Chewing On Glass Presents… My Nightmare…

She screams as she awakens. She doesn’t know what is wrong, but I do. It happens each and every night since she was born. Always as I reach deep sleep. Always at the exact moment that I believe tonight is the night I will sleep. It is as if she knows and must awaken at this moment. She is in my head. I know because I can feel it. She is only a small child, but I can tell already something is not right about her. Something is off. I can feel that too. She does things that I can’t understand. It must be through her mind like some kind of freak. I gave birth to some sort of freak baby. My womb must be tainted. Was it something I did? I haven’t gotten a single night’s sleep in days or maybe it has been months. I’m losing time because her cries have turned into time. She cries and cries as if she knows that I am suffering. She does it on purpose. I know it because I can feel it. What did I do to be cursed by this demon child? When I check on her she is all smiles. She wears a smile of pure enjoyment. She fooled me in the beginning. Tricked me into thinking one thing when another was happening. She knows what she is doing. I know what she is doing. The little bastard enjoys my pain, enjoys destroying me from the inside. She is the devil playing her little mind games of cat and mouse. I won’t play them no more. She cries hour after hour, but I’m not going to play these games. They told me to let her cry. It is a stage. I believe their lies for too long. Until I figured out the truth. The truth is lord and she is the spawn of something else. What does that make me?

She is only a child I repeat in my head. She is barely able to comprehend sound and light, but already she is conniving. Already she has begun to destroy me. To seek out my death. What does the future hold for me if I don’t get rid of her? A lifetime of pain and suffering. This is only the beginning I remind myself as her cries get louder and louder. Get rid of this madness before it sinks in any deeper? I must get rid of her somehow. Make it look like an accident. Parents take knives to their baby’s cribs all the time right? It just fell in there somehow. She told me that she wanted it officer. Wanted to help me with dinner I could tell them. Have I lost my mind? I can’t just let her cry. I can’t let her suffer even if she is doing the same to me. Tears stream from my eyes as I look over her. Her cries stop and her smile comes back. This is only the beginning. She will only continue to do this for the rest of her life, the rest of mine. I can’t sit back and watch what she will become. More tears fall from my face as I know what I must do.

So, peaceful but it is only a farce. A trick she uses against me to play with my emotions. I stare into her little blue eyes and they stare right back. “What are you plotting?” I scream into her smiling face. She laughs and giggles. Taunting me to do it. She is not a child. She is not my child, but a demon. A perversion of innocence. She is something so far worse. I know it because I can feel it. A mother knows these things. A mother can feel these things. She came from me. No one understands her, knows her like I do, and no one else is suffering like I am. Not my husband, not the neighbors around us. Me and only me. Maybe that’s it. Maybe she is suffering. Projecting her misery on to me. She wants me to end her suffering. I’m not killing her, but helping her. That has to be it I think. A wave of happiness washes over me. A feeling I haven’t felt in months as I rub my finger gently on her soft cheek. “I know what I must do,” I say to her in a soft tone. Her face is consumed by her smile and I know that she knows too. All this time and that is all that it was. What needs to be done must be done. She cries, she screams as soon as I walk away. Walk my way to the kitchen and to the knife block. Could there be any other way to do it? She must want this because it is the only way I can think to get this done. Her mind powers are the only answer. The butcher knife slides right of the knife block and I make my way back to her room. Make my way back to her crib.

The screaming stops once again. Her eyes open wide and full and she smiles at the sight of me. Merrily a distraction I tell myself. Must not let it stop me. What needs to be done needs to be done. I hold the large knife over her little body. Her night light bouncing off the side of the steel. She giggles and reach for the knife raised above her. This has to be done I tell myself. I try to begin to bring the knife down on her. One blow, one quick motion to the chest I plan. The knife stops its decent. My arms stop motionless. Tears flowing down my face. I struggle to drive the knife any further. I can’t move any further despite all my trying. It is like someone is standing behind me holding me back. My shoulders, my elbows, my arms feel as if they will burst as I fight the invisible force. “It has to be done,” I scream into the night. “It has to be done,” I beg the invisible force. “It has to be done.” It is her that is stopping me. Her glowing eyes and demonic smile. I fight her for as long as I can, but I am too weak even for a child. I feel my arm snap against my will and I scream out in agony. Against my own will my right hand grips the knife handle. Somehow she gets me to place the blade at my throat. “Please don’t,” I beg her, but what are words to an infant? She smiles at my suffering. Same as before. Same as always. “It was only an accident. A lapse of faith due to a lack of sleep. I didn’t mean to do this. If you’d just let mommy sleep then I could think straight. I wouldn’t even dream of doing this,” I try to reason with her. The knife press harder against my throat. “I didn’t mean it,” I say one last time. She giggles as the knife gently slides across my throat by my own hand. I should be grateful to die, but I fear what awaits me on the other side. Blood spraying all over her little body with every beat of my heart. I fear what awaits everyone I leave behind. No one will know what is still left to be done. No one is going to know what a mother knows. This child, this demon will grow and more innocent people will die. The feeling in my mind escapes me as everything in front of me begins to slip in and out. Her laughter only growing louder as I black out. “Someone needs to destroy you,” I try to say, but it is too late.

I wake up screaming in my bed. “Someone needs to destroy you,” I hear myself shout. Startling my husband from a dead sleep. My hands fight the nothing that surrounds me until he takes a hold of them. “Suzanne it is only a dream. Wake up,” He says to me. “The baby,” I scream hysterical. “There is no baby,” He screams back at me in shock rather than anger. “Calm down,” he says to me. I try to relax. Think of where I am, but I can’t shake the feeling. “The baby,” I say again. “There is no baby sweetheart. You aren’t even pregnant,” He says as he lets go of my hands. He takes a deep breath, “It was only a nightmare Suzanne.” I rub my bare stomach. “No, it wasn’t. I need to get it out of me before it is too late,” I say calmly. “Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?” He asks me. “Even if it were true. Why in the hell would we get rid of it? As long as we have been trying? There is no way we are getting rid of a miracle baby,” He says to me annoyed. “It needs to be done,” I say staring into his eyes. “This is no miracle. This thing inside me is a curse,” I say to him. “You aren’t even pregnant,” he shouts in frustration. “A mother knows,” I whisper to myself. A mother knows.

Paperback books now available for all three books from Amazon… click the link below to find out more… More news to come at a later date… Hope all is well…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents… Education In Absolution…

“Between one doctor to another I don’t really see how what I’m convicted for was really wrong,” the old man shifts in his chair. “That is why you have been placed under my care here rather than facing the death penalty someplace else,” the middle aged man says from across the table. “Do you think what happened was wrong?” The older man asks. “Are you asking if your actions are wrong or the act of what happened was wrong? Because what transpired on December eighth of last year is nothing short of fascinating,” the doctor closes the file in front of him. “I was only trying to train them in the procedures of the class,” the old man smiles from ear to ear. “They were basically children Dr. Kreleason,” the doctor stands up. “It is such a beautiful day outside. We should take a walk around the grounds no use wasting it sitting in here,” the doctor suggests. The old man stands up and takes a small bow, “After you.” The doctor smiles, “No, I insist. Age before beauty of course.” The old man walks out the door, “Of course but with age comes intelligence.”

The sun beats down on the two men as they walk on the edge of the court yard. “Modern medicine is so barbaric,” the old man says with no prompt. “Is that why you did what you did?” The doctor asks. “No, medicine has always been barbaric. I was simply trying to teach them what they should have already have known. I was trying to teach them a lesson,” the old man looks up to the sky. “I’d hardly believe allowing your students to perform open heart surgery on one another while under the influence of hallucinations a lesson. Let alone entertaining. So, your smile seems vastly inappropriate,” the doctor says. “I was smiling at the sky. You don’t remember or know how beautiful it is until you can’t see it anymore. Until it is hidden away from you like a lost treasure. I was smiling at the simplicity’s of life. But obviously you weren’t there doctor because had you have been there you would have found it most entertaining. I know for a fact that the ones the survived found it very entertaining,” the old man turns his attention back to the doctor. “I find that very hard to believe,” the doctor quips.  The two men stop at one end of the court yard standing face to face. “Believe it or not doesn’t change the facts of what I witnessed that day. Besides how could you or anyone else for that matter not find the situation the least bit hysterical? I warned those students well ahead of time that failing my class would have grave circumstances,” Kreleason laughs deeply with an almost howling effect. The sounds of birds flapping their wings surrounds them.

“What I don’t understand is how you got those students to perform the procedures voluntarily. I understand why you are laughing at the sick thoughts of what you did. I’ve interviewed enough of you monsters to know why. But those students were the head of their class. Straight A students and you got them to hack each other up like it was an everyday thing,” the doctor stands there confused. “The hallucinations help Doctor, but the rest? You really think that was that hard to accomplish? They were fucking sheep. I could have told them in order to pass my class you’d have to rape the person next to you and once one did it they would all follow suit. Could have turned that classroom into a full on orgy of deceit, but that is simple minded. Where is the fun in that? The hallucinations were nothing but a fun game. The real lesson in all of this. I knew what the outcome of their behavior was before it even began, but to prove it? That was satisfaction,” the old man states before starting to walk again. “Sheep? That’s the best way to describe your students? Those students?” The doctor asks. “That is the best way to describe this whole generation of students. They do as they are told and the ones that don’t are so deep in the gutter that they don’t even matter,” the old man boasts. “Are you referring to your cadaver victims from early lessons? I hesitate to call them lessons but a lack of a better word leads me to call them that,” the doctor muses out loud. 

“Victims? You really see them as victims to my lessons? They were victims of a broken society before I found them. They were helpless before I gave them a purpose. They served a better purpose helping science then they would have otherwise. Tell me doctor do you have a problem with my methods of thinning the herd or do you have a problem with me? I haven’t been able to figure that out yet,” the old man challenges the doctor. The doctor ignores the question. “Those helpless people had families. They had lives before you ripped them apart. What about them?” The doctor asks him. “It really is a pity we couldn’t have dissected them as well, but we wouldn’t want people to think I was disturb in anyway,” the old man smiles. “Because murdering people undeserved of punishment is a normal every day occurrence?” The doctor fires back. “You act as though they didn’t volunteer. You act as if I went out into the night hunting victims for my own personal gain. They came to me. They wanted something from me and I from them. They were little more than transaction, interactions between two willing parties,” Kreleason explains. “You are sick. Truly disturbed in your thoughts and actions. It is truly fascinating the way you think,” the doctor says.

“Now you are getting it. I like to think that my goal here on Earth is to enlighten those around me. We all must have a goal. A purpose. For so long I didn’t know my own purpose and then I found it. Tell me doctor have you found yours?” The old man asks. “I thought I had, but now I know for sure. Maybe I knew all along or maybe you convinced me. I’m unsure of that. But what I do know is that there is no justice for monsters like you. There is no lesson in absolution. There is so little to learn from the nature of evil. Broken is the best and only way to describe people like you,” the doctor says into the air. “Unhinged, we are unhinged doctor. From reality and responsibility. The clock ticks and it tocs, but it never stops. Tell me doctor do you know who you are? Do you know where you are? Do you know what you have become? How is it that we even got here?” They look up to the sky once more. A voice in the distance cuts through the silence, “This is Thompson I found him in the court yard, over.” The security guard walks up slowly and speaks in a soft voice, “Dr. Kreleason if you could please come with me. Nice and easy. No one else needs to get hurt.”

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

From the Journal of the Devil

Aug. 13th, 2009
I just witnessed yet another one of those late night infomercials. I must get it. The item in question is a pizza cutter that makes the perfect slices every time. This beauty goes by the name the Perfect Slice. So simplistic I love it. For the low, low price of $9.99 plus shipping and handling, I could be cutting my way to pizza heaven. How could I go wrong? Worst case scenario it becomes another prop I can use to frighten my victims will. I could raise the scissor-like device and threaten to cut little triangles out of their ball sack. The applications would be limited when it comes to actual torture. I’m sure that it can’t cut too deeply through the skin and there is no way it is getting through bone. Though if I modify it with a better hinge it could have the potential to do more damage, but then I’m into it for way more than the asking prices. There is also its basic function of cutting pizza and that could be helpful at a dinner party. I’m excited at the possibilities, but I don’t think it can live up to my last late night purchases. The Tri-Saw which has to be the most amazing device I have ever purchased. I really couldn’t ask for a better product. Three counter spinning blades rotating at 5500 mps gets my dick hard just thinking about it. This amazing saw can cut through most metals with ease once you purchase the Cut Anything replacement blades. Which of course I purchased because when you need to cut through a bone you want a perfect cut every time. Also, the stability of the Tri-Saw is second to none. There’s no jerking or pulling like there is with most saws. Plus it is handheld and portable. The miter saw I was using before was just too bulky and awkward. Not to mention loud and there are only so many new house projects I can lie about before the neighbors realize I haven’t fixed a thing. But with the Tri-Saw there is barely any noise. It does, however, lack a proper guard which can make quite the mess out of dismembering a body. But with this hobby, it seems to be unavoidable anyways and nothing a well-manufactured tarp can’t handle. There is nothing like it in on the market today. The Tri-Saw gets my seal of approval like my other great purchases such as the All in One Super Blending Unit, Soil Extraordinaire, Fantastic Flavor Inserter, and the Dangler Tomato Planter. While other products can be utilized beyond their intended purpose. The Soil Extraordinaire is for pure entertainment. Soil Extraordinaire was designed to feed water into plants as they need it. A reserve reservoir for those long business trips or the lazy ass who couldn’t be bothered to water their plants. It has the quite opposite effect if the product is stabbed into the whore’s neck. Granted some of the blood does make its way into the small hand-blown globe that acts as the reservoir, but this is mostly due to the pure force of the blood coming from their neck. The best technique is to enter at an angle so that the blood has a better chance of actually doing this. Then in order to save the blood from spilling all over the place, I have to gently remove the Soil Extraordinaire from the victim’s neck, and flip it so that the sharp end is pointing up. There is a real art to it all. Though if I am feeling lazy it is much easier to fill the product the old fashion way with a knife and a small incision. Either way works, but then I can take and put the blood filled globes in any potted plant that I have around the house. The blood doesn’t help them in any way. In fact, it mostly destroys them over time. Too much iron in the blood maybe? Really their only purpose is for me to have a discrete way of showing off my blood collection. Waste not want not. Plus there is something about having incriminating evidence stashed around the house that really gets me going. A major drawback to the Soil Extraordinaire is that the cheap shitty glass breaks way too easily. I have to make sure I stab the stem of the Soil Extraordinaire perfectly into the bitch’s neck or it snaps off into a million tiny little pieces on her collarbone. All of this creates an insidious mess that I have to clean up later. It took a reasonable amount of practice and quite a few Soil Extraordinaire to perfect the whole technique. The first girl I must have stabbed her at least six times before I got it to work. That’s about thirty-five dollars in globes alone. This is where the added value comes kicking in. At five dollars a globe it is much cheaper to replace the Soil Extraordinaire than it is to use quality materials. But even if the stem breaks or the globe itself, not all is lost because I can still use the leftover pieces to stab randomly all over their body. Another fun trick that I like to do whenever I’m not in a poetic blood and flowers kind of mood is to take the blood filled globes and smash it over their head. If their mouth isn’t gagged, neighbors on vacation, I like to watch as the blood slowly makes its way into their mouths. They pit and choke as they try to find a way to get it out, but more and more as the little shards stick out of their foreheads. The scene turns quite hilarious if left alive for a long enough time as they begin to vomit up their own blood all over themselves. The All in One Super Blending Unit on the other hand is a wonderful device from top to bottom. The name could have used some work, but it does do everything it promises and more. It really isn’t something I like to use during playtime but afterwards is a whole other thing. To quote the online website, “The units unique shape design circulates food with so much force and speed that it can do any job in 5 seconds or less.” So impressive. In the case of cooked human flesh this amazing little device can chop, dice, or mince me into flavor heaven in not one, not two, not even four seconds, but just three seconds. For the perfect human topping on nachos, in omelets, or to just sprinkle in my mouth. This little fucking machine even comes with a cookbook for other great recipe ideas. Of course I have to just replace parts of the recipe with cooked human pieces. Marinating chunks of human used to be a real bitch before one extraordinary night I came across the Fantastic Flavor Inserter while using the All in One Super Blending Unit to prepare my favorite midnight snack, human quesadillas or hum dillas as I like to call them. I had the Fantastic Flavor Inserter operator in stitches with a story about one of my many horrible attempts at making the perfect garlic “chicken.” Luckily for me the operator was laughing so hard she couldn’t hear the moans of some stupid bitch I brought home that night. Let’s just say she never got to enjoy the Fantastic Flavor Inserter like I have or the sunrise on that particular morning. I however did get to enjoy that amazing sunrise and I must say there is nothing more enjoyable than a brain shake at dawn. I haven’t been able to find a useful purpose for the Dangling Tomato planter, but it does grow very tasty tomatoes in just a few short weeks.

 

Postscript of the Unimaginative

“The world shatters around me. Falling shards of a broken mirror reflecting all the past actions of my life. Regret is something that can only happen after everything is said and done. How I wish I could take them all back, but I can’t. Each broken shard plunges into me and through all the pain. Through all the despair all I have left is tears and regrets. Open wounds that will never heal and maybe that is for the best. I’ve wasted too much time already on what if. Maybe now is the time to move on from all the pain and anguish. I’m not trying to justify my sins or the things I have done. I am only trying to move on, take credit for the things that I have done. In the past where they should stay. Stealing, robbing, threating, and who knows what else can’t be undone. Maybe it is time I told my tale. Confessed my part in everything that has unfolded in all these years. Maybe it is time.” The cold barrel presses against the back of his head.

Laying in a pool of his own blood the words fade away into nothing. No one leaves this world the way they envision. You either leave willingly shitting yourself until it is your time or you get put down like a dog. Rabid useless monster you never knew you’d become. Turn states evidence. Turn up dead. You signed the contract before it was written. One in the same. Only one of us was stupid enough to try and live. The other as stupid as the day we met. The point is to keep your mouth shut.

“Your debt is paid. You have proved your loyalty,” his voice as grime as the day we were introduced. “What does that mean?” I ask him. “You are free,” he smiles. I stare into his eyes. The gun still heavy in my hands. A weight that I can’t understand. “Like I asked. What does that mean?” He never blinks only stares back at me with those cold dead eyes, “It means that you and I never need to see each other again. Your husband’s debt is paid. We will take care of the rest.” I refuse to look away. Gripping the pistol tighter. My husband’s blood still splattered against my face. “Unless you would care to join him?” He asks me as though the question is really an option. I know as soon as I turn my back he will kill me. My husband told me everything about this man, this monster. Never trust a monster. “You going to stand there all night?” he asks me. Slowly I back away from him. Making my way towards the door. I want to speak, but it is only a waste of words. I back into something heavy. It doesn’t move as I step away from it. “You know I could use someone like you. A cold-hearted woman such as yourself,” he states. The heavy figure grabs me from behind “I know I could find a good use for her,” the heavy figure says into my ear. I know better than to struggle. The gun still in my hand, “I want no part of what you are selling.” He finally looks away waving his hand as he does. The figure lets me go. “I think you do,” he states. “I think you are at least curious to what I have to offer you,” he pulls a contract from his jacket pocket.

“You think of me as a monster and you are right. But it goes much deeper than that. I don’t care that your husband went to the authorities. Doesn’t even matter. None of this even matters. You taking my offer or not doesn’t even matter,” he picks up the pen from my husband’s desk. “We both know that it is too late for you to take another path. You’ve already chosen in fact. So this can end in only one way. Work for me. Replace your weak husband as one of my own,” his eyes light up and smoke pours out of his mouth. “What about my children?” I ask the monster. “They are already gone. As I stated before you are free. One last parting gift from your dearly departed husband,” he laughs in a cold methodical tone. I raise the weapon at the desk. He stops his laughing and stares me down once again. I fire two bullets into the back of my husband. The anger of all that I lost shaking me to the core. He doesn’t even blink, doesn’t move at the sound of the gun discharging. “Where do you want me to sign,” I sigh.

Suffering Through This

“I feel like things are getting increasingly worse. I am no longer myself or not as much or I don’t know. I don’t believe in angels or demons, but the nightmares, the dreams, the visions. The visions have been so surreal as of late. The absent, the loss of time has become confusing. I no longer understand what is happening to me. I fear for the worst inside of me and for my family. I see them burning. Each and every one of them. Burning layer by layer until there is nothing left but their skulls and their laughter. It sounds like my voice, it sounds like something ungodly. The laughter rages with the fire as if it saying something or maybe it is just their screams. Please help me. Help me before it is too late. Help before they are no longer dreams.”

Sincerely,

Steven Kleine

“Three days after this letter was sent Mr. Kleine and his family burned to death in their family home. The investigators say their deaths were similar by all accounts to his dreams or visions as he calls them. Each one was written in vivid description found in what was labeled confession letters. The house as a whole still stands today. The fire contained to one room and one room only. No reason for this has ever been turned up. Fire doesn’t care about anything, but it appears on this night it did. Mr. Kleine has been blamed for this atrocity, but should he be? Is the question I present to you today. Yes, young lady in the cardigan,” the professor calls out.

“You want to know if he is at fault for his actions?” She asks. “Yes, Did Mr, Kleine  commit murder willingly or was it something else?” The professor asks once again. “We have to go with the facts, sir. The fact that he killed his family by not saving them is true. Premeditated murder wouldn’t be that far from the truth as well judging by the letter you have presented. Willingly, however, is a much harder question to determine. I would say no he didn’t, but he still did. He murdered his family whether he wanted to or not,” she answers. He waits for anyone else to raise their hand. No one is willing to challenge her statement. “You are right it doesn’t matter in the sense of the law. Ethically though does it matter that the person to receive this last latter was the local police station? Does it matter that they did nothing other than file it way as a joke? How much blame can be put on them? How seriously should we take cries for help when it comes to mental illness?” He points at a young man in the third row, “We should take it very seriously, but when does a story become fact? After it already happens. The police had no reason to believe that any of this would happen.” The professor  nods his head, “Then let’s talk about facts.”

“In his dreams, Mr. Kleine only saw the room burning, his family burning, and he himself burning. He doesn’t go into detail about which room these visions take place. Given he only saw fire around him it would be hard to determine this information. Yet throughout the detailed accounts he never experienced or wrote about his death. He only wrote about the death of his family and the burning of the room. To this day no one knows why only the room burned. There was no reason, there was no incendiary device or substance used, and there was no faulty wiring. The Kleine family simply caught on fire and as his family burned he tried to put them out while they laughed hysterically. In fact, the only reason investigators decided that Mr. Kleine caught on fire is because he was trying to help them. Isn’t that right Mr. Kleine ?” A man or what is left of a man walks in from the back of the lecture hall, “Yes sir that is correct.”

He slowly makes his way up to the front of the class. His skin rigid and pressed tightly against his bones, “I tried everything I could to save my family. Though none of it worked. I was found guilty by reason of insanity of course. No one could explain what had happened. Deemed insane I spent quite a few years in an asylum. Until my visions became more about something other than myself.” The professor helps him onto the stage, “Well, then I wasn’t so crazy. Then I became known as someone who was gifted. I became someone special. My family’s death haunts me every day. I see their faces and I hear their screams, but something converged on that night. Something lives inside me. Something that no one understands not even myself. But that is not why I am here is it Miss Greenwood?” The girl in the cardigan drops her pen onto her notebook. Flustered she tries to respond, “I don’t know what you mean sir.” More people enter the hall dressed in tactical gear as a silence takes over the room. “I believe that you don’t, but I know that you will,” Mr. Kleine lays out cryptically. The tactical team surrounds her. “Please come with us Miss Greenwood,” the lead asks. She sits there silently making her decision. She tries to reach for her bag but she is ordered to stop. Knowing she has no other options but to comply she rises from her chair like a burning phoenix.  Flames spitting all around her, “You had to come and get me, Steven. You had to be the hero.”

The room begins to panic as she rises higher into the air. “You know that this is what I do. You knew that I was coming for you and yet you made sure things would be difficult,” Kleine says. The tactical team has their guns trained on her. Even though all the flames surrounding her the laser sites of their weapons can be seen resting on her head and throughout her body. They wait for a signal, for a sign. “You pretend to understand the vastness of the world you stumbled into. I was born with these flames. A gift upon which I was destined to attain. I will not have it taken away from me,” she screams with fiery breath.  “No one said anything about taking your gifts away,” he says to a nearly empty room. “In fact, I think your gifts could be quite useful if you would like to join us.” The flames flicker around her, “Enslavement is more like it. I’ve heard what you are doing. You thought you were being coy. I knew right away there was more to all of this than a simple lesson,” she lets out. “Would have been disappointed if you didn’t know. Wouldn’t have even let you live for a second longer, but I also know how this ends. Not all gifts are created equal or fair,” he stares into her eyes. Her anger causes her to discharge a wave of flames as she burns hotter the team begins to feel the full force of her powers.

“We can help you control those powers,” He begins to say. “I don’t need your help,” she conveys her clothes telling a different story as they begin to singe. “Unless it is your intent to ruin that cardigan then I think we could be some use to you. Come down from there peacefully and we can discuss what I am offering,” he reasons. She places her head within her hands as she descends back to the floor the lasers following her as she goes. “So my options are death or join you? You leave a woman with little choice, but to go with you,” she says as her feet touch the ground and her flames slowly dissipate. “It would appear that way, but not all intentions are good. Not everything I have to do is for the benefit of myself. Something you will have to learn in time,” Mr. Kleine states. She screams and as she does a burst of flames engulf her once again. The tactical team around her is surrounded by flames. They pull their triggers, each bullet ripping through their predestined entry point. Tearing through her flesh, desecrating her skull, and what is left of her body falls to the floor. “The fucking visions are never wrong,” Mr. Kleine says as he limps out of the auditorium past her lifeless corpse. The team follows him out one by one without a word.

 

Will this be a series?… hard to tell… has the makings of one though… so that is something… Hope you enjoyed this weird tale of murder or a negotiation gone wrong… flames.. burning.. fire… seemed to be the theme of this one… Join us next week as we discuss the importance of water… 

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In a Cage

 

“Do you ever notice the diseases floating all around you? Going in and out of your lungs, landing on your face, or picked up by your hands as you touch random objects for pleasure without knowing the consequences? Of course, you don’t just like you don’t notice the center for disease shitting in your backyard or laying on your lap as they breathe, droll, and paw all their sickness all over you. Think I didn’t notice the hairs? Thought you got all of them when you left the house today? Wrong. Nobody wants to admit, no I’m sorry no one wants to accept that they are surrounded by disease. But they must and they should. Germs, disgust is everywhere. Goddammit, it’s everywhere throughout our bodies, on our clothes, across every surface, and I say it is time that we get rid of it. How can we not have gotten rid of it all by now?”

“Are we not civilized? Are we not able to travel to distant planets in sterilized space capsules? Yet here on earth in our own homes no less we live in disease, we live with this sickness and death. The madness of it all has long since taken me over, but why hasn’t it taken the world over? How can it not? How can these people stand to be around such filth every day of their lives? I can’t take it. I can’t stand for it any longer. I must find a way to stop the disease I thought to myself. I thought to myself long and hard until I found a way. I found a way to help everyone, but they called it sick. They called it crazy. It was nothing more than just a little bleach. A little bleach to stay alive never killed anyone. I only wanted to live don’t you see? Doesn’t anyone see what I have done? Don’t you see what I’ve discovered? I found a way to help them. Each and every one of them.”

“But no they didn’t want my help. They only see what they want to believe and that is the sickness. That is the disease taking over, rotting their brains, not mine. I was the normal one until they infected me with their problems, their diseases, and look at me now, sick. I have become sick, riddled with disease, overcome by their sickness.” He smashes his head into the shatter proof glass of his cell. Blood begins to drip from his head. “I’ve begun to lose sight of what is real of what will keep me alive. I wanted to live forever, but you, they took it away. I want my fucking bleach doctor. I need my god damn bleach.” Blood begins to smear on the glass as he smashes his head into the glass over and over. “They took my chance of any kind of life away. Now I am waiting to die. Waiting to die inside my cage.” He slams his head once again into the glass. Pressing his head into the glass. Blood slowly makes its way down the glass as his eyes come into focus. His eyes wide, insane, “Still want to know how I am doing today, Doctor?”

 

Don’t forget to wash your hands… flu season isn’t over yet… or is it?… I’m not really tracking it… so I’m not sure… just be safe and wash your hands or… who knows… you may end up like Freddy… Covered in filth… and Chewing on Glass… In the Twilght Zone… (eerie noise… he have a low-budget here at Is That A Funeral?)

Also don’t forget to check out these other great links and how to’s to staying clean…

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Broken Thoughts

Another shitty night bleeds into another subconscious day
Locked into nothing at all, fight to stay awake
Breaking bones to stay in the game with no goal
If only I had known the rules might not have tried at all
Gave it away for nothing at all, Giving it away
A cause and effect of a generation gone by
The words change but they always mean the same thing
Killing the weak to prove I’m strong for no reason at all
Another shitty week produces yet another worthless year
Feel the time pass without doing anything in between the seconds
Fighting with myself, against myself for reasons unknown
The rules were etched in stone, lost in time
Dictating how we live or not at all
The words make no sense but always mean the same thing

“Lost and Walking in Place Become Adolescent, Immature”

Gave up on my dreams to settle for anything
Wrong turn or in the process
What’s the difference if you aren’t willing to try
Sitting in the dark amongst the shadows
A homeless mind with too many responsibilities
Clutching to all the broken dreams
A shattered reality pieced together
This was to be my only way out
Now I’m searching for a reason
To not end it all
Suicide used to be the fuel
Now it is only the fire
Burning myself alive for what
Sacrificing myself to an unholy satisfaction
Give in is to die but I’ve been dead for so long
Retrospective and digging at the past
Need an answer and no religion isn’t it
Faith in anything isn’t cutting it anymore
Need someone to have faith in me
Though what I need always seems to be the wrong thing
Drug against the grain, maybe I have gone insane

Not cold enough to snow, Cold enough to realize I can die
Think it is forever, life is a short amount of time
Lasting forever is an immortal thought left to the damned
Heaven is a lost idea of freedom, Heaven is nothing more than a tool
Conditions will not improve until we improve them
Always waiting for someone, someone to fix the problem
Our own salvation lost in the lazy complications we create
Bleed for your freedom, stop believing in imaginary things
Die for the things you want, Do you still want them for the threat
The threat of losing it all is it worth it for nothing at all
Heaven is a place on earth, Hell sowed right beside it
Choices are made with or without your consent
Decide which side you stand on