died a few years back and was given the most grand funeral the seven kingdoms had ever seen. Many where shocked seeing the king looking as young as ever as he placed his quite old wife into the ground. Even his children were beginning to show signs of age far beyond his own. Shortly after the funeral his eldest son was appointed king and Veltier disappeared.

A few years later a traveling magician and gambling professional began a game called Veltier's Gamble. His game caught on like wildfire and become the most played game in the seven kingdoms. Many believed that the magician was Veltier, but none could confirm it. He was here and there and gone before any could get a grasp of his identity. In fact he was found dead according to all accounts. The man had drank himself to death in a brothel. None believed after that, that the man could have been Veltier.

But the truth is I don't know for sure. The chance that Veltier could be out there could be anyone is an exciting thing no doubt. Perhaps he is your neighbor. Maybe even your best friend. I think evidence of him still living is obvious in the fact that Trickster trade has been down in recent years. Slavers are showing up dead and their cargo has been released and even hidden. We can only hope that he will one day return and bring peace back to his people. His family has long been dead and his card game is all but forgotten except by travelers and ruffians.

May luck find you and a story fill your soul with hope. Words are but the continuation of life and I am but a surgeon of a different sort. I sow the seeds of hope will I sow the wounds of the soul. Tell my story to all you meet and one day perhaps he may hear our pleas and become the good king again.

Friday, March 18, 2011

St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror

"Everyone though that the tradition to get wasted and pinching people for not wearing green happened as part of a strange evolution for the holiday St. Patrick's day, but in actuality it was all designed to appease one damn ugly zombie demi-god. St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror!"

"Today is the day after St. Patrick's day in the year 2022. With the second prohibition and new alcohol nazi bots. Alcohol has finally been knocked out of existence. We all thought it was a good thing, until he awoke. Without the offering of poor life choices and groping masked as pinches the zombie demi-god was not appeased and his rage knows no bounds. St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror!"

"Just when you thought it was safe to be sober. St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror!"

"One college town is about to find out that alcohol was the only thing protecting them from annihilation. St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror!"

"From the creators of such films as 'Easter Egg Hunt: Bad Egg,' 'Twas the Night before Slaughter,' 'Jack O'Lantern Bury Me Slowly,' and the award winning blockbuster 'Here's My Heart Now I'll Stab You With It,' comes the newest master piece of holiday terror 'St. Patrick's Day the Dawn of Terror!' With more gore. More gratuitous nudity. And more f*#%ed up ways to dismember the human body."

Sorry I was thinking about how funny it would be if St. Patty was a zombie demi-god that wanted to eat all of mankind, but our yearly dinge drinking actually somehow protected us from his wrath. So, it was a silly little movie teaser post. Thanks for reading Happy Hour After St. Patty's Day!!!.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Sketch I made before bed last night.

A guy walks through a strange world with Hydra head floors and a giant face backdrop. A crab lunges out from the abyss and disembowels him while holding on to the 6x1 the man wears around his neck. A ghost attempts to get inside the mans head as a planarian comes up to say hi. (Longest image title ever.)