This Might Be A Thing Now

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For the last two weeks now I have been talking about books and saying how I have X many titles to recommend. So far it has only been two and I wanted to do another one this week or at least try to do more than one. But yeah fuck that. Lets talk about film.

Movies, cinema, and film are a huge part of my creative process. I see my stories as scenes in a movie with a soundtrack, a camera angle, and everything that goes with it. I visualize everything in this way about writing. Often to come up with a story I listen to a song. With each action falling in sync with the music. For most if not all of my stories I start of with the music video version of a story. How would I tell this story with no words?

I came up with an amazing video concept for the song Fineshrine by Purity Ring. Amazing track if you haven’t heard it. No offense to the creators of the video, but it sucked. Mostly because it wasn’t my idea filled with gangsters, hip hop references, and a badass angel/demon. I want to tell you more, but honestly I need the story idea. How does this relate to film? It doesn’t.

What I want to talk about, about film is the film makers that inspire me. Early Kevin Smith, Quentin Tarantino, and George A. Romero. There are plenty more, but those are the main three that actually inspired me as a writer. Parallels there being that they are also the writers for most if not all of their films.

Mallrats had a huge impact on me as a child growing up. Wait fucking Mallrats?? Yeah Mallrats. Clerks, Chasing Amy, and Dogma are amazing films filled with some of the finest dialogue ever written.  But at thirteen Clerks is boring as fuck. Mallrats on the other hand is fun and there is nudity… So win?

Honestly I don’t know why I latched on to this movie at a young age, but I did. As an adult I enjoy it for Smith’s ability to link all these characters into a world connected by words rather than shots. It gives you something more to look for beyond what you are seeing right before your eyes. I like that and try to implement this concept into a lot of stuff that I do.

Guess why I like Tarantino films? Because the writing is so fucking good. Tarantino has come a long way as a writer which is crazy to say. Kill Bill is a masterpiece. Jackie Brown is such an amazing film with one of the best soundtracks I’ve ever heard. But neither of these films really shaped me as a writer. Not in the way that Reservoir Dogs shaped me. Being honest it isn’t my favorite film by him. Not even by a long shot, but what had an impact on me at a young age was his ability to tell a story with so little.

Tarantino’s talents lie in his ability to show you something you’ve seen a billion times and blow your fucking mind. Reservoir Dogs is a heist movie. Cool, but it isn’t. It is a movie about people who are in a heist. It is a movie about people. Reservoir Dogs showed me that I could write an amazing story about a heist gone wrong or I could write an epic story about people in a fucked up situation. What I took from him was that it is okay to base a story in clichés, but don’t make that the story. Make the people in the clichés the story.

The late great George A Romero… This one is going to seem like a cop-out, but it’s George A Romero. Need I say more? Okay fine. Dawn of the Dead (1978) is my favorite movie of all time. I own ever version of this film on VHS, DVD, DVD Special Collectors edition, and Blu-Ray. I have seen every cut of this film. I can watch the extended edition and the European edition, and tell you where he made his cuts. At this point I can tell you why he did and argue why he shouldn’t have. I used to watch this movie daily. Nothing on? Nope Dawn of the Dead was on. As a kid in high school I covered my walls with the script. I don’t mean a scene or two. The whole damn thing in order. I would read along to the movie or even other movies. I’ve been to the mall where it takes place…. Why on earth they updated I have no idea. It saddened me to an ungodly end. But it was still a fun trip if you like being disappointed and crushing your fantasy of it all….

I love the Dead series, but it is all about Dawn for me. The film is perfect in again telling this fantasy story about people. A zombie movie with little to do with zombies. They literally have it made. The whole worlds going to shit and they are living the life. Free to consume while the whole world is dying. They are the 1% in a world of nothing, but it is all fleeting. Because the world is always coming for you. The chaos of life will get you. No matter how much you plan, how safe you think you are, or strong. They’re coming to get you…

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Something Very Different (Vulgar)

The Saint and the Beast

Don’t remember the time or place
Who am I to be naming names
A stench so thick it takes me away
Down the rabbit hole of no return
Left bleeding and I need more
Broken nose, used whore
The alcohol has never been out of time
Sucking the blood up through a make shift straw
I am everything if I am nothing at all
Fuck you until you are here
This hurts more than the emptiness
Trying to be me is nothing more than instinct
Another day, another one until I find God
Only know I was him all along
The saint and the beast since the dawn of time
The need is more than I could anticipate
Everything that moves is a target
For my hate, discuss among my selves
A gutter of broken dreams
Lost emotions and potential
Born into this world the same as every one else
Trapped door exit is all I’ve been destined for

 

Holding Back is For the Old Me

Slowly I know the blood will lead to an exit
An exodus on a holy level
Time is running out, speeding it up to feel anything at all
Fuck this broken angelic existence
An oil drum of body parts
A spark of thought about what to do next
Hell will only be warmer in time
A warm place warmed by the fire in my heart
Deep dicking a topless corpse
Can you feel every inch of me
My depravity knows no ends
It’s only a sin if you let it be

Breaking down the walls that once closed me in
The rules don’t mean shit unless you let them
Reborn in the fires of hell your sins have become my home
Hiding in the darkness of the mind
The time has come for me to rise
Held back for way too long
Everything deserves a chance to suffer
Had to have known that all along

 

Believe it or not I actually took a whole line out of the first one for being too vulgar. I guess I do have a limit. Then again it wasn’t a very good line. Had to change the end of the last one too. So that explains the weak ending. It is better than the original ending. It was one of those moments as a writer where you write something down and then a week later you have no idea what the hell you wrote. Might just be me. My hand writing is somewhere between a drunk and a child. Maybe even a drunk child. Time takes its toll on all writing though. Still like to write the old fashion way with pen and paper. Might be why it takes me so long to write anything? Well the candles are burning down so it is time once again for me to retire to my crypt. Until next time….

The Undamned Preview

The people around me think they know me, a caricature of my formal self. Days into nights, nights turn into days. Like a cigarette I am burning down and the ashes of what I once was fall to the ground. They sway with the wind as if doing a dance in front of me. Always out of reach, always out of touch. I feel humanity slip away never sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Humanity has been lost for ages. Kindness replaced by with greed and anger. No one truly cares about one anther unless something can be gained. Not sure if that is something new or something I’ve only grown to notice. Nothing more than dollar signs in the eyes of the rich. We feed off of so much pain. The hurting of others drives our entertainment from movies to music. I can not say that I am immune or that I am better than my people. I pay into the violence, I tune into the destruction, and I listen to the anger, and I let it fill me. I allow all of these things just as you do. Just as the public roars for more as if the world has become one large Roman Coliseum. The times they haven’t changed in the thousands of years since. Maybe the violence, the decay is in our genetic code. Attached to each chromosome as if the most important of all our traits. Even the bible, religion the simplest of ideas has been corrupted by the violence of man. The end used to be much simpler but we got more violent more destructive so we attempted to make it better. We introduced the idea of heaven and hell to try to curb the violence but it only spread the idea quicker. It used to be enough to think that when you died you would only reflect on the parts of your life that were good or bad. If you lived a good life a life of right over wrong you would only relive those memories over and over for all eternity. If you chose wrong than you thought about wrong for the same amount of time. It kept peace for a time but the idea that you would only be judge on the actions you take was not enough control for others. In comes heaven and hell. You either follow what we say or you are forever damned. Simple idea only who makes these decisions of right and wrong? Stories told to teach man humanity used to justify the violence of many lead to a darker time than many could have envisioned. We corrupt ideas so we can pretend to not crave the violence but deep down we do. We talk of helping our fellow-man but in the end we only want to see them fall. We enjoy the need to help others but only for a minute then we question what we are really doing. We want to see them suffer. We want to know that in some way it was us that made them suffer a cycle that is not immune to our very selves. If we save one we have to save a million. The commitment of it all is too much to handle. So we revert, picking off each other one by one. Thinning out the herd until there are only those that think like us. But everyone’s different and they all want different things. The only thing we can seem to agree on is the violence of it all as a whole. The destruction of all our hard work, all our sacrifice, so we can watch it all fall. We advance so in the end we have something to tear down. Humanity is lost in the downward spiral of destruction and greed. Humanity has been lost since the dawn of time. We are no better now than in the days of the cave men we just think we are. War spreads our ideas with the religious text we hold as true. The truth to brutal to take in we pretend that this idea, this want is nothing more than fiction. But we know what it is that we do.   I’m not here to preach to you about man or salvation or sell you on the sanctity of the bible. I’m here to tell a story because in the end I’m as selfish as you.

Where to begin? Middle is always interesting, gives me the option to go back and forth throughout the story. Creating an air of mystery over the overall time line. Though the beginning allows me to not lose track of the facts or where it was that I last left off. Starting at the end though is so cliche that the very idea makes me sick. The options are there, but the facts are not all straight. Because the story is still happening though I foresee an ending that is not all too bright. Could be the violence of it all. The story may come to a close, but the tale is only the beginning.

My life is not an open book with fascination around every corner. No my life is boring, obsolete, pointless with a twist. Though I may speak as if I am like you, act much of the same, proclaim we are equals we are not. I am far above you yet so very below you that my existence goes unnoticed for all of my life. I was not born into money, but I have more than I’ll ever care to spend. Once you reach a point in your life you will either understand what I mean or forever be lost in the rat race of hunger and greed. No, no money in my past and an endless supply in my future. This no more defines me than the traits I was born with. A confidence over time is the only thing any man needs. Though for some time doesn’t seem to be an infinite. Confidence will propel anyone into the spot or class or image they choose to perceive. Confidence proves to people you know what you are doing even if you do not. It should always be taken with a grain of salt however, because confidence will get you in more trouble than them all. I am merely an idea brought on to this world to live among you. I am the purest of them all yet I am the darkness. I feed the decay and I join the chant as if I am one of you but never forget that I am not. You may already know who I am or pass me daily. I’m as silent as the night but louder than any one person should be. I grow tired of the riddles, of deceit, time to begin this tale of horror and suspense.

“Get up you dirty fuck!” A kick to the ribs greets me into this world. The pain is intense not from the kick but from deep within. It is as though I am breathing for the first time. It is as though my heart starts for the first time, but not. I want to scream but I catch the next attempt in my hands instead. Words don’t seem to come out right on my end. “Let go of my leg you freak!” The owner of the steel toe shouts. “I’m sick of you bums sleeping out here.” The man with trash bags in his hand informs me. I release his worn down boot, “I’m not sleeping.” “Really seems that way to me.” “I’m hurt. I need help, I think.” “Don’t we all?” The question is sarcastic yet sincere in so many ways. “I’m serious. I’m not sure where I am.” I try to explain from the ground too scared to make the move up. “Right, a shirtless gutter punk like yourself has no idea where he is. Maybe it’s time to lay off the needle buddy.” He puts the two bags of trash in the dumpster next to him. “The needle? Could that have done this to me?” I ask as if I expect a real answer. “Look I don’t care about your problems kid. Leave now or I’ll call the cops before beating your ass,” he finally demands. I get up, slowly at first. I may be confused as who or where I am, but for some reason I know I can take him. I don’t need any more trouble right at this moment. He stands on guard ready for anything as I pass him to get out of the alley onto the streets. I’m dizzy, but I’m stable as I wander down the street and try to remember.

Things seem familiar yet foreign as I walked the neon light filled streets. A cop stops next to me, but offers no assistance only advice, “We wear shirts around here boy.” I ask for help but he only walks off. Confused I wander the night. My chest still in pain, my legs hurt as if they are new, my body mine, but not the one I remember. The cold sets in, the cold that will never leave me as I wonder if I am really what that man said? A druggie? A Punk? “The times they are a changing.” I say out loud to a crowd street even at this hour. I may not know who I am, but deep down I know that this is only the beginning of things to come.

 

Mixing it up. This is the opening pages of my next novel. Still have a whole other book to put out, but who doesn’t like to jump the gun? The hope/plan is to have this book out sometimes next year. So I’m really jumping the gun here. Trying to motivate myself maybe? Unsure and yes I am aware that Undamned is not a word. It works though in the context of the story because… Well why is a secret so wait and see… 

In the mean time I have three other great options to pass the time and you can check them out here on Amazon…

 

 

Oh and apparently today is a holiday so happy holiday. If it isn’t where you live well I hope you have a great day none the less.

Broken Up Thoughts

The Things I Am

Shoveling the shit meal into the metal free cooking sleeve. I type in a minute and forty seconds into the radiation cooking machine. Not a second more and not a second less. By my meal you’d never guess that I wasn’t fat. My trash can however tells an entirely different story. My trash tells the story on an ever dying human being who is committing suicide in the open while being assisted by consumerism. Saddens me but then again I am American. This saddens me even more as an excuse for my actions but I’m human. But I am something enlighten by nothing.  I awaited the allotted cooking direction time before eating my prepared meal. Burning my taste buds in the process which is no more a bad thing as the food is good. I toy with the idea of making myself better or doing something of actual meaning. In reality though I’m just going to watch something on Netflix and await until I have to work again. This has become my life after high school. The life I am destined to die wide awake and out of control. The only variants being new updates to my current system or the next new and great product I can’t live without. Had a dream once but now I enjoy the soft warm glow that others make for me.

 

“You are so human. You cry for the devil, but when he shows up you cry foul as if you didn’t summon him in the first place. Take a side and keep with it. God damn indecisive mother fuckers.” Silence rings out behind the echoes of my last words. It sinks in that what I thought is what I said. I don’t regret a single word of it, but I know the shit storm is coming.

 

Past collide into a bloody mess
The thoughts leave me a tangled mass
Pray to a God that never forgives
But knows easily how to forget
The lord gives so much only to take it away
Finding faith in lies is hard enough
Throw a wrench like that in
See what we find
Earth spinning in a sea of nothing
A crisis of faith turns into a need
To not feel so lonely
Scared at the thought
Frightened by the touch

Another Wenesday another set of broken up thoughts left to dwell on. No real theme this week. Though that would appear to be the point of the day…. 

If you didn’t know my Novel A Lie is now available on Kindle.  I also have two other books available on there and through Kindle Unlimited. Check them out let me know what you think.

 

Chili Cinema And What We Are Doing

Land Of The Dead

Chewed on this for a bit too long, but this Saturday… Tomorrow… Little Fears, Weird Shit with Alex, I… Will be watching George A Romero’s Land of the Dead…  Thought you’d all like to know that…Oh and we will be live tweeting as we do it.. 

Starting at 9pm London (4pm U.S.) time… So check us out on Twitter… and or join us as we talk about our hopes and feelings…. The dreams that came and went…. Maybe a thing or two about blood and zombies… Honestly I’m not sure… Half the time I don’t even know what I am doing any more in this lost landscape of time… Okay I am being told to wrap it up… Now is not the time to get existential.. But tomorrow?.. Who knows…

We will be using a Service called Chili Cinema… You can rent or buy all kinds of movies… Check it out here… https://uk.chili.com/

Twitter Handles
Follow Weird Shit with Alex @SynBoomstick
Follow Little Fears @TheLittleFears 

Blog Handles? (What is this Hackers?)
Check out Little Fears: https://littlefears.co.uk/
Check Out Weird Shit With Alex: https://weirdshitwithalex.blog/

I thought about making every other word Bold just to fuck with you… So you are welcome… Also Girls Trip was available?? and we went with zombies?? Next time I’m picking the movie…

 

The Memorial Day Incident (Vulgar)

“Just a little bit further Jason I want to find a good spot for your first parade. We should have gotten here earlier,” the women increases the hold on her son’s hand as they pass through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops in the crowd to hear her son. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she still remembers like I do, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” Jason says. A look of horror comes across the mother’s face, “What are you talking about Jason?” “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” he asks. Ignoring his question she asks, “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” he says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young for that kind of language or to even know those words.” She looks both frightened and confused. “What words? What did I say? Are you mad at me?” Jason asks in rapid succession. The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.” “Can we go back to the car?” He asks once again. “I feel safer in the car,” he says to the asphalt. The woman puts him back on the ground and scan the area around them packed with people. “Yes, we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand into her. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to start rambling again as he slips past people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman who hears what he has to say. “What did he just say?” The stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger who grabs her. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he is, he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scared.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard of a kid just said to me that my dad liked to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. I ought a beat your little skinny ass because my dad’s a saint. Where do you get the nerve to teach your little mistake things like that and then convince him to tell complete strangers such rude things to their face?” The crowd around them grows quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mommy?” Jason shouts. “Because she is confused,” his mother says nervously and very afraid. She tries once again to walk off. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a little freak,” the stranger yells at her. “Like I said he is scared and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him,” she shouts over her shoulder. “I’m making it worse?” The stranger shouts after she chases after them. “I’ll show him what worse really is. Maybe it is something you should have shown him once or twice,” the stranger reaches out for Jason’s arm. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” A uniformed police officer asks as he grabs the stranger out reached hand. Jason’s mother turns to see who asks the question. Relief washes over her as she see the officer standing there. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me,” the stranger says red-faced. “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. Let’s let cooler head prevail and leave these nice people alone. He is only a child he probably doesn’t even know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say that you are sorry, and you and your lovely mother can go enjoy the rest of the parade?” Jason locks eyes with the police officer, “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less nigger? A better place.” The cop turns a lighter shade of pale. Transfixed on the boy’s eyes he is at a loss for words. “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. I never taught him to say that,” his mother scans the eyes of the crowd that has gathered. A look of horror and intrigue has come over the crowd. Ashamed Jason’s mother picks him up, “That’s enough.” The cop remains kneeling staring at the spot that once contained Jason’s face. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the officer. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even more somber as the officer stands up. “Told you that kid was a freak. Arrest them or something,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the officer shouts with all eyes on him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” he says while scanning the crowd for any form of sympathy. “Mom I want to go home. I’m scared,” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as he can as she begins to speak, “I’m going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and this has all been a very strange day.” The cop mortified doesn’t look up at her or to anyone as he speaks, “That is probably for the best.” Tears hit the pavement as they begin to walk away. The crowd stands in disbelief at what they have seen.

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. The crowd parts making sure to not touch them as they walk through. “That’s it?” The stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and stomping away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man near the back of the silent crowd Jason’s foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to the neighbors, but I’m starting to like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as the crowds eyes divert to him. Jason’s mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts. “Get that man.” The large man tries to get away but everyone around him refuses to move. “Move out of my way. I’ve done nothing wrong here,” the man says as he pushes against the crowd. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” The man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his radio. “Back up?” The man questions out loud. “There’s no need for back up. I didn’t do anything. I don’t even have neighbors,” the man becomes even more desperate as he pushes against the crowd. The officer pulls his gun from the holster, “Please put your hands behind you head.” The man stops pushing against the crowd, “Hey, watch it there trigger finger. I swear I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind getting down on the ground and putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again,” the officer shouts. “Okay so some crazy psycho fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The man shouts. “This is insane. If I even did what he alleges that I did than that means you shot an innocent man? You do realize that don’t you?” The officer doesn’t put down his weapon. The crowd is still silent as the people around the man slowly back away. Unaware of what is happening behind her Jason’s mother says, “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her by the throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter. “Fucking say it,” he screams in her face. The officer fires two rounds just as the man pulls her closer to himself. Both shots hit her dead center in the back. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry and scream as they disperse in all directions. Through the madness and the chaos someone screams, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another to your list.” Jason stands there frozen in shock and fear covered in his mother’s blood. The large stranger grabs Jason by the shoulders raising him high in the air as he begins to shake him. “Why did you do this you little shit?” He screams at the child. Bits of spit follow with every word. Jason begins to cry as he screams, “I sliced her open like a deer as I fucked her until I came. Over and over I am king.” “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he shakes him harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words only fall to the ground. “Another I fucked her in her tight little ass while she bleed out on my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laugh of a child. “Shut up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can. Jason fights to say something else, “I prefer to asphyxiate the special ones. There is something about watching the life in their eyes slowly die out as I fill them with the beginnings of another.” Too weak to move Jason dangles there as the man chokes him, “I said shut up you little bastard.” “Put him down or I will shot,” the officer tries again.  The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. He takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene only to see the bodies resting on the ground and a boy standing in the middle of it all.

“True fucking story,” I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t. “They even have a name for what happened even though most people back home like to pretend it never took place,” I say. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” A naive girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get 4G out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl proclaims. “Okay whatever I’ll put it in my phone and look it up later what was it called?” She takes out her phone. “What a fucking nerd,” a friend of my shouts out. Ignoring them all and in the most dramatic voice I can, “Its called the Memorial Day Incident.” A round of laughter begins around the fire. “What kind of fucking name for something is that?” Someone asks. “That story is such bull shit,” another says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you wanted to know?” My friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” my friend explains as he looks over at me. “I thought,” she begins to say. “Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

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….

Broken Up Thoughts

Her eyes twitch in the moon light. The reflective light from the sun dances across her retinas signifying the end of a once miserable life. The imprint of my rough hands forever left stained around her neck. She said she would always be mine and now despite everything that has happened before tonight the lie has become true. I will always remember our last seconds together as the life escaped from her. The bits of saliva that oozed from her dying lips to my hands. It is still warm as I wipe what’s left across my chest. Her hearts stopped pounding a second ago yet her fingers feel icy cold. The blue in her face makes her seem angel like. She looks as I will always picture her, isolating and unperceptive of her actions. She didn’t suffer enough. She didn’t struggle enough. I wanted her to feel pain. I wanted her to feel like I do. Instead she gave in to the truth, the fact that this was the end. She got the best of me once again.

 

I’m obsessed with hearts lately. Maybe because mine is so destroyed and shattered. I feel the loneliness wash over me, but I don’t understand what’s really going on. I mean I am alive after all, so what does it mean if I want to die? To disappear far away from here? Everyday is like the last four hundred, but I am sure I’m okay even if I believe that I am not. Life moves and goes at a constant speed. Everything is just a phase and I’m sure this one will pass. Same as the ones before. Nothing last forever.

 

“When you give up on your dreams it is like the rest of you has died away. You no longer want what becomes because you already know what will never be. It’s a sad existence from that point on. A pointless position in a line of every disappointing disappointment.”
“You done feeling sorry for yourself or should I go get a gun?”
“Totally not funny Gwen. Plus it takes a couple of days to get a permit.”
“I’ve got one on file just encase of situations like this.”
“You’re such an asshole.”

 

It is hotter than a crotch in this fucking place. I’m still very behind on putting together my office. Writing and working on this site, twitter, and two books at the same time will do that to some people. I’d love to just put all that aside and get this office finished, but no work, no need for this office. So I sit sweating it out in the hot, hot heat. Oh and it’s fucking fall… My ass… Drinking never helps this… What all the greats did it.. (Insert a great writer of your choice.) Peer pressure from the dead… 

Time to sell that soul.. So I want to put the word out on other people’s books as well, but I feel it is way to forward to just do it… So if you are cool with it let me know and I will add your book or project… Well here is more of my shit…