Isolation Part 2

Chapter 3

Steve sits at the table in the second chamber eating oatmeal he made himself. Vector sits at the other end of the table completely still. “How much longer,” Steve asks Vector between bites? “Two more hours until communication is back on.” “What if something killed who ever sent that part and we are just sitting here waiting to die?” “Highly unlikely Steve, Sector 156 has never been inhabited till 2120 when the first prisoners were brought here to make the ten cells for mining and prison purposes.” “What if something does live here and the mining has just started to affect them?” “Not likely Steve Sector 156 has an average temperature of 450 degrees year round except on two days of the year” “Supply days yeah I know, but I’ve lived here no problem for three years. So maybe whatever lives here or could live here is also living underground.” “Impossible,” Vector says before being interrupted. “Nothing is impossible Vector. “There is no life on this planet other than what was put here.” “I hit a nerve there good buddy?” “I have no nerves Steve only circuits.” “We’re not alone on this planet. I’d put money on it that, that is what got who ever sent that part.” “What is money Steve?” “Never mind,” Steve says with a yawn. “Maybe you should go back to sleep Steve. I can wake you once communication comes back on-line.” “I’m okay Vector. I think I will take a shower and change though.” “Remember the water is coming to an end so there won’t be much.” “Thank you Vector,” Steve says as he gets out of his chair.

Steve walks into the first chamber and slides a cover on the wall to reveal his cloths. He chooses the usual black he was assigned when he first arrived. Steve takes the picture from his back pocket and places it next to the clean clothes on the bed. He undresses and moves another cover to reveal a built-in shower. Steve steps into the claustrophobic washing chamber and turns the water on high. The warm water feels good on his face he thinks as he holds his face in the warm water. With no warning or announcement the water shuts off. “Seriously,” Steve says out loud. He taps the water button again, but nothing comes out. Steve presses the dry button and warm air is shot from all around him. He opens the door and steps into the bedding chamber. As Steve dresses he begins to hear the sound of scratching from the wall at the end of the small chamber. “Vector what are you doing in there?” From the other chamber Vector says, “Cleaning up the mess in here.” The scratching grows louder as Steve quickly straps up his boots. Steve throws on his shirt and puts his picture back into his back pocket. He walks over to the far wall and places his ear up against the cold steel. Steve can hear the sounds of heavy breathing as the scratching continues. “What the fuck,” he says out loud to himself. Steve backs away at the nick of time as the metal wall breaks slightly to reveal a hand full of claws. A blast of heat comes into the chamber as the hole grows bigger. Steve wastes no time as he runs into the next chamber. He presses the chamber shut off button as he enters the next chamber. “Vector get into the work shop now.” Vector raises his head to ask a question as the beast in the next chamber slams its massive body against the chamber door.  Vector rolls into the next chamber as Steve follows right behind him. Steve presses the chamber shut off button as he makes his way into the workshop. He rests his back against the closed-door and slowly slides down until he is sitting on the ground. “There’s no way something else lives on this planet Steve. It’s impossible,” he mocks as he breathes in deep.

 

Chapter 4

“Vector how long can the chamber doors hold back whatever is behind them?” “Data unknown too many factors to determine such an outcome.” “Is communication still down?” “For the next hour at least,” Vector informs Steve. There is constant pounding that comes from the next chamber as Steve gets up and walks over to Vector. He inspects Vector’s Casing looking for anything that can be used for defense. “Steve what are you doing,” Vector asks? “I’m trying to see if there is anything on you that we can use as a weapon. Do you have a defensive system at all?” “No I was built to assist not destroy.” “Great I’m stuck with a giant paper weight in a fight for my life.” Steve walks over to his work bench and starts to take out any tools he can use to carve out metal with. “Vector I need a piece of your casing.” “What for Steve,” Vector questions as he turns his body to face Steve? “I need to send a message to the other sections.” “Bi law 24,” Vector starts to rattle off. “I know what the code and the rule is Vector, but I need to warn them.” “I can’t let you Steve it is against the rules.” “I was afraid you would say that,” Steve picks up the metal pipe from the side of his work bench. “Steve what are you doing with that?” “What I have too,” he says as he brings the pipe down hard on Vector. The pipe hits its mark on the lower back of Vector’s casing taking out his ability to move. Vector tries to stop the second swing but his arm misses the pipe as it lands hard into its upper back. Vector is now unable to use his arms. “They really made a design flaw when they made your components too much like a humans.” Vector turns his head to face Steve, “You didn’t have to do this Steve.” Aloud crash interrupts Steve as the creature breaks throw into the second chamber. “Time is running out Vector can you still send and receive communications?” “Yes I still can and there is still no window.” Steve grabs a tool off the work bench and starts to ply off a piece of Vectors casing. He is able to disassemble a large enough piece from Vector’s lower back. Steve then takes the piece to his work bench to engrave his own message. “What are you going to do with that piece?” “I’m going to write a message and then send it to Section A. They should be within communications by now if they aren’t already dead.” Sparks flay as Steve begins to cut in to the casing. He spells out each word as he cuts them carefully into Vector’s casing. It doesn’t take him long to engrave the case and he places the finished piece into the transfer tube. What if they are dead Steve,” Vector asks as Steve presses the send button. “Then we are also dead.”

The creature finally finds the door between chamber two and chamber three. It pound on the door with all of its might causing the wall to shake with every hit. Steve takes the picture out of his back pocket and stares into the eyes of the woman on it. “What is that,” Vector asks? “My wife and child,” Steve says quietly. “You have a wife and child?” “I had one yes. They didn’t tell you why I was here?” “Headquarters informed that you were here for accidental murder, but not the cause for such an action.” “That is why I am here, but it is much more complicated than that.” Steve’s eyes begin to tear up as he rubs his thumb down the side of his wife’s face. “I am here because I killed the murderer of my wife and child. It was ruled an accident, but I didn’t kill him on accident. I wanted him dead and that’s why I am still here. That is why I can never leave because I deserve to be here.” “He killed your wife and child Steve human emotions and laws dictate that your course of action is justified under accidental. You were not yourself when you committed the act of murder.” “What difference does it make? I’m going to die here anyways.” “Cut,” the director shouts from the front of the set. “Johnny, Johnny listen to me the tears need to be real and I need more than just two. Your upset over the death of you wife and child.” “Dan it’s a direct to DVD movie. Who gives a fuck if the crying doesn’t feel real? I mean I’m on a planet called Sector, What the fucks the number?” “156,” the line reader calls out to the actor. “Right, I’m on planet Sector 156 being chased by a hairy beast underground, and all of this is because the surface temperature is 451 degrees. Come on who wrote this shit? Ray Bradbury should sue. Look I know I said I would do the project, but this is really not working.” The actor gets up and starts to walk off the set. “Someone get me my agent. I don’t care if my careers in the crapper I’m not doing any more of these shitty movies. The government can have my fucking money.” “Johnny come back,” the director calls out to the actor. “God damn it I knew I should have gone with an unknown.”

Isolation Part 1

Chapter 1

“Steve it is time to wake up,” a robotic voice calls out from all sides of the room. “Steve you must get up and check in or you know what happens.” A robotic hand reaches out to nudge Steve as he sleeps on the small twin sized bed. “Can’t I at least get ten more minutes Vector? Section 156 D isn’t going to melt down if I get ten more minutes.” Steve pulls the covers closer to his face revealing his toes to the cold. “Awe fuck it. Why does it have to be so damn cold here,” he asks rhetorically? “Steve you know we have the heat at the maximum according to Sector 150’s code rule 36 article C.” Steve mouths the words as he places is hand in the machine next to the bed to check in. “I realize this is all supposed to be punishment, but I’m on a moon three million miles from anywhere. Where am I really going to go?” “Steve you know it has to more with verifying that you are still alive than actually running away.” “And you can’t just send a messages back saying I am still alive Vector?” “I can not do such a thing as I was not programmed for such a task.” “You also weren’t programmed to befriend the prisoners, but you do any ways. Can you grab my boot for me Vector?” Vector extends his robotic arm and grabs the boot beside the bed. “Well actually Steve,” the robot begins to say. “Not now okay? It is much too early to start that conversation again.” “Okay,” the robot says with a hint of human disappointment. “Don’t sound so disappointed Vector. What do you say we get some breakfast? What does your system need today?” “Processing, oil is at 55%, batteries at 98 % charge, and all systems are at level green.” “Oil it is then. Why don’t you start on my breakfast while I grab the oil?” Vector rolls through the open door way into the next chamber as Steve straps on his boots. Vector is gone for seconds before he comes back into the room, “Did you want apple cinnamon or brown sugar?” Steve rubs the sleep out of his eyes, “Oatmeal again?” “You have no other choices. You used up all of your meat rations for this week already.” “Damn it, is it Friday already?” “No Steve it is Saturday the fifth of November 2136.” “It can’t be,” Steve says in disbelief. “If it was Saturday I would have the day off you know that.” “New work schedule order 1723 came from headquarters earlier in the week.” Vector plays back Steve’s reaction from earlier in the week, “Son of a bitch.” “Son of a bitch is right,” Steve says in nearly the same tone as the playback. “This is bull shit you know that right?” “Yes I do, apple cinnamon or brown sugar?” “Brown sugar,” Steve says in a deflated tone. “Can you burn it a little bit?” “As you like Steve,” Vector says as he rolls back into the second chamber.

Steve is in the third and final chamber of what could be best described as his prison. The third chamber is the largest of all his chambers and it houses his workshop.  He is hard at work repairing parts that he must send back to the other nine inhabitants of sector 156. Steve has never met the other nine inhabitants of this sector. His orders are handed down to Vector and delivered via a transfer tube that takes up the whole back wall of his work shop. As he finishes each part he must press the corresponding number to send it back to where it came from. He is currently working on a part from Section G of Sector 156. “How’s the weather above us today Vector?” “Today the surfaces temperature is at 451 degrees Fahrenheit with a wind gust of fifty-five miles per hour.” “Another beautiful day in paradise,” Steve says in a heavy sarcastic tone. “How many more orders are left for today?” “Three more and today’s work is done.” Steve rubs his eyes getting black smudges of grease around his eye sockets. He picks up his soldering iron and goes back to work on the circuit board that will go back into the drilling arm for Section G. “Can you get me some more light Vector?” Vector opens the shades of the artificial windows around the chamber little by little until Steve says that is enough. For three years now this has been Steve’s life on Sector 156. An underground tomb with three chambers and a robot named Vector. Steve makes short work of his last three assignments and cleans up his work space. Every tool and every part has its own assigned place on the work bench. Space is extremely tight in Section D and he must keep safety in mind the robot repeats for the millionth time. Vector helps clean up by placing the finished parts into the transfer tube sending each one to their section of Sector 156. “Want to play a game of chess after we are done with this?” Vector answers back in his usual tone, “Yes, what do you want for dinner?” “I’m not hungry yet,” Steve says as he places the finally cooled soldering iron in it rightful place. “You have been working for sixteen hours straight Steve. I let you skip lunch, but you must have dinner.” Steve rolls his eyes, “How about after a game of chess I will eat dinner?” “As you wish Steve, but you must eat you have to maintain a certain weight or your body begins to suffer.” “I’m fine Vector why don’t you go start setting up the game?” Vector leaves the chamber to set up the ancient game of chess on the only table in chamber two. Steve finishes up with his tools before taking a picture out of his back pocket. The picture is of a woman holding a small child in her arms.

After a few minutes Steve makes his way into the second chamber and takes the only seat at the small table. “Black again,” Steve asks? “Are you trying to tell me something?” “I don’t understand what you mean? If it is a problem I can switch it.” “There’s no problem Vector, honest. I just must be a little tired.” “You have been working for a long time.” “Price I have to pay for living in a place with no windows and no sun.” “There is a sun Steve. It is because of the sun that you have to live underground.” “Don’t remind me Vector,” Steve say dissatisfied. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to go home?” “I am home Steve. I was manufactured to be here and I will always be here until they replace me.” “That’s how I feel sometimes,” Steve says as he moves his pawn two spaces up. Vector moves its knight to just the front of the line. “How do we even know we are being watched or that anyone really cares if I check in?” “You know I can’t tell you anything Steve. You just have to trust what I say.” “Trust is a human emotion Vector and it’s earned not just assumed.” “Have I ever done anything for you to not trust me?” “No, but then again you are programmed to never fail.” “Because I am not human doesn’t mean I can’t fail.” “So you don’t have a failsafe program for failing?” “Of course I have a program for every possible outcome, solution, failure, or anything a human can throw at me.” Vector takes Steve’s pawn, but Steve doesn’t seem to care much. “We must pause the game it is time to check in again,” Vector informs Steve. “What happens if I don’t check in?” “Steve we have been over this. You must check in every twelve hours.” “Or what Vector?” “Nothing will happen because you are here voluntarily.” “Exactly so why must I check in if it really doesn’t matter? I have been free to leave for the last year.” “It is part of the rules and procedures of Sector 156. All prisoners must check in every twelve hours.” “I am not a prisoner you even said so yourself.” “Regardless you in habit this section of Sector 156 and you must follow all rules.” Steve throws the game board on the floor and walks to the reporting machine. Steve sticks his hand into the mold inside the machine. The machine takes a scan on his hand and a drop of blood for testing. “Anger, another human emotion I will never understand,” Vector says as the machine works. “Fucking bite me tin can,” Steve shouts as he walks to the chamber on the left. Vector rolls into the next chamber to find Steve already in his bed. “This is home Vector I can’t and I won’t leave.” “Then why do you question and fight the rules of home?” “Because I am human and it is what I am supposed to do.”

 

Chapter 2

Several hours later Steve is awoken by the buzzing sound of an incoming part. “I’ll be right there,” Steve says half asleep. Steve puts his feet in his boots and doesn’t bother strapping them. He walks through the second chamber to see Vector in his charging bay. “No, no don’t wake up I got it,” Steve says as he nearly slips on the chess pieces still lying on the floor. “Clean up this mess Vector,” Steve shouts as he makes his way into the workshop. Vectors systems fire up at the sound of his name. The workshop lights flicker on as Steve walks over to the transfer tube. “God what time is it? I can’t believe I am this tired,” Steve says as he grabs the small part in the tube. “Great, just great I have to follow every damn rule, but these assholes don’t.” Steve throws the small part up on to the work bench as he looks for something to clean his hand. “How hard is it to clean the part off before sending it to me,” Steve says to himself. Steve grabs a rag out of the rag drawer and wipes his hand clean. He tosses the dirty rag in the rag pile and walks back to his bench to examine the part. Steve takes the small part in his hands and tries to figure out just what he is looking at being careful to not touch the red sludge covering the surface of the part. “This doesn’t even seem broken just dirty.” As Steve turns it over he discovers something has been filed into the part, but he can’t make out what it says. “You, could, something, next,” Steve works out before dropping the part with a loud bang on the steel floor. “Steve what is the noise? Steve where are you?” “I’m in the workshop. I need you here right now Vector.” Vector rolls in the third chamber to find Steve sticking his hand out at him. “What are you doing up right now Steve,” Vector asks? “I need this tested Vector.” “What for,” the robot questions? “Blood or oil,” Steve says as calmly as he can. Vector extends its arm and uses its finger to wipe some of the red sludge off of Steve’s hand. Again Steve takes a rag from the rag container and wipes his hand, but this time he doesn’t throw it in the used rag container. Steve picks the part off of the floor and replaces it back on the work bench. “What is it Vector,” Steve asks while cleaning of the part with the rag. “It is still being processed,” Vector responds back. Steve rereads the words so carefully dug into the part. “You could be next. What could it mean,” Steve whispers to himself. “The red substance from your hand is blood Steve.”

Steve paces the workshop as he talks to himself, “What could it mean? What could I be next for? Did this person take their own life? There’s no other way there could be blood. None of this makes any sense. Vector is there any way we can figure out where the part came from?” “That information is locked and you may not access such information.” “Yeah, but you can and there for you can send a message to that sections robot.” “Yes,” the robot confirms. “Okay so can you do that for me?” “No, prisoners are not allowed to communicate between sections.” “You can’t just contact the computer ask if everything is okay and then just say yes or no.” “I can’t release any information regarding other sections and their inhabitants. Bi law 24 D code 5466 no prisoner is to speak with or come in contact with other prisoners. This includes all forms of communications as well as between robots otherwise known as Hal Vector 23s.” “If we are not allowed to communicate then how’d the other inhabitant get a message to me that says you could be next? Why would his Hal Vector allow that? If that Vector bent the rules so can you.” “Rules are not meant to be broken or bent Steve. I have no logical explanation of how one robot failed.” “Vector I need you to contact the section this part came from and find out if everything is all right. You don’t have to tell me any direct information other than yes or no. Even if you say no I still have no idea what happened and there for have no idea about what is going on there.” Vector doesn’t say anything or do anything as Steve grows even more frustrated. “Fine whatever can you at least call headquarters and patch me in?” “Communication is down while Sector 156 orbits the other side of its sun.” “Son of a bitch for how long,” Steve asks. “At least four hours before Sector 156 is able to resume communications with headquarters,” Vector informs Steve. “Fine then we will wait four hours since you can’t just send a simple messages of how are you doing to the other fucking section.”

 

Part 2 tomorrow…Well Chapters 3 and 4… 

 

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Beautiful Liar

I use to be like you, naïve and care free
I use to wish for a dream come true and all that shit
but I am more real than I once thought I truly was
Nightmares and dreamscapes only come true in your sleep
Awake all there is, is tragedy and wishful thinking
The streets are filled with the slowly dying
and the buildings and offices are filled with the damned
My eyes were once closed, but now they are always open
I drain the blood from the streets and sweep up the dead
The only job I have left
The only job I was condemned

 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep in my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretend to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeve less shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeve less arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heart beat pounding in my head not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

 

Last preview of the month and it is a long one… Like most things in my life this is nothing but fiction… Except Big Daddy is real.. He walks among us… Don’t fear the reaper… Fear the stench… Until tomorrow… Best of luck….

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Know What I Mean

Do you know what I mean
When I say I am living a lie
No longer mad when I know I should be
Passion is all but a thing of the past
Romance is all but nothing at all
How long do you stare at someone
And realize they are the worst person of all
Is there an etiquette
For cutting loose
The buckling ties that bind?
Do you know what I mean
When I say I am lost and alone
I don’t think that you really do
I think you think everything is still okay
Whatever that means at this point
Such an awful thought to think about
Such a funny after taste after all
For something that was supposed to last forever
I said I loved you
But I guess you didn’t
If you know what I mean

 

If It Mattered

It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the guilt
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t all that I could think about
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t an addiction
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the thoughts of suicide
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I could only do it in the end
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I would only leave it but I can’t

 

Day One

Everything is so out of focus
Wish I could forget
Though right now, this second
Everything seems to only speak of regret
Do you know what I mean
Of course you don’t because I’m not you
And you’re not me
Dancing in the darkness, dancing in the moonlight
A mirror image of something that is not there
I laugh myself to sleep
Better than crying but I never said
There was no tears
They hysteria of it all is a thin line
Between madness and you
Today my life changed
For better or worse has yet to be seen
Like when the actions of the past
Combine, mix with thoughts of the future
All things lead to dead
But how we get there is unknown as of yet

Went with three poems for this week… The middle one was short so it only seemed fair… This weeks theme was love… Isn’t it always though?… Well if you haven’t heard… My book is available on Kindle… I feel just as dirty as you think I am… Dreams and shit…. Thank you for stopping by and until tomorrow… Best of luck…

 

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Break Over-Welcome to Hell

Why did I even come here? It surely wasn’t for the great fucking scenery that’s for sure. I really can’t answer the question I am faced with every morning I look out the window of my house. This town is a dying community of people still trying to hold on to a time that was better than this. And I am here to say that there is no such thing. I think it is easier for this town to not believe in reality. Too just spread the lies as each generation keeps dropping out. The town is broke, hell the whole region is, we carry a city on our backs, and float in shit waiting to hear how the state government will fuck us over again. This town is caught between fucked and truly fucked. What’s left of the jobs not sent to China are actually being run by people who aren’t even from this area. The people with all the money, the rich, are all from other parts of America, and they don’t stay long after realizing just how decrepit this town has become. The rest of America is under the impression that when you live in New York you live in the city with all the bright lights and all of the future at your feet. When in truth the city is only five hours away, but it feels more like it is on the other side of the world. Jamestown is worlds apart from what other people think of New York and some days it feels light years away from where I am anymore. Why am I here? Why is anyone here? I pick at a scab on my hand and it starts to bleed. It starts to bleed a little bit and then it begins to bleed a little bit more and then a little bit more. The blood dripping, flowing down my finger and finding its way into the palm of my hand. The scab was once a blister that I tore. The blister is from the last time I played drums. It had been a while since I played drums and the calluses that once proved I was good at something have long disappeared. Why did I move here? Better yet why did she move us here? That’s right she wanted to come here it was all her choice after I told her what my mom said. It was her suggestion that we come and then she was gone. She threw me aside like a piece of rotten meat. Why did I move here? Why did I move anywhere? The cigarette I have been smoking is slowly making its way to my fingers and I know I should put it out, but I just stare at it. I can feel the warmth of the fire burning within the cigarette, proof that I can at least feel something. The drug store bandage that once covered the scab I just can’t stop picking lies on the dirty floor next to last night’s attempt to forget just what is wrong with me. My floor is littered with dirty cloths and trash, I realize yet again I have let myself go. Tomorrow classes start back up at the local community college and I must return to further prove nothing is really wrong. If there is one thing I hate it is that fucking school. Why did I move back here? So I could complete college after dropping out of the last one due to a lack of interest. Now the only way I can make it through a single class is to numb myself into a coma. At least the drugs are good for something. The blood is nearly dry in the palm of my hand and I begin to pick at the trail of dried blood. The blood falls off my skin like little red snowflakes. It’s four a.m. and I have my first class in less than six hours. I move myself from the chair in the dining room to my bed that I moved into the living room. My pillow smells like months of sweat and there are white mucus trails all over it. I flip my pillow over to the other side and realize I’ve already done that before. The breaks over and now I must return to hell. Tomorrow will be the same as the last.

 

The Death Bringer

I drag her body to the back forty of our property. It has rained hard for the last three days. Tonight though, the sky is clear as I drag her body. Her attempts at screaming fill the autumn air, and warn the neighbors that something is wrong. I brought a shovel and a pickaxe with us tonight. They will do most of the work tonight, but only with my help. I drop her leg and toss the shovel to my left make sure she can’t reach it. I take the pickaxe into both of my hand and raise it high above my head. She lets out a whimper afraid I will use it on her. Not yet sweetie. I bring the pickaxe down with everything I’ve got over and over, loosening the ground even more in to a sunken hole. That I will dig out soon with the shovel. She’s still breathing, but she is in no condition to get up and start running. Broken bones will do that. The ground makes a strange noise as I pull the pickaxe out of it. She begins to moan with every hammering thud of the pickaxe. I only imagine what it is she is thinking.

It should come as no surprise that I’m digging her grave tonight. She tries to roll over, but it’s hard with broken ribs. She grips the grass digging her nails into the dirt as she tries to pull away from her new home in the ground. Her attempts are useless she’s only hurting herself on her own now. She uses all her strength to scream again. With each one of her screams I can hear her pain and I like it. I take the shovel now and dig out the loosened ground piling it next to her. I throw chunks of earth on her face to give her a taste of her new home and to give her whining a rest even if it is only for a moment. She tries to spit the mud out of her mouth. She can’t get it all. The outline of the hole isn’t rather large, but I don’t need it to be I can fit her body anyway I need. After what seems like a life time of building up her final resting place it is big enough to fit her broken body. I pick her up and she tries to bite my neck and scratch my shirtless back. The mud on her nails doesn’t allow her the pleasure of hurting me. She slams on to her back as I throw her into her grave. “What do you know a perfect fit,” I spit into her face. She cries out, but it only hurts to cry at this point. She musters up the strength to say, “You’ll never get away with this you piece of shit.” I slam the pickaxe down one last time silencing her one last attempt to piss me off. “I know, but that’s all right,” I tell her dying body.

I leave the pickaxe sitting in her forehead and pick up the shovel. The removed earth splashes against her dead face. Falling into her open mouth and covering her opened eyes. It would look beautiful, but my mind is in another place. “Your world is dead to me. Your laws mean nothing,” I scream at her dead body as I fill her grave. The cops will arrive in the morning thanks to the concerned neighbors, but it’s too late and it doesn’t matter. No one will be a hero for taking me in. Someone will try to become one though. They will write a shitty book about their heroic actions at the scene, made up lies told in attempt to make a dollar off my actions tonight. They will give me some catchy name like Pickaxe Murderer or the Death Bringer or something fake and stupid. All the while I rotten in some jail cell waiting to die, but I’m already dead inside.

They will try to retire off my name and become a legend, but what they don’t realize is that they will only make my legend grow in the mindless sheep of the world. I finish burying her body and smooth over the dirt on top. The handle of the pickax is still sticking out of the dirt pointing to the house. I figure this is a good enough grave maker if any. Wonder how long it will take to “find” me I think as I walk back to the house. I open the side door and walk to the recliner next to the sofa. I pull the lever to release the leg rest and lean back. It’s going to be a long day, so I better rest up.

I don’t like to comment on stories and there is no reason for that, but… This one is actually part of a series of stories… The story actually doesn’t follow one character, but several in an attempt to explore the evolution of murder…. I think that this story and each part can hold up on its own, but if you’d like to read the others they are available in my book Drinking Bleach….

A Lie Preview

Part 2. Missed Part 1? It can be found somewhere within the bowels of this website.

The pharmacy is in the back and is the only real reason we exist. There are sixteen aisles in the store, only two of them matter. Aisles thirteen and fourteen, this is where we keep the over the counter medication. They are also the two numbers I have grown to hate because if the customers aren’t telling me their life story then they are asking me where something is. I say these two numbers so much that when thrown a curve ball of a question that has nothing to do with what is on those aisles I still say thirteen or fourteen and have to quickly change my answer. It is the little things that make you go insane.

The store has everything anyone could need in a live or die situation. Of course some things cost a lot more here than some other places, but the deals are fair and we get a lot of the locals coming in regularly. Every day is nearly the same as the day before it, but every now and then something changes. Like cigarette prices that have risen since New York State decided they needed more money to redecorate their offices or spend on hookers. In case you were wondering hookers are getting quite expensive it seems especially since the cost of their cigarettes went up. It’s a vicious cycle that every one of us has to pay. Because someone has to be making money off of something.

My break is almost up and I really don’t want to walk back in there and put on a fake smile, like I give a shit. I don’t know how I got myself into this situation, but yet in some twisted way I do. If it wasn’t for the drugs I don’t know what I would do with myself. I am rather confused about how everything really is and I often wonder if it is my brain that is lying to me. I throw my cigarette down on the ground, it makes a hissing noise as it penetrates the snow. I twist the cap off my shitty energy drink and swallow another pill that I most certainly need to get through the rest of my shift. It is another long day in hell and I welcome it with a smile.

The thing about it is. That it is really hard to chop up this book or burn it. I mean I guess you could, but who has that kind of money? If you do then you are in luck because…

 

Look I’m not very good at selling my soul which is why I have to do it and not someone I pay is doing it. Jesus that’s a bad sentence. I’m not sure what about it is bad. I just don’t like it.