Brain Droppings

Ye Olde Purge Bucket

java_fiend — Sat, 25 Aug 2012 20:01:23 GMT

Two years ago today, I was sitting in a hotel room in Atlanta where I was working a show. pixiebelle was back here in So Cal where she was getting herself settled in after our epic journey across the country in the Mighty Focus with her incredibly large puppy dog who seemed to enjoy belching in my ear (the dog, not the girl) and her cat tucked safely away in her carrier. We'd trekked across some of the wastelands of this country but eventually made it out here. I reflected on that journey a little bit before I decided to ask her if she wanted to make things official between us. We were of course, already unofficially together but you know, it was a case of it not being "official" until it's "Facebook official" and all... because nothing in the world *really* happens until it's posted on Facebook.

So yeah... two years ago, pixiebelle foolishly agreed to make our relationship official and we've been together ever since. And it's been an amazing two years. She's an incredible woman filled with so much strength, courage, compassion and love. She picks me up when I'm down, encourages me to excel, to be better than I ever thought I could be and kicks me in the ass when I need it. She has brought more joy and happiness into my life than I ever thought possible and I'm grateful for every last moment I get to spend with her. She inspires me and helps me strive to better my world. She's an absolutely amazing person, we fit together so well in so many ways and I feel like the luckiest boy ever.

Thank you for two wonderful and amazing years, sweetheart. You are the best.

So yeah, that happened. :-)

Last night was my sister's birthday. I made her favorite dish... seafood fettuccini. I didn't realize that I made it for her every year on her birthday but apparently, I do! But I know it's her favorite and I only make it that one time a year so I suppose that's okay. I think it turned out pretty well though pixiebelle could probably tell you whether it did or not.

Not sure what the plan for today is... likely a lot of much needed downtime with one another. We'll likely grab some dinner or something but I see lots of mellowness and relaxation in our immediate future. Tomorrow, I has a plan for something but we'll have to see how that goes. There are a couple of factors like Miss Annabelle to consider. But just getting to spend the weekend together will be nice. It always is. And bonus points for her roommate not being around this weekend. That means we can just totally relax and sleep in the air conditioned living room if we so choose! Oh yes, it's all about the simple pleasures in life. lol...

So how about you, my fine, feathered friends? What sort of milestones are you hitting this week? How has the Universe been treating you? Has it given you a warm and gentle hug? A kick to the junk with a steel toed boot? What have been the highlights and the lowlights of your weekend? What is going on in your worlds, my friends?

As usual, this is the place to get anything off your chest that needs to be gotten off! Got a blistering rant to unload? Need to trumpet your joy and happiness? Need to climb up on your soapbox and give somebody a little what fer? Need to fling open the windows and scream out to the world? Got a funny story or a joke? Need a little advice or reassurance? This is the place to do it, my friends. Anything and everything is welcome here. Just drop it all in and let it go! The stage is now yours, grab that microphone and belt it out!

As always, the Purge Bucket is open for your convenience... spew forth, my friends!

Saturday Morning Music

java_fiend — Sat, 25 Aug 2012 18:04:48 GMT

Good Morning Kiddies!

I've got my coffee, a cozy kitty in my lap and some tunes playing. So it's time for our weekly musical show and tell again!

Here's a little of what has my toes tappin' this fine morning...

As usual, I'm pretty all over the place with what I'm listening to this morning. Some recent discoveries, some from childhood... that's the thing I love about music though. It can still be good YEARS later.

So how about you, my friends? What's on your playlist this morning?

Ye Olde Purge Bucket

java_fiend — Sat, 18 Aug 2012 19:56:38 GMT

Well Good Saturday, Good People!!! And how fares thee all?

Let me just say, for the record, that it is bloody freaking HOT. We've been living through an agonizing heat wave for the last couple of weeks and it bloooooows. Okay, agonizing for me, some others may just find it mildly sucktastic. I hate the heat though. I'm a winter boy through and through. Give me some cold and possibly rainy weather and I'm a happy lad.

Other than the bloody heat, the week was actually very good. Busy with lots to do but a good week nonetheless. So yay for that!

I'm still playing catch-up on a ton of things so I'm so sorry that I've been MIA... I have many comments to reply to. I'm sorry I've been a slack-ass, sucky LJ friend lately! Now that I will begin having some free time... well, I'm still going to be working on POD II like a madman... but since that is the only real thing left on my plate, I'm hoping to be more of a regular fixture around here again. So hang with me, folks. I'm sorry that I'm way behind but will catch up! Promise!

I'd set aside the morning to finish the last bit of housekeeping on POD I... there were a few edits that had to be made on the piece that I'm swapping out and I also needed to combine all 13 pieces into one document before sending it back to my editor for the final time. So after fighting with Word for a while, I finally got everything loaded into one document... but now some of my formatting is screwed. So I have to go through it all and manually fix everything. Ugh. But hey, once this is done, it's done and gone and it will forever be off my plate. I'm kinda sad about that in a way... it's the first child o' mine that I am releasing out into the wild. I'm hoping against hope that it sprouts some wings and flies! So keep your digits crossed!

Looking forward to tomorrow... I have a sooper seekrit little adventure planned for pixiebelle... nothing major huge or anything, but a good bit of fun and geekery will be had, I'm sure. I love that she can go do these silly, fun, geeky little things with me and have a really great time. That makes me a happy boy because I love going and doing the dorky stuff like I have planned for tomorrow. So yay for that too! Hopefully this doesn't cross the super-dork threshold for her though!

Well, I'm done fighting with POD I for the moment. Perhaps, I'll get to sneak in a little time over the weekend to wrap it up and send it on its way. As sad as I will be to see it go, I need to be done with it. Otherwise, I can pick, poke and prod at it forever!

So now I shall turn the floor over to you, my fine, feathered friends! How has your week been? How has the Universe treated you? With a kind and gentle hand? A cold slap upside the head? What have been the highlights and lowlights of your week? What made the final cut and what ended up on the editing room floor? What is the haps in your worlds, my friends?

Once again, this is the place to get anything and everything off of your chests! Need to scream and shout about something? Looking for some advice and reassurance? Need to climb up on your soapbox and belt it out? Need to rant, rave and otherwise foam at the mouth? Need to just tell us about something good in your world? This is the place to do it. Just step right up and grab the microphone... the spotlight is yours!

As always, the Purge Bucket is open for your convenience... spew forth, my friends!

Saturday Morning Music

java_fiend — Sat, 18 Aug 2012 17:14:58 GMT

Good Morning, Kids!

It's Saturday morning so that means it's "What Are You Listening To?" time again! Because I'm nosy like that.

Seriously though, since I started doing these things, I've been exposed to a ton of really great music that I'd never heard of before. pixiebelle is always exposing me to new music so that of course, made me curious about what the rest of y'all were listening to as well!

So on that note, it's share time! Here is some of what I'm listening to this morning. As always, bonus points for clips!

So how about you, folks? What's on your playlist today?

So About Last Night...

java_fiend — Wed, 15 Aug 2012 18:12:48 GMT

‘twas a good run indeed.

I know, I know, some of y’all out there think I’m the world’s biggest idiot. To have a 1 in 4 shot at winning it all and walking away from it? What am I, stupid? Wait… don’t answer that.

I feel like I owe some of you guys a bit of an explanation. I know that some of you guys had a WTF moment last night. So let me try to lay it all out…

Believe me, bringing the curtain down on myself wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. Like posting most of my entries this season, the actual decision to pull the trigger was made at quite literally, the very last minute. But it was one I felt that I had to make. And far from being a chivalrous and altruistic gesture (though I appreciate the sentiments I think you guys give me way too much credit), the choice to pull the plug was ultimately made for my own reasons and for myself.

Kristen (pixiebelle for those not already “in the know”) has told me many, many times over the course of the season that she didn’t want me to sacrifice for her and so, being the obedient boyfriend that I am, I didn’t consult her and just went ahead and did it anyway.

See, I’d literally just walked out of an appointment with my therapist… it had been a really good session that gave me some much needed perspective and food for thought. Kim had actually encouraged me to not play this season at all. (I clearly have issues with obedience) But once I chose to play anyway, she encouraged me to just be who I am and go for it full tilt.

But I digress...

So… I’d walked out of her office and was pondering some of the things we’d talked about as far as where I’m choosing to invest and spend my emotion and my energy, how to contain and diffuse my anger when poked with a spoon, the need to prioritize those things as well as the other aspects of my life. Our conversation really had no connection to Idol but as with most everything, I can take what she says and apply it to other areas of my life.

In this case, I applied it to Idol.

I make no bones about it… I freaking love this game and I love the community. I love the people who make this such a vibrant place. I’ve met some amazing and remarkable people who fill my life with total happiness just because they’re in it. Idol has opened up a lot of doors for me, exposed me to a lot of new ideas and new perspectives and has populated my world with people I’ve come to cherish. Things that I will be forever be thankful for.

But I have to admit that I haven’t been very good to Idol this season. If I had one word to describe myself this season… particularly in the latter stages, it would be “surly.” “Combative” might be another. “Dickhead” might be yet another. Any way you phrase it, I’ve been downright grumpy and have completely and viciously lashed out when provoked. I’ve been in the middle of several different dust-ups, which is unlike me. I enjoy a good brouhaha as much as the next guy but I typically don’t get as heated as I’ve gotten this season. Undeservedly so in some cases. And that’s not good for Idol nor is it good for the community as a whole. Dealing with my own emotional baggage and an increase in some stresses and pressures have combined to throw me way off balance and some days, put me in a really bad headspace. I haven’t really enjoyed this season like I have seasons past. It hasn’t been as much fun for me. And that’s nobody’s fault but my own because I can choose how I react to things and obviously, I chose poorly in a lot of cases.

Clearly, I needed to take a few steps back, get some perspective and clear my freaking head. A change was very obviously needed and I had to prioritize where I was going to invest my emotion and my energy. Something had to give. Which is why I chose to pull the plug.

And happily, very happily, I got to do it at a time when it really mattered. See, I happen to believe a whole hell of a lot in pixiebelle She’s passionate and she’s dedicated to improving herself and her craft. She works hard at it. Very hard. You guys don’t get to see her really scrutinizing her pieces, agonizing over every word and every sentence. But I do. And let me tell you that she really pours all of herself into her work. She’s harder on herself than a member of Opus Dei with a flail in their hand. And just in the time I’ve known her, I’ve seen her take such huge strides and come so far. Is she perfect as a writer? Of course not. But then, who is? To me, the important part is that she busts her ass to learn and grow as a writer. She's never satisfied with being "okay", she wants to be great. She has a genuine passion for it. And I don’t think that can ever be overvalued.

Plus let’s not forget that she was in the Top-20 in Season 6, Top-10 in Season 7 and now here she sits in the Top-freaking-4 this season. And, as Gary pointed out, she topped the contest/jury-only poll… something I think says a hell of a lot about her. The girl has some chops. I’m so very, very, very proud of her and am really looking forward to cheering her on and seeing what she can do in this final push. No matter what happens though, I’m so proud of all that she has accomplished this season. She’s absolutely earned her spot in the Top-4 and deserves the chance to fight for the title. And you better believe she’s going to fight. I really believe in her and think that if she continues working as hard as she does, the sky is the limit for her. Not just in Idol but in life. She’s an amazing and remarkable person who’s well worth getting to know. And I’m truly honored that she’s chosen to share her life with me.

So from my perspective (yay, I finally have some!), all of this couldn’t have had better timing. Everything worked out at the right time, absolutely beautifully. I have some really, really, really great things going in my life that I can dedicate myself to 110% Will I miss being there and slugging it out to the end? Of course I will. I’m a competitor at heart. But I’ve also learned something REALLY valuable this season, if only valuable to me. Namely, that winning isn’t everything. See, I used to belong to the Tiger Woods school of thought that said “Second place sucks.” But now, as I stand on the outside, I’m truly content. At peace. I can finally look back at and respect the journey from Season 6 to where I stand now, smile and say “eff yeah, that’s awesome.”
New friends, renewed passion, new opportunities abounding and I really feel like I’m standing on the threshold of some really amazing things in my life. And I’m excited as hell for all of it.

I just wanted to say thank you, guys. You have all supported and encouraged me for so long and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. It’s because of all of your love, encouragement, support and the well-timed kick in the ass that I have the courage to roll the dice and not be afraid of them coming up snake-eyes, that I’m able to let myself pursue the opportunities that I am and that I’m really envisioning a life radically different from the one I’d planned on but is the one I want so badly that I can taste it. So thank you for helping me to make a run at making this happen. You mean the world to me and I love you guys.

This may not have been the most “fun” season for me but in its own way, it might be the one I remember the best for I learned some really valuable lessons through it. Idol and the people who make it what it is have truly and genuinely changed my life for the better. So in walking away for the season, I have zero regrets and the sense of balance and peace returning that I felt immediately after pulling the plug tells me that I made the right decision. For me.

So that's what was up. See? Not altogether altruistic and chivalrous, eh? :-)

And lastly… thanks once again for putting this all together and keeping it afloat for us, Gary. You know I love and treasure all things Idol. It’s always a fantastic and interesting ride through the Idolverse and I really appreciate the fact that you devote so much of yourself to giving us this wonderful, wonderful place. Thanks a ton, Gary.

The Top-4 is a kick-ass group and the run to the finals should be exciting to watch!

Ye Olde Purge Bucket

java_fiend — Sat, 11 Aug 2012 19:43:18 GMT

Good Day, Good People!!! And how fares thee all on this fine, if sweltering freaking day?

It's bloody hot here. And a bit sticky and humid as well. It's days like this, I'd rather have my happy ass parked on an iceberg up in Alaska. I just don't do heat very well. Which... living in Southern California is a bit problematic. All the more reason for me to flee this cesspool for cooler climates! I hear Oregon and Washington singing their siren songs to me...

Anyway... I just finished lopping off the fifteen pounds of hair sitting on my head hoping that would help. Doesn't seem to be helping too much at the moment. As I shaved my head down, the feline companion looked at me, with what I thought was a very hopeful look in his eyes. I think he was hoping I'd give him a shave too. And I was tempted for a minute. It has to suck wearing a fur coat in this heat all day! But I thought better of the idea because if I did shave him down, he'd probably kill me in my sleep. Not that he doesn't try to already but still.

All in all, it wasn't a bad week. Though I swear to Buddha, one of these days I'm going to snap and bludgeon my coworkers. I think if a jury hears my tale of working woe, there would be no way they'd convict me. They might just give me a thumbs up, a "been there before" look and send me on my way. Right???

Other than work irritation, things weren't bad. Progress was made on both POD I and POD II... POD I is just about ready to be sent off. I just need to set the order of the pieces and for that, I'm hoping my dear pixiebelle will give me a hand. Once that's done and it's off my plate completely, I can focus everything I have on POD II. So keep your digits crossed for me! (for all of my new friends, POD I and POD II are my current writing projects... POD I is hopefully going to be released in September and POD II is a little more complicated... but you can read about it a few entries back if you're so inclined!)

So yeah... there's all of that and the Idol vote going on. Which is nerve-wracking in and of itself since we can't see 2 of the polls being conducted. But we have to wait until freaking Tuesday before the dust settles and we see who the Final 4 left standing are going to be. Yikes. It's going to be a long few days, I tell you.

So it appears that Mittens has made his choice for his Veep... Paul Ryan. Ugh. Could be worse I suppose. Mittens could have picked somebody people actually like, somebody who *isn't* a poor-hating, woman-hating, elitist, homophobic, flip-flopping liar. So there's that, I suppose.

Well, I need to go get myself all put together and get on out the door. Daylight's burnin' as they say! I shall now turn the floor over to you fine folks!

So how has your week been? How has the Universe treated you? With kid gloves? An iron fist? Need to get something off your chest? Need to vent, rant or otherwise explode? Got a funny story, a joke or an inappropriate haiku? Need to jump up on your soapbox and deliver a paint-peeling, toe-curling epic rant? Want to sing somebody's praises, wish them well or tell them to take a long walk off a short pier? Anything and everything is welcome here.

For my new friends, this here is your place to get it all out. You're welcome to rant, scream or otherwise carry on about anything that may be going on in your world. Scream, shout, throw yourself on the floor kicking and crying. This is your place. So step on up, grab the microphone and belt it out!

As always, the Purge Bucket is open for your convenience... spew forth, my friends!

Saturday Morning Music

java_fiend — Sat, 11 Aug 2012 17:36:59 GMT

Good Morning, Kids!

First a little promotion... zeitgeistic is holding a friending frenzy so if you're looking to add some new folks to spice up your life a bit, head on over here...

SUMMER☼
FRIENDINGMEME
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There's lots of fun, fascinating folks running around over there! So go... be social, make friends, have fun!

Now it's music time! Here's a little sampling of what's on my playlist this morning. I suppose it's sort of a really odd, strange, diverse morning, musically speaking...

Yeah, I like a lot of different music.

So how about you all out there? What's on your Saturday Morning Playlist? For my new friends, I always enjoy throwing up clips of what I've been listening to and totally love seeing what's gettin' your toes tappin' in the morning. I love music and I have a diverse group of friends with different musical tastes so it's always fun to see what you're listening to!

So let's have it! As always, bonus points for clips!

Topic 36C (F): Patchwork

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:54:15 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is the last of my six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

“You better be nice to me.”

“Or what,” he laughed.

Sasha hugged the small red-haired doll with the patchwork dress to her chest and stared at him defiantly.

“Or you’ll be in big trouble.”

Eric laughed at his little sister. “Ooooooh,” he sneered. “I’m so scared.”

“Get out of my way,” she said.

Sasha stepped to the left, trying to go around him but Eric moved in front of her again, blocking her way.

“Get out of my way, Eric!” Sasha yelled.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Then get out of my way!”

“Eric,” their mother’s voice came from downstairs. “Stop harassing your sister.”
Sasha stuck her tongue out at him and started to push her way by him toward the staircase. He reached out and snatched the doll by the hair. He hated her dolls, all of them. Her room was practically overflowing with the creepy little toys. But he knew that she cherished them so he was constantly using them to torment her.

“Give her back!”

He turned and threw the doll, watching it clear the railing and fly downstairs, hitting the tile entryway with a thud.

“Ooops,” he said. “You dropped your stupid dolly. Better go fetch it.”

“You’re a jerk!”

Sasha stormed by him and pounded down the stairs. Eric laughed as he walked back into his room and shut the door. Turning on his stereo, he grabbed a comic book and dropped down on his bed. Something hard beneath his pillow jabbed into the back of his head.

“Ouch!” He said. “What the hell?”

Eric reached under his pillow and pulled out one of Sasha’s dolls. This one was dressed as a court jester, in black and red, dark circles around the eyes, a wide smile on its pale face and a hat with bells on it. He stood up, intending to go downstairs and get her into trouble for going into his room but paused. A smile spread slowly across his face as he decided to show his little sister what happened when she violated his personal space.

Retrieving a pair of scissors from his desk, he set about cutting the doll. He snipped off the floppy ends of the hat with the bells on them, letting them fall to the floor with a jangle. Next he cut off the hands and feet followed by the legs and arms. He cut as much of the torso into pieces as he could before gathering it all together and placing the pile of doll parts in the middle of her nicely made bed.

Satisfied with his revenge, he made his way back to his room to finish his comic book.

*******

It had been a week and Sasha hadn’t said a word about the doll he’d destroyed. His sister was meticulous when it came to her dolls and for her to not remark on one being cut into a million pieces wasn’t like her. It also took some of the joy out of it for him. Eric crept out of his room and down the hallway, stopping just outside of his sister’s room. She was inside, having a one-sided conversation with her dolls. As usual.

“No, he wasn’t always mean like this,” Sasha said.

He leaned closer to the door.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He just likes hurting my feelings now.”

Eric stifled a giggle. He didn’t know why he enjoyed picking on his sister so much, he just did.

“We know you’re out there, Eric,” Sasha called. “Go away or I’ll tell mom.”

He was taken aback for a moment. How did she know he was out there? He’d been nearly silent as far as he could tell. Shrugging his shoulder, he stepped into her doorway and froze. Sitting in front of her was the black and red jester doll that he’d cut up. It didn’t appear to have a single scratch on it. Sasha looked at him, contempt in her eyes.

“When did you get the new doll?” Eric tried to appear casual.

She looked at the jester and then at him. “I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve had Harley forever.”

“But—”

“But what?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just stay out of my room, okay?”

“I wasn’t in your room.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to appear intimidating.

“Yes you were,” he said. “About a week ago. That stupid doll was in my room. Right where you left it.”

She looked at the doll and back to him again.

“I wasn’t in your room, Eric,” she said. “Stop making stuff up.”

“This is your last warning,” he said. “If I find out you were snooping around in my room again, you’re going to get it. Or one of your stupid dolls will.”

Sasha stood up, putting herself between the dolls and him protectively.

“You better leave my friends alone,” she said. “Or you’ll be in really big trouble.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Like I said, stay the hell out of my room.”

He turned and walked back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

“Mom had to have gotten her a new doll, right?” He muttered to himself. “So why didn’t he get in trouble for destroying the old one?”

He turned on his Playstation and sat down in front of the television, a vague feeling of disquiet settling over him.

*******

“Your dad’s car broke down,” his mother said. “I have to go pick him up from the shop and I don’t have time to get a babysitter over here.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, mom,” he said. “I’m thirteen now.”

“I need to know I can trust you,” she said. “I need you to be a responsible boy and watch your sister for me. Can you do that?”

“I will, mom,” he said.

She looked him in the eye for a long moment and then nodded. She turned and grabbed her car keys and purse from the table by the door.

“I’ll be gone for maybe an hour,” she said.

“We’ll be fine, mom,” he said. “Stop worrying.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “If you both are good, we’ll go out for ice cream later. I have to go. Be good and don’t harass your sister.”

He ran to the window, watching his mother get into her car and drive away. Feeling like he was being watched, Eric turned around and found his sister standing at the top of the staircase looking down at him.

“You heard mom,” he said. “I’m in charge. So you have to do what I say.”

Without a word, she turned and ran back to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Eric laughed and walked up to his room, stopping in the doorway. Sitting in the middle of his bed was the red and black jester doll along with a matching green and yellow jester. Anger flushed his face as he stormed to his sister’s door and opened it with a vicious kick.

“You left two of your stupid dolls in my room again, Sasha,” he snarled. “I told you to stay out of my room. Now they’re going to have to pay the price.”

“Leave them alone,” Sasha called. “Or you’re going to be in really big trouble!”

“Mom’s not here,” he said. “I’m in charge now.”

“Eric don’t,” Sasha cried. “Don’t do anything to them. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He snorted and walked back to his room, grabbing both dolls by the legs and carrying them downstairs. Sasha trailed after him, crying, nearly hysterical.

“Eric no!” She screamed. “Don’t do anything to them!”

“I warned you,” he taunted her. “But you didn’t listen.”

He opened the door to the basement, turned on the light and descended the stairs. Sasha stayed at the doorway, screaming and crying. He grabbed a large metal bucket and dropped the dolls inside. Taking a can of lighter fluid off of the top shelf, he doused the dolls with it.

“You sure you don’t want to see your dolls get barbecued, Sasha?”

“Don’t do it, Eric,” she said. “You’ll be—”

“In big trouble. Yeah, yeah, I know,” he shot back. “Whatever. I’m about to light the match. Tell me you’re sorry for going into my room again.”

“I didn’t!”

“Okay,” he said. “Have it your way.”

Eric struck the match as he heard what sounded like dozens of scuffling feet behind him. He turned to look just as a rope noose closed around his neck and tightened. The match dropped to the floor and went out. His eyes grew wide as he tried to grab the rope around his neck. Dozens of his sister’s dolls stood behind him, pulling the rope that was slowly cutting off his air and lifting him off the ground. He gasped, tried to speak but found that he couldn’t. From the corner of his eye, he saw the two jester dolls run by him and join the lines of dolls pulling him upward. He kicked his feet, thrashed and tried to take a breath but found that no air was forthcoming. The dolls looked at him, a malicious gleam in their eyes as they hauled him off the ground. They chuffed and laughed at him. He struggled and kicked harder, grabbed hold of the rope and tried to pull his neck free from it. But it held fast.
Inch by inch, he was lifted off of the ground. Darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision.

“I told you that you’d be in big trouble of you weren’t nice to me!”

His sister’s voice followed by the slamming of the basement door were the last things Eric heard before the darkness swallowed him whole

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(F): Patchwork. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Topic 36C (E): Just One Look

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:52:15 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is my fifth of six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

Thunderstruck is about the only word I can use to describe how I felt seeing him across that crowded bar. I knew it was him the moment I saw him. Larger than life, he sat there with some vapid blonde, half his age sitting on his lap and nuzzling his neck. He did always like them young. He laughed and drank like he didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe he didn’t. At least, not at that moment.

I took my drink and moved to a small table out on the patio where I was well concealed but could still watch him. A breeze blew in off of the ocean, taking some of the edge off of a hot and humid evening. I watched him stand, taker the blonde’s hand and lead her to the dance floor at the foot of the stage where the bland played a cover of Lyin’ Eyes by the Eagles. How fitting. They danced close and she giggled as he put his hands all over her ass. The son of a bitch didn’t even dance with me like that on our wedding day!

“I can tell you’re not from around here,” came a slightly slurred voice behind me.

A guy wearing white shorts with a dark blue polo shirt, shoes and no socks took the seat across from me at my table. I stared at him for a moment, his brazenness unbelievable.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m waiting for somebody.”

He waved off my comment and smiled. “I’ll wait until he gets back,” he said. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be left in a shark tank like this all by her lonesome.”

“Thank you for your concern,” I replied. “But I’m fine. Really.”

“Scott Cooper,” he said like he hadn’t even heard me. “Dr. Scott Cooper.”

I rolled my eyes, my agitation growing. I looked across to see that my husband and his bimbo had returned to their seats where they kissed and cuddled closely. The crowd was getting thicker, the music louder and the crowd a little rowdier. A headache, low and throbbing was forming behind my eyes.

“Look, Scott,” I said. “I’m really not in the mood here. Can you please stop bothering me?”

He chuckled and spoke a little louder to be heard over the music. “Everybody’s in the mood,” he said. “It’s a beautiful night out and I’d like to buy a drink for a beautiful lady.”

The thin cord that was holding my patience together finally snapped.

“Look buddy,” I leaned over the table and spoke loudly enough to be heard but not so loud that I’d draw attention to myself. “Not interested. Now fuck off!”

He looked at me, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Oh I get it,” he said. “You’re a dyke. That’s cool. I know somebody who likes to party. You interested in a threesome?”

As tempting as it was to smack him and throw my drink in his face, I resisted the urge. Without waiting for a response, I stood up and left the bar. I needed time to think, to process and figure out how I would confront my husband. The man who, for the last year and a half, I thought was dead.

*******

I sat in my rental car in the parking lot watching the door to the bar; the shock was rapidly being replaced by a white-hot rage. The windows were down but it didn’t matter. I was sweaty, sticky and nasty. I wanted nothing more than a cold shower and a cold drink but knew that if I left, I would miss my opportunity. What I planned to do with that opportunity once I had it was something else entirely. I had no idea what I was going to do.

A year and a half ago, my husband had gone sailing for the afternoon. It was something he enjoyed doing from time to time. He said it helped clear his head when the stress of work or life got to be too much. It was just him and the ocean, he said. The Coast Guard had found his boat floating adrift three days later. A search for his body turned up nothing and he was presumed lost as sea.

For more than a year, I grieved his loss and was inconsolable. I’d shut out friends and family, hermiting myself away with little else but bleak thoughts and cherished memories. Eventually, the dark clouds had receded enough that my friend Shelly was able to get through to me. She sat with me, held me when I sobbed like a child and told me that things would be okay, that I would learn to live and be whole again.

It was Shelly who talked me into coming down to Cozumel for a vacation. It was a place that Carl and I had always talked about going to but one of those things that we kept putting off and would get around to eventually. She thought that maybe by being here, enjoying myself and actually living a little again, I might finally be able to find some peace and closure.
But instead of peace and closure, I found the man who was supposed to be dead very much alive and well.

Nearly three hours later, Carl came stumbling out of the bar with the bimbo latched onto his arm. My head was throbbing so hard it felt like it was ready to split open and the muscles in my neck and shoulders ached with the tension. I watched them stagger over to his car and get in. Another twenty minutes passed as they groped each other like drunken, horny teenagers. I still had no idea how I was going to confront him but I felt my anger building.

Finally, the car started, the headlights came on and they pulled out of the parking lot. I waited a few moments before starting my car, pulling out and following them down the highway. They weren’t very difficult to tail since they were one of the only cars on the road. I let myself fall behind a little more, not wanting to make it too obvious that I was following them. Though in their state, I doubt they would have noticed.

About ten miles from the bar, he turned into a driveway and disappeared from view. I drove by slowly, trying to catch a glimpse. They had already parked and were getting out of the car as I passed. Finding a wide shoulder on the road, I pulled to a stop and parked the rental. Taking a deep breath, my nerves and my anger warring within me, I got out of the car, locked it and headed back toward his house. I still had no idea what I was going to say or do but I decided to just wing it.

The gravel crunched beneath my shoes as I walked down the darkened driveway. I passed by the car, ticking as it cooled and made my way around to the back of the house. A long path led from the back of the house down to a dock where a small motor boat was moored. Though not what I’d call palatial, the house Carl was living in was certainly several steps up from the modest place we’d lived in together. It looked like he wasn’t doing too badly for himself down here. That only served to fuel my anger even more. We lived frugally, scrimping and saving every penny to pay the mortgage and our bills, trying to put enough back to eventually retire on. And here he was, living it up.

“Asshole,” I said quietly.

The lights on the bottom floor of the house were dark but I could see candlelight flickering in one of the upstairs windows. It was presumably, the bedroom. I stepped up onto the back porch and on a whim, tried the handle on the French doors. It was unlocked. The butterflies were like a whirlwind in my stomach and every sense I had told me not to do it. Ignoring everything, I stepped into the house, leaving the door open behind me.

I took a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dark. Music floated down from upstairs. John Coltrane. Of course it was. It was his favorite and he used to play Coltrane or any number of jazz musicians non-stop, day and night. I heard them laughing upstairs. I stood there listening as their giggles turned into the sound of passionate sex. Using their noise as cover, I took the opportunity to poke around his house. I walked through the kitchen, looked through the mail on the table by the door. It looked like a few bills and assorted odds and ends, all addressed to one Miles Coltrane. I shook my head and dropped it back down on the table.

He’d faked his death and started an entirely new life down here. Unbelievable.

Things upstairs seemed to be getting louder and more frantic so I moved to what appeared to be a small office. Stepping inside, I flipped on the light and headed for the desk. Second drawer on the right. Bingo. Like his music, some things never changed. I slipped it into my pocket, went and shut the light off and leaned back in the chair, listening to the pair upstairs.

“She’s faking it, Carl,” I said. “I used to be married to you and there is no way you can actually make somebody scream like that.”

Eventually, the screaming and the moaning tapered off. I sat in the darkness for more than an hour. Thankfully, it was cooler in here than it had been in the car. Footsteps descended the stairs and went out the front door. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

Swiveling back and forth in the chair, I heard him come down the stairs and go into the kitchen. I listened to the bottles clinking followed by the sound of one being opened. Listening to his footsteps approaching the office, I had expected to feel nervous or scared but I felt nothing more than a sense of calm and righteous anger burning in my stomach. I’d just removed the pistol I’d taken out of his desk and pointed it at the doorway as he came into the room and flipped on the light wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His eyes widened but I couldn’t tell if it was from seeing me sitting there or the gun I was pointing at him.

“I hope you at least gave her cab fare, Carl.”

“W-what?” He stammered. “Ho-how?”

“Call it dumb luck,” I replied coolly. “”After mourning you for more than a year, I decided to start living again and take that trip we never got around to taking together. What a surprise it was to find out that you’d started our vacation without me.”

He held his hand up to me. “Okay, I know this looks bad,” he said. “But I can explain everything.”

“Oh really?” I replied. “This, I have to hear. Come. Sit.”

I pointed with my free hand to the chair in front of his desk. He hesitated for a moment but staring at the barrel of the gun in my hand, Carl finally complied. He sat across from me, his hands held up like I was sticking him up or something.

“So?” I said. “Explain.”

He licked his lips. “Look, Sarah,” he started. “We were in real financial trouble and I thought this might be a way to solve our problems.”

“Seriously? Faking your death, leaving me alone and miserable was a way to solve our problems?”

He shrugged. “You got a hundred grand out of the deal,” he said. “And I got to start over. Do things right. I wanted to call you. Tell you. Get you down here with me. I love you and I missed you.”

I felt my eyes widen in disbelief. “Yeah, really looks like you were giving me a lot of thought, asshole.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “I just got caught up in this new life. But not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.”

The anger inside of me boiled over. I was so enraged, the gun in my hand shook.

“Where are the keys to that boat out on the dock?” I asked quietly.

“What?”

“The boat on the dock out back,” I repeated. “Where are the keys? We’re going some place we can talk privately.”

His eyes shifted nervously. He was searching for a way out, some form of leverage to gain the advantage on me. I steadied my hand and pointed the gun at his face.

“Don’t fuck with me, Carl,” I said, my voice without emotion. “We’re taking a little trip and we’re going to have a nice, long talk.”

“If we’re just going to talk, you can lose the gun, right?”

“Keys, Carl,” I said. “Now.”

The lights of Cozumel had faded behind us and the vast, empty darkness of the ocean lay in front. I sat on the bench seat at the back of the boat behind Carl. He drove the boat, continually looking over his shoulder at me.

“Okay,” I shouted to be heard. “Stop. This is good.”

Carl stopped the boat and turned off the engine. We rolled up and down with the waves and just floated. The stars overhead were like chips of diamond on black velvet. The sparkled more brilliantly than I’d ever seen them before. Carl cleared his throat and took a step toward me. I thrust the gun out in front of me.

“Uh uh,” I said. “Just keep standing near the wheel.”

“What are you doing, Sarah?” he asked. “We both got something out of the deal. Why is this such a problem?”

“I thought you were dead, you son of a bitch,” I shouted. “I gave up more than a year of my life mourning you!”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “I honestly just wasn’t happy. I hadn’t been for a while. I thought this would be a clean break for the both of us.”

I looked at him, dumbstruck. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out for a long moment. I tried to formulate my thoughts as I listened to the sound of the waves slapping against the side of the boat, felt the gentle rocking of the tide.

“You weren’t happy,” I said, my voice flat. “This is the first I’ve heard of your unhappiness. I thought things were just fine between us.”

He shrugged. “I just didn’t want to say anything,” he said. “You know how you get.”

I shook my head. “Know how I get?”

“You can be unstable sometimes, Sarah,” he said. “Rather than go through all of the drama of a divorce, I figured this way was better. We both got something out of the deal rather than wasting all of our money on lawyers.”

Despite my best efforts to restrain them, warm tears slid down my cheeks.

“I can’t believe you, Carl,” I whispered. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

He held his hand out to me. “Give me the gun,” he said. “Let’s just get back to shore and go about our lives.”

“Go about our lives?”

He nodded. “You’re doing fine back home,” he said. “And I’m doing fine down here. Let’s just get back to our new lives and pretend this never happened. That you never found me.”

“Doing fine?”

“Sarah,” he said, his tone impatient. “You can’t pretend that the last year of our marriage was a happy year. You felt it just as much as I did. So what’s wrong with the both of us profiting off of the dissolution of our marriage and living newer, happier lives.”

As I listened to him, a sudden thought occurred to me.

“You took out a life insurance policy on yourself,” I said. “Didn’t you?”

He hesitated and I pointed the gun at him again. “Didn’t you?”

Slowly he nodded.

“How much?”

“Why? What’s it to you?”

“How fucking much, Carl?”

He looked around but there was no help or escape in sight. “Three million.”

It hit me like a runaway train. Three million dollars. No wonder he was able to live so lavishly.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He asked. “You want to get paid. I can make that happen, Sarah. Let’s get back to my house and I’ll give you some cash. I have a couple hundred thousand in the safe.”

“What’s the combination?”

“I’ll tell you that when you get me back safely.”

A cold wind swept over the ocean and buffeted us as we stood there.

“You are in no position to bargain, Carl,” I said. “What. Is. The. Combination?”

“You don’t get it,” he said. “Until I’m back safely.”

As I stood there, eyes locked on his, I realized something. Everything Carl did was predictable. From his taste in music to where he kept his gun in the desk. He never changed his routine. Like computer passwords and lock combinations. What an idiot.

“You realize you’re legally dead in the States, right?” I asked.

“That was kind of the point,” he said. “So what does that mean to you?”

I squeezed the trigger again and again until all of the bullets had been spent. Carl’s body, punctured by half a dozen ragged bullet wounds hung slumped over the railing of the boat. It took some doing but I was able to push him over and into the water. I dug up the spent shell casings and pitched them overboard as well. There was some blood on the gunwale but I figured I’d be able to wash it off fairly quickly.

Firing up the engine, I looked at Carl’s body floating face-down in the water. With the amount of blood seeping out of him, the predators would devour him in no time flat. And if any parts happened to wash up on shore that were identifiable, they’d ultimately trace back to a dead man.

I gunned the engine and headed back to shore, ready to begin my new life. Ready to really live again.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(E): Just One Look. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Topic 36C (D): Explode

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:50:11 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is my fourth of six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

I stare at the face on the vidscreen before me. In all my years in the profession, I’ve never contracted to kill somebody I know before.

It’s a strange and leaves a bit of a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I look at his face. A face I haven’t seen in more than twenty years. Though he’s a little grayer and perhaps has a few more lines on his face than I remember, he remarkably looks the same as he did all those years ago. Though I doubt that the passage of time made him any less of a son of a bitch. Saying I “know” him might be stretching things a bit, I suppose. I mostly know what I know of him by reading the papers and listening to the gossip like everybody else. I suspect that the only people who truly “know” this man are all corpses.

“The offer is two hundred fifty thousand dollars,” the computer modulated voice intones. “Will you accept?”

“Stand by,” I say into my voice modulation unit.

I lean back in my seat and look at the night sky beyond my office windows. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of aircars race as people are busy living their little lives. The lights are bright and garish and the city itself is noisy, crowded and filthy. I hate living here. But this is where the work is. Perhaps with this payday, I can move off-planet for a while. Maybe go somewhere more remote, perhaps even tropical. I call up my bank account on a separate vidscreen. Though I don’t know that I could exactly retire from the game altogether, the pay from this job will give me a nice cushion that could buy me a hell of a lot of peace and quiet somewhere else for a while.

I lean forward again and speak into my voice modulation unit. “Offer accepted,” I say. “Half deposited into a designated account immediately, the other half upon completion of the job.”

There is silence for a long moment before the speaker crackles to life. “Your terms are acceptable. Transfer of funds will begin immediately.”

I cut off communication with my client and check my account. True to their word, half of my fee had been deposited already. As uneasy as it made me, I guess I had a job to do.

*******

There are a lot of reasons people want to kill one another. Religion, politics, infidelity are big ones. But most of the time it boils down to greed, power and money. Unlike some of my fellow assassins, I refuse to involve myself in marital or domestic disputes and focus only on the higher-profile contracts. Politicians, religious figures, businessmen… the people whose deaths make the headlines. Killers in the city are a dime a dozen and most are just street thugs who would cut your throat for five bucks. Skilled and lethal assassins, those of us who can get to the people the common street thugs can’t, are a bit rarer. And among my esteemed brethren, I’m even more of an oddity because there just aren’t very many women in the game. As a result, I’m able to blend in better, sometimes even gain access to places the boys can’t. Nobody would ever suspect that somebody who looks as feminine as I do could be one of the most ruthless and efficient killers on the streets. It‘s an advantage and one I exploit to the fullest possible extent.

The man I’d contracted to kill is a powerful businessman with ties to some of the most corrupt politicians in the city. Some of his business interests are legitimate but most aren’t. He’s methodical, calculating, ruthless and a cold-blooded killer who doesn’t think twice about stabbing somebody in the back to get ahead and increase his bottom line. He’s purely profit-driven and cares far more about money than people. The last rumor I heard is that he began dabbling in human trafficking. With so many homeless and runaways throughout the city, he was sweeping up some to selling into slavery or the sex-trade off-planet. The man will do anything or turn on anybody to make a buck.

Which of course, makes him a prime candidate for assassination. Either by the people who want his slice of the pie or somebody whose daughter or little sister he sold as a concubine. Thus far though, his challengers and rivals have had a nasty habit of disappearing and never being heard from again.

I am keeping this all in mind as I watch him, try to pick up his patterns and figure out the best way of going about fulfilling my contract. The problem is that he is cautious, perhaps even paranoid. He rarely ventures outside of his compound and when he does, it’s never with less than a dozen bodyguards.

The hit will be difficult. At best.

I sit on a rooftop surveying his compound through my binocs. High, thick walls no doubt outfitted with cameras and military-grade monitoring equipment. A dozen armed guards patrolling the grounds that I can see and who knows how many others I can’t see. A frontal assault wouldn’t work. I’d be cut to shreds in a heartbeat. Attempting to sneak into the compound would likely get me just as dead. So what was left? Tunneling in from beneath? Parachuting in from above?

“Dammit, focus. Solve the problem.”

Figuring out how to kill somebody without being detected is more than just a job for me. It is a puzzle to be solved. If there is one thing I inherited from my father, it’s a mind that thinks logically and perhaps even a bit mechanically. I can take things apart and just “see” how they all fit back together again. When faced with a puzzle or a problem, I have the ability to shut down all emotion and think it through to its conclusion. Until now. Now, emotion is clouding my brain and leaving me in a fog where the logical conclusion is veiled, muddied and just beyond my reach.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Fortune favors the bold.

One of my father’s favorite sayings and one I remember hearing countless times as a child. A vague idea began taking shape in my head. Something bold, something crazy. And as it came into sharper relief, I see just how crazy it is.

*******

“Kaitlyn,” I say to the man at the gate. “Kaitlyn Warner.”

He steps back into his armored booth and I can hear him talking, pitching his voice low so I can’t hear what he’s saying. He pokes his head back out and looks at me for a long moment.

“Kaitlyn Warner you said?”

I nod my head as a cool breeze flows gently by me and I try to calm the butterfly wings beating the inside of my chest. My heart is thundering and I can feel the sweat, slick and greasy, sliding down my back. I projected and air of calm and patience but I was bursting with nervous energy inside. Everything about this job is wrong. If I was smart, I’d turn around and head back the way I came. Quickly. I’d give back the deposit on the job, say it was no good and fund my vacation off-planet another way. Emotions are the number one reason people in my profession get themselves killed. If you can’t control them, you’re going to make a mistake that ends up killing you. It’s a matter of when and not if. So logically speaking, if I want to survive this encounter, I’d turn around and get the hell out of here.
I turn, muscles tensed and ready myself to sprint off into the darkness when the guard’s voice stops me.

“Ms. Warner,” he said. “Come with us please.”

Two large men in black body armor with wicked looking plasma assault rifles at the ready stood behind the gate guard.

“These men will escort you into the house.”

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder and nod. “Thank you.”

One several paces ahead of me and one several paces behind, I am led through a maze of twisting corridors in what is a beautifully decorated palatial estate. There is artwork from many different planets represented and the riot of colors and designs somehow morphs into a stunning visual display. And though I can’t see them, I know that there are eyes on me every step of the way. I look around as if I am admiring the décor trying and failing to pick out the sensors and monitors that are watching me.

The first guard stops outside a massive wooden door, knocks and takes a position on the left. It looks like it belongs in one of the castles I used to read about. The guard behind me took his position on the right. They looked like a pair of lethal bookends.

“Come.” The voice was muffled by the heavy wood but still unmistakable.

Hesitantly, I reach out with a slightly trembling hand and open the door. I silently chastise myself for my fear and try to cage the beast inside of me before it runs out of control. This is a job like any other job I’ve contracted to do. Get ahold of yourself.

Except that it’s not like any other job.

I step into what is obviously a large office and library. Dark, oak shelves covered three of the four walls floor to ceiling and were filled with hundreds, maybe even thousands of books. The fourth wall was glass and looked out over the ocean. It was truly stunning.

“Kaitlyn?” The man behind the desk as he stood. “Is that really you?”

He is tall and fit with salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. If I didn’t know what he did for a living, I would have called him distinguished looking. He looked at me with something like genuine surprise and a touch of suspicion in his eyes. I simply nod and smile back at him, suppressing the urge to wrap my hands around his neck and choke the life out of him. Though I know that if I do, I’ll be dead before I ever open the door to leave.

“Hello, father,” I say.

He steps around the desk and comes toward me with a device in his hand. I expect as much and hold out my arm, turning my hand over, baring my wrist to him. A DNA scanner. He looks slightly embarrassed as he presses it against my skin and activates it. A few moments later, the machine beeps and a green light flashes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “A man in my position can’t take too many chances.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

“Please, sit,” he says and guides me to a pair of wingback chairs that stand in front of a fireplace. I set my purse down under my chair and take a seat in the soft, plush chair. “Drink?”

“Yes, please. Scotch if you have it.”

He smiles at me. “The fruit apparently does not fall too far from the tree.”

A few moments later, he returns, hands me my glass and sits in the chair across from me. He sips as he looks at me and I can see his mind working.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not here for money.”

He shrugs. “I can’t say I’d blame you if you were,” he says. “After your mother took you off-planet, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I knew that you’d come back. I was sure of it. And now that you have, I couldn’t be happier.”

I fight back the urge to shudder and violently suppress the emotions inside of me. I remind myself that this man was less of a father to me than the man who brought me into the profession had been. What we did may be tasteless to some but at least there is some small amount of honor it. What this man does is evil.

“I’m surprised to be sitting here too,” I say.

He leans back in his chair. “So what brought you here tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just that…"

He raises his eyebrows and takes another sip of his drink, content to wait me out.
“I’m leaving. Off-planet. And I don’t know if I’ll be back,” I recite the story I’d come up with. “And I don’t have many memories of you at all. I didn’t even remember what you looked like.”

“Leaving?” There is a touch of sadness in his voice.

I nod. “I have a job.”

He finishes his drink, stands and goes to fetch other. When he returns, he’s got the bottle in his hand, touches up my drink and sits back down. He looks at me for a long moment.

“What if I were to offer you a job, Kaitlyn?” He asks. “I don’t’ know what skills you have but we can certainly find out. And I can pay you whatever you wish.”

My emotions battle inside of me once more. Things I don’t recognize and things I’d rather remain ignorant to.

“Why would you do that?” I ask quietly.

“I’ve never had any other children,” he says evenly. “So that makes you the heir to my business. Plus, you’re my daughter and I want to catch up on all the time we missed.”

I look at him and can see the open affection for me in his eyes. It’s completely at odds with the monster that he really is. My heart beats faster, wants that connection with my father that I never had and yet, the cold and calculating profession in me keeps reminding me that he is a monster and I have a job I need to finish.

“Th- that’s very generous of you,” I say.

He reaches across and takes my hand. “Kaitlyn,” he says. “When your mother took you away from me, I was heartbroken. Believe me. But we have a chance to be a family again and I want that more than anything.”

I finish my drink and stand, walking over and setting the glass down on the table. I look at him and see how hopeful he looks, how much he means what he’s saying. He really thinks that we can pick up and be a family. And I silently curse that part of my heart that wants it too.

“I’ll be around for a few more days,” I say. “Can I think about it?”

He looks disappointed for a moment before he composes himself. “Of course,” he says. “Take all the time you need. There is no expiration date on this offer.”

“I should go.”

“Please stay,” he says. “Have dinner with me tonight. Let’s catch up.”

He suddenly looks like an old man, desperate to keep his family together rather than the calculating beast that sells children into bondage. My head is spinning and my heart is hammering away.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “We can have dinner tomorrow.”

“Excellent.”

He takes my hand and escorts me out of the house and all the way to the gate himself, his armed shadow following discretely behind. At the gate, he envelops me in a hug and I can smell the same aftershave and the scent of cigars I remember from when I was a very young girl. The memories detonate in my head like atomic blasts and I can feel the tears rising and sliding down my cheek. He takes my hand, gently kissing the back of it.

“Tomorrow then,” he says. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

I walk away in a daze, a mash-up of emotions I’d never expected to surface but are now wreaking havoc inside of my head and my heart. The tears, warm and salty flow unchecked as I make my way back to the rooftop of the building where I kept my office.

From this vantage point, I have a clear line of sight to my father’s compound. I imagine what he was doing right that moment, what he was feeling, who he might be talking to and what he might be saying. Slipping the small box out of my pocket, I pondered it for some long minutes.

I so desperately wanted a father and a family. Things that tear at my soul because I never really had either. But at what cost to myself? Could I knowingly lay down everything I knew about my father, ignore all of the evil and atrocities he’s committed? Become a part of that?

Fresh tears fall as I press the button signaling the powerful bomb hidden in the purse I’d left beneath the chair. The resulting blast lights up the sky like it's noon and the shockwave breaks the glass windows in buildings as far as the one I'm standing on.

I bite back the tears. It's a job and if nothing else, I am a professional.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(D): Explode. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Topic 36C (C): Group Think

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:48:09 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is my third of six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

Hey, did you hear that Muslims teach their kids how to slaughter Americans in their schools? It’s true, it says so in the Koran.

Hey, did you hear that poor people choose to be poor but are secretly living an amazing life with their flat screen televisions, iPhones, Playstations and twenty-six room mansions?

Hey, did you hear that illegal Mexican immigrants only come here to rob and kill people, steal your wife and take your job?

Hey, did you hear that Obama had a secret room built in the White House where he prays to dark, Pagan gods while eating the flesh of babies and sodomizing a 3-Toed Tree Sloth?

I read it on the internet, so it has to be true, right?

I’d love to say George Orwell had it all right on the money but I don’t even think he realized just how crazy and out of control people would get with the whole newspeak, doublespeak and doublethink thing. I’m quite certain he’s currently rolling over in his grave, giving a mighty facepalm and shouting “WTF! Seriously, people?” from where ever he resides in the cosmos.

It’s easy to do. We’ve all done it. We’ve read something on the internet, gotten our knickers in a twist as a result and stormed off all half-cocked, ready to kick some ass with a million other outraged Keyboard Commandos.

Only to have what we’d read turn out to be oh-so-wrong. Oops.

Just this week, I saw my step-father post something inflammatory on Facebook that instinctively, I knew was a load of horsecrap right-wing propaganda which claimed that President Obama was suing to prevent the military service members from voting in Ohio. It took me all of about three minutes to find the sources that absolutely debunked said horsecrap right-wing propaganda and another three to post the information to my Facebook wall where my idiot-stepfather would be sure to see it along with a… sharply worded message. Ahem. So seeing that the propaganda had already hit Facebook, I was completely unsurprised to come into work the next day to find the right-wingers I work with spouting the exact, same, bullcrap line of propaganda.

Such is the age of the internets… where facts and knowledge are plentiful but too many reach for the low-hanging fruit of lies and purposeful misinformation.

It’s frustrating seeing people locked in to this mindset where the only information we take in comes in the form of twenty-second sound bites. The people who shape the messages that drive an agenda know this. And it’s a tactic they’ve learned to exploit.

Those who drive an agenda have also mastered yet another art of propaganda and misinformation that is as foul as it is insidious. See how this grabs you…

… when one lies, one should lie big, and stick to it. They keep up their lies, even at the risk of looking ridiculous.

Does that sound familiar? Whether it’s calling for President Obama’s birth certificate or insisting that he’s a Muslim, conservative talk show hosts like Rush and Hannity, douchebags like Ted Nugent and Donald Trump, sitting members of Congress are, knowingly or not, employing a tactic made famous by the Nazis.

The above quote came from the mouth of one Joseph Goebbels… Nazi Minister of Propaganda.

And no, I’m not *calling* anybody a Nazi… there is a difference between calling somebody a Nazi and illustrating that they are using Nazi propaganda tactics. But think about it for a minute… how many people do you know who think that President Obama is A) not a legal citizen B) a secret Muslim or C) a Socialist/Communist who wants to destroy America? One maybe? Two? Three?

Scarily enough, there are millions of people who have and continue to buy into the Big Lies being carelessly thrown around the political landscape today.
And all of it is aimed at controlling the message in the hopes that they will control our minds which will lead them to controlling our votes… with the ultimate goal of accumulating wealth and power.

Is the GOP alone in this? Of course not. Just the other day, Harry Reid got loose and made a comment that made him a “hero” among some of the liberal circles… it was his statement about Mitt Romney not paying taxes for ten years. I personally think Senator Reid was an idiot for playing that card. It was a baseless allegation aimed at getting Mitt Romney to release his tax records. It was a political stunt and an effort to use a propaganda technique to achieve a desired result. But it was bush league. Plain and simple.

Ultimately, we are going to vote based on our values and our morals. We’re going to vote for who and what we think are right. The problem is, with so much mud being thrown about, with so many lies, manipulations and distortions in the mix, how are we supposed to know who or what is right?

The answer to that question, my friends, is… Think about it for yourselves. Educate yourselves. Form your own opinions. Don’t rely on sound bites from grandstanding and posturing politicians or TV and radio personalities. Roll up your sleeves, get your hands dirty and do some work.

That is the only way to break out of the herd, folks. Don’t let them lead you or this country to the slaughterhouse because we were too busy or it was too hard to look things up or politics is just tedious and boring.

We can shape the future of this country. We can decide how we want it to be. But it’s going to take some solid, independent thought and research on our parts. Otherwise, we may as well just put the blinders on and wait for that big axe to come crashing down on our necks.

Use your minds. Think for yourselves!

The choice is yours, my friends.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(C): Group Think. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Topic 36C (B): Dedication

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:44:41 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is my second of six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

We all have those people who’ve inspired us in our lives. Sometimes they pass through but leave a very lasting impression, an indelible mark. They give us something to aim for and something to aspire to. Sometimes we don’t even know the person, but who they are, how they conduct themselves, the obstacles they’ve managed to overcome are so profound and amazing that even from afar, we can’t help but be awed and moved by them. And still others are always around, kicking you in the ass daily, poking and prodding you to want more to reach for the stars and to be better than you knew you were even capable of being.

You my dear Idolers, are all of those things and more to me.

It sounds horribly cheesy and trite, I know. But that doesn’t make it any less true.

When I first signed up for Idol many moons ago, I had zero idea what to expect. I figured it would be reading and writing sure but I didn’t expect to be absolutely bowled over like I have been. The community of people who make Idol what it is. Almost daily, I’m overwhelmed by the kindness, the generosity and the love of the people who inhabit the Idolverse.

And you all couldn’t have come along at a better time in my life. At a time when everything I’d worked toward had fallen apart and I was left standing in the smoldering ruins of my life, I plunged headfirst into the world of Idol. It allowed me to connect with people and re-connect with a passion I’ve had since I was young but one that had been dormant for many, many, many years… my passion for writing.

My first season, I wrote a lot of non-fiction pieces and had just begun dipping my toes into the cool waters of fiction again. And it felt good. It felt better than good. It was like something had been woken up inside of me and suddenly, it was a thirst that couldn’t be quenched. I wanted to write and keep writing. When I was working and not writing, I wanted to go home and write some more.

When my second season (Season 7 if you’re scoring at home) rolled around, I devoted more and more of my entries to my fiction. And people seemed to be responding to it. It was a high more powerful than ten tons of crack. I started thinking about my writing in different ways, trying to learn more, grow more, evolve as a writer and get better.

Now, in my third full season, I’m pretty comfortably entrenched in my fiction… mostly creepy fiction though I try to dabble in other waters now and again. And I’m loving every minute that I get to sit down and create. I am learning more and getting great feedback from people that is helping me grow in even more directions than I ever thought possible.

And because of Idol, not only have I rediscovered that spark, that thing that really gets me going and lets me lose myself in the creative process, I’m finding that doors I’d never considered before are opening. Opportunities that I’d always dreamed of but never imagined could come to fruition have been presenting themselves to me.

It’s shocking, overwhelming and completely humbling but it is SUCH a great feeling too. The idea that I could possibly make a go at a career in writing and having the opportunities out there to do so… it’s astounding to me. Utterly astounding.

It’s because of you folks that inhabit the Idolverse that this is even a remote possibility for me. You guys show up every week to read my scribblings and give me such support and encouragement as well as feedback that is invaluable… it’s because of you guys that I have even the smallest shred of confidence that what I write down could be enjoyable to others, that my stories might be worth reading.

It’s because of you guys and the support, encouragement and confidence that you are giving me that I’m finding that I’m more willing to put myself out there and roll the dice than I ever have been before in my life.

And from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you all for that. That is a kindness that I will never be able to repay other than to say thank you. If it weren’t for Idol, if it weren’t for you, I may have walked by this path and never gave it a second glance. But now that I’m on it, I plan on charging forward full speed ahead.

Though I know and will always remember that none of this would be possible if not for you guys.

When I began this journey, I didn’t expect Idol to take over my life like it has. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to become so involved with such an amazing group of people who continue to inspire me every single day. But you have. You do. So I thank you so very much for that.
I want to give special shout-outs to everybody who has deeply touched my life through this crazy, crazy game but I would undoubtedly leave people off that I hadn’t intended to. But I hope that you all know that you have. But there are three who I want to single out because what they’ve done for me is just amazing… first of all to clauderainsrm who created this wonderful space and started this whole ball rolling. Thank you, Gary. To porn_this_way, Klingon warrior extraordinaire… her friendship and laughter keeps me sane… or as close to it as I can get. Also to my absolutely amazing friend theafaye who is taking a big chance on me and has helped shift my thinking and focus, who is helping me to believe in myself… that is a debt that can never be repaid. And of course, to my wonderful and amazing pixiebelle who loves me through the good and the bad, who encourages me, gives me strength and courage when I have none, who believes in me when I don’t believe in myself and who kicks my ass when I need it. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

And thank YOU all out there reading this. From the bottom of my heart and a million times over, thank you. I don’t know what the future in this game holds, whether I'll make it through the week or what... but no matter what, I really do feel like I’ve already won.

And with that, I would like to dedicate this to all of you crazy denizens of the Idolverse…

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(B): Dedication. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Topic 36C (A): It Ain't Easy Being Green

java_fiend — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 00:39:26 GMT

The final installment of Hell Week has commenced... Here is my first of six entries to round things out... May the Idol gods be kind and generous.

As I look back over the landscape of my “dating career,” it seriously resembles a burned out, dystopian wasteland. The charred remains of vehicles litter the road, the burned out husks of buildings threaten to crumble everywhere and as far as you can see, nothing is alive. I’m pretty certain that Mad Max and his cronies would feel right at home there. (and if that reference dates me, shut up about it)

My dating history really is a series of mistakes, bad decisions and horrendous judgments. Too many times, a friend (or as is more likely the case, my sister) would give me that “oooh really?” face after introducing them to my new girlfriend. They’d tell me that they could smell the psycho on her a mile away. It got to the point where a committee was formed consisting of my sister and a few friends who would “evaluate” my newest suitress for compatibility, intelligence and most importantly, non-craziness. Yeah, it wasn’t often that I heeded the advice of the committee.

And it was all TOO often I had to return to them, tail between my legs, head down to say, “Yeah, you were right. Again.”

Bastards.

There is one who rises above the rest though… the Gold Medal Winner of Crazy, if you please. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her… Psycho.

See, I met Psycho when I was busy managing the Gondolas. She came in looking for a job, seemed reasonably nice and at the time, sane. I hired her and put her in the regular office rotation. She worked hard, did a good job, was funny and cool to be around.

I had a girlfriend that I was living with at the time and Psycho and I got to be good friends. The live-in girlfriend didn’t like her one bit. And told me that… often. Said she just got a bad vibe from her. As with the committee, I would shrug it off as paranoia and go on about my business. Well one day, Psycho brought me a gift. It was a Raiders ballcap. Being a big fan of the Raiders and of ballcaps, I thought it was a really nice, thoughtful gesture! Apparently, it had some hidden super-secret meaning in Girlworld that I was totally unaware of.

See, apparently in Girlworld, at least according to the ex-live-in girlfriend, a ballcap of one’s favorite team can be translated to… “I want to have hot, wildebeest sex with you.”
Huh. Who knew? Clearly, I needed to brush up on my Girl-ese.

So yeah… ex-live-in-girlfriend was beyond furious and Psycho was all smiles. Ex-live-in-girlfriend and I were on the downward slope of our relationship… no, it had nothing to do with Psycho… and eventually we called it quits. Well, Psycho was there to console me and help me pick up the pieces.

Yeah, you see where this is going, don’t you?

We were never in a relationship. I told her a billion and one times that I wasn’t ready for one and she said she understood and would be patient and in the meantime, we could do this other thing. Well, who am I to turn down this other thing? So yeah, that happened for a while.

Eventually, she started to want a more serious commitment than I was willing to give at the time… If jealousy is a green-eyed monster, Psycho was friggin’ Godzilla.

Well after I’d left Gondos, I was waiting tables in a new restaurant… I don’t recall ever telling her where I was working but voila, she’d show up unannounced and wait, sometimes more than an hour, for a table in my section. She’d question me about this waitress I was talking to or that waitress I was smiling at. She’d pester me and pester me the entire time she was there and would then keep pestering me with messages.

One night… it was Halloween, in fact. She wanted to do something but I begged off for a prior (and more fun, truth be told) commitment. I was getting ready to head to a friend’s party when I looked out the window and saw something strange… at the time, I lived in a cul de sac and if you’re familiar with cul de sac’s, you know that you can pretty much kiss any attempt at stealth goodbye. Well, I happened to see her driving by my place, headlights off doing that slow, creepy, stalker drive-by. She circled around the cul de sac and came back… because, that’s what you have to do in a place that dead ends like that.

I did the only thing I could think to do… I ducked down below the window. I heard her car stop, heard her get out, heard her feet coming up the walk, heard her knocking on the door… and still, I didn’t move. I barely took a breath until I heard her leave… which was roughly twenty minutes after she’d showed up to begin with! Apparently, the lights on and the loud music tipped her off to the fact that maybe I was inside.

I started getting really paranoid… where was she going to show up next? It seemed like no matter where I turned, she was there! I half-feared that she was going to be in the back seat of my car when I got in to go somewhere, pop out of my closet when I went to get dressed, jump out of the washing machine when I went to do some laundry. I kid you not, I was getting a little nervous about the whole thing!

So I did the only thing I thought I could do under the circumstances…. Kept seeing her, kept her happy and pacified and when I had a line on a new job and a new place to live, I bolted. No forwarding address, no new phone number, no new job notification, no nothing. I was a ghost, man.

For a long time I held my breath, waiting for the call or the knock on the door. Thankfully, it never came. I was free and I was liberated!

Until she found me on Facebook a year ago or so. Seeing the friend’s request sent chills down my spine and made me look over my shoulder again. I deleted the notification and all is right in the world again. And don't worry, pixiebelle... I know what a hat is code for now!

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36C(A): It Ain't Easy Being Green. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I have no clue what sort of madness to expect but it should be interesting. Thank you, guys. You keeping me in this game means the world to me!

Ye Olde Purge Bucket

java_fiend — Sat, 04 Aug 2012 19:00:09 GMT

Good Morning and Good Saturday Fellow Humans!

How is everybody today? How has your week been, my friends?

I've spent my morning piddling away... tinkering with a current piece, giving my kitter-cat a little love and trying to mentally work through POD II. I also have two of the six pieces for Idol this week nearing completion and I'm more or less happy with them, so that's good. Two down, four to go. *ugh*

I also spent a little time earlier watching videos of tornadoes on YouTube. I'm absolutely fascinated by the sheer power of Mother Nature. Tornadoes just totally and completely fascinate me. Volcanoes are a close second in terms of sheer fascination but for me, tornadoes top the list of things I MUST SEE! Sort of a weird fascination, I know. But hey, something about them just really gets me going. I am bound and determined to go tornado chasing before I'm too old and decrepit to fully appreciate the raw power. A while back, I found this company who will take you on a two-week tour that ranges from the Mexican to the Canadian borders and from the Rockies to the Indiana... so it's a HUGE chase area. But the cost is about $3,000 bucks. So yeah... maybe if I hit it big writing, I'll actually be able to take that tour. Otherwise, I may need to sell a kidney or something. I will make it out there one day, dammit. Just the thrill of seeing these monsters up close and personal would be a rush like I couldn't even imagine. I want and need to do this or I shall not die happy.

Like I said, it's an odd fascination but what are you gonna do?

Here's a little video I ran across for your viewing pleasure. Or dismay.

See? Fascinating and exciting stuff!

Thanks to everybody who chimed in on my update post last night. I'm still feeling a bit stressed and overwhelmed but a lot of the things you said on the post and in private emails means a lot to me. I really appreciate the support and encouragement, you guys. Seriously. I can't tell you how much it means to me. So thanks, guys. I'll keep churning along and we'll see what we see when the dust settles!

I need to get myself together so I can head down to pixiebelle's a bit earlier than normal... we need some time to hang out and relax before we slog through everything that needs to be slogged through today.

So... how was YOUR week, my friends? How has the Universe treated you? Has it given you warm fuzzies? Planted its boot in your ass? What have been the highlights and the lowlights of your week, good people?

Need to get up and shout? Need to get something off your chest? Need to rant, vent and otherwise scream out loud about something? Got a rant you're just dying to unleash? Want to give somebody some hugs and love? Need to hear some kind words today? Anything and everything is welcome here. Just step right up and let it fly!

This here is your stage, my friends. Step on up to the podium, grab the mic and let us know what's going on with you.

As always, the Purge Bucket is open for your convenience... spew forth, my friends!

Saturday Morning Music

java_fiend — Sat, 04 Aug 2012 17:16:12 GMT

Good Morning, Folks!

I do love my Saturday mornings... it's *my* time. Well... it's actually my time to cater to the wishes and whims of my feline companion. He started at about five this morning by knocking down my spare change jar, pulling over my computer speakers and because I fell asleep with the computer on last night, stood on the keyboard until the computer made this horrible beeping sound. Half-asleep, I'd chase him off the keyboard but he'd pop right back up on it when I tried to get back to sleep. I swear to Buddha, this cat is smart. Too smart for *my* own good, that's for sure.

Now he's had his breakfast, is fat and happy and is just curled up in my lap as I sip my coffee and tinker with a writing piece and play around online a bit. Gotta love cats, huh?

So... since music always fuels my Saturday, here's some of what's been on my playlist this morning...

So what's on your playlist this morning, folks?

Welcome to Hell

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 04:40:16 GMT

Hell Week, that is. Otherwise known as Week 36... also known as the week that wouldn't die!

So yeah... 6 topics, then 5 topics and now tonight 6 more topics. I've noticed that ever since Hell Week started, there has been a very distinct pattern of stages. Sort of like the stages of grief in a way.

When the eleventy-billion topics are announced, it sort of looks like this:

After the initial shock wears off and you realize how much work you have on your plate, it evolves into:

Then, as you furiously bang away at your keyboard, cursing your muse for abandoning you and watching the clock, knowing that the deadline will soon be upon you, you curse Gary and settle into a stage that looks like this:

When (if) the rage subsides and you are still furiously banging away at your keyboard, you realize that you have about 20 minutes to squeeze every last drop of creativity out of the increasingly dry sponge of your brain, you move into this territory:

And finally, when you post everything to your journal, link it to the topic thread and want nothing more than to drink ALL the alcohol and fall down, you feel a little punchy, loopy and you then find yourself rocking in the corner with a blanket over your head having a deep philosophical conversation with your cat. That stage looks sort of like this:

Then the next eleventy-billion topics are posted and the vicious cycle repeats itself all over again.

And the really funny thing? We do this to ourselves!!!!

But this crazy, out of control freakery is why I love this game so much. I am just a sick, masochistic bastard apparently.

Topic 36B (E): One Way or the Other

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 01:57:37 GMT

And here we are, still in the middle of Hell Week... it sure is living up to its name!

Here is the fifth and final of my five entries for the week. As always, may the Idol gods be kind and generous...

I watch the nurse come into the room and check on the patient in the bed. The machines beep, ping and whir in some sort of electronic symphony. The nurse, a kindly looking middle-aged woman, humming some song I couldn’t identify, made some notes on her chart, checked the machines and bustled out of the room leaving me alone with the body in the bed before me.

It’s a surreal thing to be standing in a hospital room looking at yourself lying in a bed just a few feet away from you. The body in front of me has a waxy, corpse-like complexion, a bluish tint to the lips and has so many lines and tubes hooked into it that it looks more machine than person. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to get into the face of the next person to walk through that door and demand that they look at me, demand that they fucking see me because I’m standing right here. Whatever that thing in the bed is, it’s not me. I’m right here!

“Hard to believe you’re looking at yourself, huh?”

I jump, startled and turn to see an older black man sitting in a chair by the door. He has a neatly trimmed gray beard that frames a kind face. He’s wearing a nicely tailored suit and wire-rim spectacles. I guess I’d call him distinguished looking.

“Y- you can see me?”

“I’m looking at you, ain’t I?” He asks. “And I’m talking to you too, huh? Name’s Tom.”

“I-I’m Jeff,” I say. “I’ve been standing here like forever, trying to get somebody to notice me.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeff,” he says. “And yeah, that tends to happen to people in your… condition.”

“My condition?”

“Well you’re not dead, kid,” he said. “But you’re not alive, either. The dead got it better if you ask me. They don’t got to hang around waiting like we do.”

“What do you mean?”

“The dead are dead like BAM,” he snaps his fingers at me. “They just go where ever it is the dead go. But people like you? Caught in that in between place? You got to hang around and wait.”

The man stands up and smiles at me. I look at the still figure in the bed, shaking my head and try to deny it.

“Yeah, it takes a while to wrap your head around it.”

He motions for me to follow him but I look at myself lying in the bed and am reluctant to go.
“Trust me,” the man says. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I slowly follow Tom out into the hallway half-afraid that my body will simply disappear if I’m not there to watch it. Nurses, patients and visitors all hustle by us on their way to where ever they were going, doing the business of the living. It’s interesting to see that though they apparently can’t see us, everybody walks around us as if we were standing there, taking up space in the hallway. Tom looks over at me, amused.

“They can’t see us,” he says. “But they can feel. Not exactly us, mind you. But something in their brains tells them they need to walk around this particular spot.”
I nod distractedly as I watch the people walking by us. I feel my anger rising, my jealousy. This isn’t fair. The accident wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the one who was driving drunk. And yet here I am anyway. This is just not fair.

“Life isn’t fair, kid.”

I look at him, ready to lash out but the look of sympathy and compassion on his face are enough to stop me in my tracks and make me swallow the biting words that were on my lips.

“What happened to you,” he says. “It just ain’t right. But there’s not much you can do about it except accept it and move on.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” I ask. “What if I want to go back.”

He smiles warmly and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“There is no going back,” he says. “You either move on or you sit here, in this hospital like me. And aside from the nurse’s dressing room, this is a pretty boring place, let me tell you.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “How long are you stuck here?”

“Until they decide to come fetch me, I suppose.”

“Are you like me?” I ask. “Is your… body still here hooked up to machines?”

He shakes his head. “No, my family pulled the plug a while back. My body’s gone but I’m still here because I didn’t go when they called.”

I suddenly felt myself pitying Tom. Not dead but not alive and stuck in this fucking hospital for eternity. And I thought I had it rough.

“Now look, kid,” he says. “You’ll have one opportunity to move on. I can’t say when because they’re about as reliable as the cable companies but you’ll just know. You’ll feel when it’s your time.”

“Feel it?”

He nods his head. “Yup. You’ll feel it,” he says and points to the elevator at the far end of the corridor. “And when you do, get your ass to that elevator and move on from this world. Enjoy your afterlife.”

I sigh and shake my head. “I just don’t know,” I say. “I’m not ready to go, Tom.”

“None of us are, kid,” he says. “But when our time’s up, our time’s up. Nothing we can do to put it off or get out of it.”

I think about it for a moment, still fighting back my anger at the injustice of it all. All I can do is shake my head.

“Why don’t you come with me then?” I ask.

“Can’t,” he says. “The elevator ain’t for me. When yours comes, it’s for you and you alone.”

“I just don’t know if I can do it,” I say. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go yet.”

Tom shrugs. “That’s up to you,” he says and smiles. “Your decision to make. Good luck, kid.”

He turns and starts to walk off.

“Where are you going?”

He turns back and smiles at me. “Shift change. Locker room should be full of nurses.”

I laugh and watch him walk down the corridor until he turns a corner and disappears from sight. The smile falls from my face and I walk back into the room where my body is. I have some thinking to do.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting there, staring at my lifeless body with a million thoughts running through my head. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time seems to move differently when you’re caught between the world of the living and the dead. I’ve watched nurses and doctors come and go. I’ve seen my mother and sister come in, tears spilling down their cheeks as they hold my lifeless hands. My dad is there too and though he remains stoic, I can see that his eyes are red and puffy. I want to reach out, hold them and comfort them but I can’t.

Eventually I’m left alone with myself and in the darkness of the room, I feel something sudden and powerful, compelling me to get up and step into the hallway. It’s the elevator. My elevator. I stand and slowly step out into the corridor. It’s well into the night and the hall is virtually empty. Three nurses sit at the duty station but of course, pay no attention to me.

At the far end, there is a loud ding as the elevator doors slide open, bathing the alcove in a blindingly white light. Voices, smooth and seductive call to me from inside the light. A shadow steps out of the elevator car and beckons me forward. My feet begin moving toward it seemingly of their own volition. The light, the voices and the music I can hear are hypnotic, intoxicating. This is it. My time on this world is done and I am leaving forever.

“No,” I say out loud and stop myself from moving. “I’m not ready. I don’t want to go.”

I feel the disappointment emanating from the shadow that was waiting for me. With the sort of effort it takes to run in wet sand, I manage to pull away, turn around and walk the other way. My walking eventually gives way to running. I’m screaming with rage and frustration as I bolt past my room and down the hall, turning into an adjacent corridor and sprinting for all I was worth. I went crashing through the double doors at the end of the corridor and found myself in a room shimmering with a silver light. I feel my body tingling for a moment and then my skin feels like it’s on fire. It hurts. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. The torment I’m suffering is powerful and agonizing. I open my mouth to scream…

… and open my eyes.

I’m staring at the ceiling of the hospital room. I can hear the beeping of the machine and feel the bed beneath me. A smiling face comes into my field of vision. The kindly older nurse who’s been watching over me.

“Well look who’s back,” she said.

*******

A few days later, after a million different tests, I am cleared to be discharged. I finish tying my shoes and stand up for the first time in I don’t know how long. The doctors tell me I’d been in a coma for several months. But it had only felt like a matter of days to me. My parents had been as shocked as I was when I came out of the coma. I could see in their eyes that they’d all but given up any hope. It made me wonder how close they’d come to pulling the plug on me, leaving me trapped like Tom. I’d called them earlier telling them that I wanted to walk home and that I’d meet them for dinner later. The sun was high overhead, it was a warm day. I wanted to get out and enjoy the afternoon.

Stepping out of the hospital, I walk along the street, breathing in the air and simply taking in the world around me. It sounds totally trite and cliché to say but after living through what I had, the world just seems different. The smells are richer and sweeter. The colors are more vibrant and I just feel more alive than I think I ever have before and I am just seeing things in a completely different light.

I’m looking forward to my life, anticipating the challenges and the joys it holds in store for me. I sat in my favorite coffee house sipping a drink and eating a blueberry scone as I mentally composed the list of things I would stop putting off and do with my life.
Jesus, I sound like a walking Lifetime Channel movie.

I finish up and headed outside. I need to see about my job and my apartment before heading over to my parent’s place this evening. I wait at the stoplight next to a couple of little girls and their mom. Their laughter and giggling makes me smile. I’ve never thought about having kids of my own but who knows? Maybe one day. I just need to find the right girl.
The light changes and I walk into the crosswalk.

It’s the squealing of tires that draw my attention first. I look up and see my reflection in the chrome grill of the bus.

There was no elevator, no music, voices of welcome or bright, shining light. There was only the darkness waiting to swallow me whole.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36B: Artifice. Thank you guys so freaking much for keeping me in the game this long. I have no idea what to expect this week so I guess you'll find out right along with me! Thank you SO much for your support over these crazy months!!!

Topic 36B (D): Mental Health Day

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 01:56:01 GMT

And here we are, still in the middle of Hell Week... it sure is living up to its name!

Here is the fourth of my five entries for the week. As always, may the Idol gods be kind and generous...

From: God thebigG777@godmail.com
To: Humanity
Date: Tuesday July 31, 2012 5:31pm
Subject: Vacation Time

To Whom it May Concern (and this concerns everybody),

It truly pains Me beyond belief to begin a missive to you all by quoting that mindless twit, Ann Romney. But to borrow a phrase from her, it is painfully obvious that “you people” down there have absolutely ZERO [expletive deleted] clue what it is that I do up here. To hear some of you tell it, you all must think that I sit up here on my ivory throne eating bon-bons, watching television and harvesting My belly-button lint. And because you think I’m sitting around on my Almighty arse doing nothing all day, I must be waiting for each and every one of your prayers to come in like a Twitter feed so that I can turn around and answer them like instantaneously! Are you even kidding Me with that [expletive deleted]?

Look, I don’t expect you to understand but running a Universe is some serious back-breaking, ball-busting work! Think of it this way… Try running every single facet of the company that you work for and then on top of that, throw in fourteen billion people calling you, emailing you, shouting your name (and not always in a good way) or tugging on your sleeve like an impatient 5-year old who just wet their pants every minute of every hour of every day to beg you to do them a solid. Think you can handle all of that? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Let Me tell you, it’s brutal. I’m on-call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. And unlike some of you all, I can’t call in sick and I can’t take a vacation.

Let Me be frank here, for a moment. You people (there’s that charming phrase again, thanks Ann. ha ha) are killing Me. Flat out [expletive deleted] killing Me.

I’m sitting up here watching what’s going on down there and let Me just say, WTF? Wars, genocides, gay-bashing, financial collapses, bankers ruining the lives of millions while they take in multi-million dollar bonuses, people dying from simple illnesses because they couldn’t afford the doctor’s bills, the Tea Party, poor people being blamed for everything from the Kennedy assassination to global warming, the big oil companies ruining the environment and gouging people at the pump while making record profits year after year after year. All of this has led Me to this one, simple question:

WHAT IN THE H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY-STICKS ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING DOWN THERE???

I gave you the Garden of Eden, I gave you intelligent thought and the capacity to learn and to think for yourselves. I gave you the ability to feel, compassion, kindness and a loving soul. I told you to love one another, to be gentle, to be kind and to treat each other like your own brothers and sisters. I told you to care for the poor and the sick. I told you to heal their wounds, clothe them, feed them and treat them with love and compassion. I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere before… oh yeah, it was in the [expletive deleted] BIBLE you all claim to love so well! I told you *ALL* of these things and more! There was no gray area.

Apparently I erred with that the whole “free will” thing because y’all have made a hash out of the world I gave you and the rules I set down. Not to mention that you have misinterpreted the [expletive deleted] out of just about everything I said! What is with… you people???

Look, I need a break. I need to get out of here and away from you people for a while. Call it a mental health day… maybe a mental health millennia, I don’t know yet. But before I go, let me just lay this out for you. Since the first 10 Commandments I sent down clearly didn’t stick, I think I need to reinforce that lesson a bit. Knowing that times have changed, let Me show you that I’m a “with it” deity and update those bad boys. No, the first 10 aren’t going anywhere so stop getting any ideas about murdering your parents or coveting your neighbor’s wife (not that I can blame you in some cases if you know what I mean, *wink wink nudge nudge* But they are still off limits!), I’m just adding a few more onto the list since you people (I’m really starting to like that phrase) seem to need a [expletive deleted] babysitter to wipe your noses for you.

So without further ado, I present to you, some more Commandments that are effective immediately:

1. Thou shall not be a greedy, money-grubbing prick who steps on, pushes down or otherwise screws over your fellow man for profit.

2. Thou shall not deny medical care to somebody simply because they cannot afford it. (some people call it Universal Healthcare but let’s call it what it really is… GODCare because that’s what *I* demanded of you way back in the day!)

3. Thou shall stop presuming to speak for Me. (ie: saying I *do* like this or *don’t* like that) I don’t hate” fags,” I don’t hate immigrants, I don’t hate murder victims, the poor, soldiers or Democrats. And I especially don’t hate the Swedes. What the [expletive deleted] did the Swedes ever do to you anyway?

4. Thou shall actually read the [expletive deleted] Bible if thou proclaims to be an authority on it.

5. Thou shall use that [expletive deleted] brain I gave thou to THINK for thouselves! That’s right, turn off the Fox News, stop listening to Rush, Hannity, Malkin, Coulter, O’Reilly and the billion other talking heads down there… or at least counterbalance that garbage with a brain enema and then actually crack a book, read an article, take a class, talk to somebody who doesn’t believe every single thing you do… do something productive with that gelatinous lump of meaty gray stuff in your skull for a change!

6. Thou shall stop spewing lies! Yeah I know, this one was covered before but some people are seriously not [expletive deleted] getting it so I’m feeling the need to make this crystal clear. STOP LYING! How hard is that? Yeah, I’m side-eyeing you, Mitt Romney.

7. Thou shall STOP being a bigoted [expletive deleted] Do you really think a couple in love who happen to be of the same gender are REALLY a threat to your marriage? Do you really think that somebody who is black, Hispanic, poor or a woman (among other things) is automatically less than you because of that? If so, please do me a favor and get off my planet now.

8. Thou shall stop listening to and encouraging Justin Bieber and those of his ilk. Seriously folks, what is up with this whole Bieber-fever thing? I give you the capacity to make music that can inspire the mind, nourish the soul, move the body and make the angels weep and you give us… that? Seriously? Thanks for a whole lot of nothing! (okay, this one may be a little self-serving, but I’m GOD so deal with it!)

9. Thou shall pull up thy damn pants! C’mon people, it is so unattractive, not to mention a health hazard to wear your pants around your knees with your dirty drawers all hanging out. That goes for you girls too… you may think it’s “hot” to have your thong all sticking out there too but trust me, it’s not. Personally, I hate sitting down to a nice hearty French Dip sammich and watching somebody flounce on by with their pants down and their butts out. Instant appetite killer. So seriously, KNOCK IT OFF!

And finally… probably the most important of My Commandments…

10. THOU SHALL NOT BE A DOUCHENOZZLE. What this means for you people is… love each other. Treat each other with kindness and respect. Look out and care for your fellow man. If somebody is down, help lift them up instead of kicking them again! We are indeed our brother’s keeper and we need to start believing it and living by that. Despite the struggle I see so many people have with this idea, it really isn’t that freaking hard of a concept! Come on people!

So there you go, boys and girls. 10 spiffy new Commandments to complement the 10 old ones. This should provide you with a pretty carefully constructed roadmap for living your life. Read them. Learn them. Know them. Love them. Live them.

Well, I should probably bring this missive to a close. I’ve got a cold boat drink and a hot little cocktail waitress all lined up, ready and waiting for me. If I’m lucky, I’ll even get some skee-ball in. Before you ask, no I won’t tell you where I’m heading. I’m totally unplugging and going off the grid. I just need to get away from you people for a bit. You can direct all of your prayers and requests to ol’ St. Peter. That old kook doesn’t have enough to do anyway and I will be completely incommunicado. So good luck to you and in my absence, try to not bring about the end of the world while I’m gone.
Sincerely,

G-Dizzle (see? I’m hep!)

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36B: Artifice. Thank you guys so freaking much for keeping me in the game this long. I have no idea what to expect this week so I guess you'll find out right along with me! Thank you SO much for your support over these crazy months!!!

Topic 36B (C): Visiting Hours

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 01:54:34 GMT

And here we are, still in the middle of Hell Week... it sure is living up to its name!

Here is the third of my five entries for the week. As always, may the Idol gods be kind and generous...

“Showdown, gentlemen.”

This was always my favorite part. The big reveal. I’m an adrenaline junkie by nature but hunting safaris to Africa or climbing Everest were something I’d likely never be able to afford so poker is about the only thing that gets me going. I’m not a high roller but the stakes are usually high enough that my wife would kick my ass if she knew. I usually do okay though. Never a big winner but never a big loser. But the chance that I could be was enough to keep the juices flowing.

The guy on the end wearing a cheesy Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses flipped his cards with a casual toss, no doubt the way he’d seen it done on television.

“One pair,” said the dealer, his voice dry and robotic. “Eights are high.”

The next guy in line, the accountant looking type with the bad rug, flipped over his cards with a confident gleam in his eye.

“One pair,” the dealer called again. “Tens are now high.”

It came to the third man at the table. He was clean cut and impeccably dressed in a neatly tailored and pressed suit. A suit that cost more than I’d probably make in a year. I’d been trying to figure him out all night. Reading people and the million different subtle signs that give us away is one of my talents. I’m damn good at it and I use it to my full advantage in every facet of life. But I couldn’t get a read on this guy. He had no tics and no tells that I could see. He clearly had money. He projected an air of cool, calm, calculation and quiet authority. I had him pegged as a CEO type. So why wasn’t he in the VIP room at some posh casino in Vegas or maybe Monte Carlo and playing in this little hole in the wall place instead?

He looked at me, gave me a small smirk and flipped his cards over.

“Straight,” the dealer called blandly. “To the ten.”

I saw the shoulders of the guy with the previous high hand slump in defeat. Again. For the past two hours, the winning hand had alternated between me and Mr. CEO. Two disgruntled players had already left the table, seeking their fortune elsewhere. All eyes at the table now rested on me. I paused long enough to return Mr. CEO’s smirk before flipping my cards over.

“Straight,” the dealer said. “To the Queen. Winning hand.”

Mr. CEO nodded to me, an inscrutable expression on his face as the other two players snorted derisively. The dealer collected all of the cards and began to shuffle once more.

“Well played,” said Mr. CEO, his voice deep, rich and carrying the hint of an accent. “You’re a very good player.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “So are you. We’ve been pushing each other pretty good all night.”

“Indeed.”

I settled back in my seat and took a sip of my drink. Mr. CEO’s eyes never left me and I was growing uncomfortable under his scrutiny. I tried to ignore him and looked around, taking in the frenzied whirling of the lights and people, listening to the low humming roar of the people winning and losing large and small sums of money all around us. I looked back and he was still looking at me, one corner of his mouth pulled up in an amused smirk.

“What?” I finally asked.

He leaned over the table, his eyes focused and intent. There was definitely something about this guy that just commanded your attention.

“I was just wondering,” he said. “If you’d be interested in playing for some slightly… more interesting stakes.”

I doubted that I could match this guy dollar for dollar but I was definitely interested and curious. The gambler in me was jumping at the chance to take this guy for a good chunk of change. Maybe it would be enough to buy my wife a new car. Or maybe on a real vacation. Not to mention just the charge I got out of winning.

“How much are we talking about?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s not money that interests me,” he replied.

A cold chill of fear and a tingle of excitement swept through me simultaneously. I wasn’t sure what to make of this man or his proposal.

“So what is it that interests you?” I said. “I honestly don’t have much of value.”

“Actually, you have quite a bit more than you think you do.”

The man snapped his fingers and all movement around the casino stopped. All except for Mr. CEO and I. No lights flashed, no slots were set to beeping and ringing, nobody cheered or shouted… it was as still and silent as the proverbial tomb. I wanted to jump to my feet but found myself rooted to my chair, completely dumbstruck as I looked around me.

“H- how did you do that?”

The man smiled and the sight of it poured ice water through my veins. “Just a simple parlor trick.”

I looked around, not believing what I was seeing. This had to be some sort of elaborate prank, right? Like one of those flash mob things?

“I assure you, Mr. Locke, this is no illusion,” the man said. “And this is no cheap stunt like a flash mob.”

I looked at him, stunned. “How do you know my name?” I asked. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’ll find that I know a great many things about you.”

I tried to speak but found that I had no voice. My mouth simply opened and closed like a fish that’s been pulled out of the water. We sat and stared at one another for a moment before I looked around at the crowd in the casino again. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke or laughed or even giggled. Nobody drew a breath. It was like being in the middle of a wax museum.

“Who are you?” I finally managed.

He smiled. “That depends on who you ask, I suppose,” he said. “I’m many things to many people. But then, names aren’t important anyway.”

“You know mine,” I said. “Only seems fair.”

“Very well,” he said and smiled. “You may call me Abaddon.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “So what are the stakes, Mr. Abbadon?”

He leaned back in his seat and stroked his beard, sizing me up. It felt like greasy snakes were wrestling around in my stomach and my hands trembled. I had no idea what was going on here but I didn’t like it.

“What would you say if I told you that I could make you wealthy well beyond your wildest dreams?” He started. “Provided you win the hand, of course.”

I looked him in the eye, trying to get some read on him but came up empty. I cleared my throat and tried to calm my racing heart.

“I don’t know,” I hoped I sounded casual. “My dreams are pretty wild.”

He leaned forward again and toyed with the chips in front of him. “And all of that can be yours,” he said. “Just imagine, being able to take that vacation to Paris with your wife that you’ve dreamed about. You can buy her a car for every day of the week. Anything and everything you could ever want could be at your disposal any time you want it.”

I ran a hand through my hair. I could feel the juices beginning to flow, feel my mind calculating the odds and feel that surge I call the gambler’s rush rolling through my body. Anything I could want whenever I wanted it? I liked the sound of it.

“And what am I putting up in return?”

“Your two daughters,” he said. “Katie and Kylie. Precious little things. That is what you are to put up.”

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded once again.

“My daughters?” I asked. I couldn’t have heard him right. “You want me to put my daughters up as a bet?”

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“You have to be joking.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ve observed them for quite some time and think that they would do very well down below with me. Their youth, their energy and vigor is just what I am in need of.”

“B-but those are my daughters.”

He rolled one of the chips between his knuckles. Smiling at me, he tossed the chip into the air where, in a puff of smoke, it turned into a bat and flew off. Given what I’d seen already in the last hour, it neither surprised nor frightened me.

“I will of course, make arrangements for you and your wife to visit them,” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not entirely cruel. We can set up biannual visits lasting an entire day in duration.”

I looked around, trying to organize my thoughts.

“Think of the life you could give them should you win the hand,” he pressed. “You could give them the world, every advantage you never got.”

It should have been as easy as saying “hell no” and storming away from the table. So why couldn’t I form the words? Why couldn’t I storm away? Why couldn’t I just tell this… thing in front of me to just get screwed and leave?

It was because I thought I could beat him.

With the thought coalescing in my head, tiny bursts of electricity seemed to go off in my head and body, encouraging me.

“So if I win,” I started. “I will be the wealthiest man on the planet?”

“By far,” he said. “The money will be in your bank account before you get up from the table.”

“But if I lose, you get to take my daughters to Hell or where ever you’re from?”

“And yourself and your wife will get biannual visits a day in duration to spend with them.”

I leaned back in my seat and looked up at the ceiling, a million different thoughts warring in my head. There were so many reasons to walk away, to not even consider the man’s offer. But there were so many in favor of it. Not the least of which was that by winning, I could provide for my family far better than I ever could at my current nine-to-fiver.

Abbadon tapped a chip against the table, his eyes locked onto me. “What is your decision, Mr. Locke?”

My heart flip-flopped in my chest and a feeling like a sheet of ice that had broken off of a glacier slid down my spine. I was dizzy and had the beginnings of what could turn into the mother of all headaches.

“Deal,” I said simply.

He laughed and clapped his hands. “Excellent.”

The dealer at the table suddenly came to life, shuffling and mixing the cards with mechanical precision. He looked up at us and nodded, oblivious to everything else. With quick flicks of his wrist, he dealt out our pocket cards before throwing down the three card flop. I snuck a quick glance at my pocket cards. I had a ten and a King. The flop gave me the Jack and Deuce of Clubs and the Nine of Hearts. I just needed a Queen to show her pretty face for me in one of the last two cards. I glanced at Abbadon but he gave me nothing but the air of pure confidence. Of course he did.

“The turn, gentlemen,” the dealer intoned.

He turned another card face up between us. The Four of Spades. No help to me but no help to him either. Abbadon eyed me, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth making my stomach churn even harder. He had something. Three of a kind? Oh Jesus, if he had trips and the card I needed didn’t show, I was done. Katie and Kylie would be taken away from me.
Oh God, what had I done?

“The river, gentlemen,” the dealer said. “Good luck.”

My heart stuttered drunkenly and I felt the sweat rolling down my face as he turned the card over. The Eight of Clubs. I sat still, looking at it, not believing it.

“Showdown, gentlemen.”

I looked up at Abbadon, tears in my eyes and adrenaline coursing through my body as I watched him turn over his pocket cards. The Ten of Hearts and the Queen of Diamonds.

“A straight,” Abbadon said, amusement in his voice. “To the Queen.”

I nodded absently but remained silent, my mind spinning and whirling.

“You’ve been called, Mr. Locke.”

My hand trembling, I reached out and turned my pocket cards over. I watched the look of shock register on Abbadon’s face which was followed by a darkening anger. He looked up at me, murder and fury in his eyes.

“The Ten and King of Clubs,” the dealer said. “The winning hand is a flush.”

Abbadon stood up and looked at me again. Without a word, he turned to leave.

“What about my winnings?” I called.

“I’m a man of my word,” he said over his shoulder as he stalked off.

He melted into the crowd and suddenly, everybody sprang to life once more. The slot machines beeped, buzzed and rang. The crowd was as loud and boisterous as before.

I pulled out my phone and logged into my bank account, waiting while it made the connection. I gasped and felt like I’d been punched in the gut when I saw the amount sitting there, waiting to be spent. People looked at me strangely as I exited the casino, my face glued to the screen and tears streaming down my face. I got in my car and started for home, stopping to pick some flowers up for my wife on the way.

We had a vacation to plan.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36B: Artifice. Thank you guys so freaking much for keeping me in the game this long. I have no idea what to expect this week so I guess you'll find out right along with me! Thank you SO much for your support over these crazy months!!!

Topic 36B (B): Hold Your Tongue

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 01:52:35 GMT

And here we are, still in the middle of Hell Week... it sure is living up to its name!

Here is the second of my five entries for the week. As always, may the Idol gods be kind and generous...

Whatever you do, don’t leave this spot,” Todd said. “Don’t move a muscle and whatever you do, don’t say a single world. Don’t make a single noise. If they can’t hear you or see you, they can’t find you.”

I nod. “What about you?”

We took shelter in the middle of a pile of massive stone boulders we’d come across. They are large enough that nobody would be able to see us. Unless they walk around the stones and find the entrance to the “cave.”

“I’m going for the highway,” he says. “I’m going to get us some help and bring them back here for you.”

“Todd no,” I say. “Don’t leave me here. What if they come back.”

“They can’t see you here, Des,” he says. “You’re invisible.”

“Let’s go together.”

He shakes his head. “We can’t,” he says. “I’m faster than you. But I won’t be able to run full out if I’m having to stop to make sure you’re keeping up.”

“Please don’t leave me here, Todd,” warm tears spill down my face. I’m so fucking scared. He grabs me and hugs me tight.

“It’s the only way we’re going to get out of this, babe,” he said.

“What if they find me?”

“They won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Once I start running, I’ll make enough noise to draw their attention,” he says. “They’ll be so busy chasing me that you’ll be safe. The highway is only a couple of miles from here. I can make it.”

I shake my head but his plan made sense. But that doesn’t stop the feeling of terror from flooding my body anyway.

“You’re going to be okay,” Todd says “We’re going to be okay. I’m bringing the cops back with me and we’re getting you out of here.”

My heart lurches in my chest and I feel sick to my stomach but I simply nod. He gives me another hug and a kiss on the forehead, tilting my head up so I can look him in the eye.

“We’re going to get out of this, honey,” he says.

“Be careful,” I say. “Please.”

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips and then I watch him squeeze his way between the rocks, leaving me hidden in the concealed cavity and disappears into the forest that lay beyond. The moon hangs full high in the sky and the world around me is cast in a shimmering, silvery light. I pray to whoever might be listening that he would make it to the highway safely and gets his ass back here soon.

*******

I sat in the passenger seat watching as Todd raised the hood on the car. Steam billowed out and drifted into the night sky.

“Shit,” I heard Todd say.

He walked back around and leaned in through the driver’s side window shaking his head.
“It’s fried,” he said. “Better call Auto Club.”

I pulled my cellphone out and turned it on. I looked at it and wanted to scream in frustration.

“No reception,” I said.

“Dammit,” he slams his hand down on the door.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a house back that way a little ways,” I said. “Let’s hike back and use their phone.”

We locked up the car and headed back down the road the way we’d come.

“It is sort of romantic out tonight, isn’t it?” I said, interlacing my fingers with his.
We walked along the two-lane highway, a cool evening breeze ruffling our hair. High overhead, the full moon shined down on us and the tress that lined the highway pressed close.

He laughed and squeezed my hand. “Way to find the silver lining.”

“I do what I can.”

After we’d walked a couple of miles, we found a dirt road that led up a small hill. A large house sat atop the hill and lights shone from all of the windows.

“Let’s call the cavalry,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of bad movies that start this way,” Todd said.

I punched him playfully in the arm and we walked up the hill and to the front door. I rapped on the door and stepped back, linking my arm with Todd’s. After a few moments, nobody had come to the door so I stepped up and knocked again.

“Wait,” Todd said as he cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Ssshhhh,” he said. “Listen.”

I strained my ears and listened, finally hearing what Todd had heard. It was faint but it sounded like chanting of some sort.

“Maybe we found some New Age retreat?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

We walked off the porch and around the house. We followed a path that led from the back door out into the woods beyond. The canopy overhead was thick and allowed very little moonlight through. But in a clearing up ahead, we saw what looked like a roaring bonfire.

“Hope we’re not messing with their chakra centers or anything,” Todd said, drawing a giggle out of me.

We stepped into the clearing and stopped, the smile dropping off of my face almost immediately. It took a moment to process what I was seeing but when I did, fear and adrenaline shot through me at the speed of light.

Twelve people in thick, dark robes with hoods pulled up over their heads stood around a raging bonfire. Beneath the hoods, the firelight glinted off of white, featureless and androgynous masks. In the center of the bonfire were the remains of what looked to have once been a woman, tied to a large poll. The body was smoking and charred beyond all recognition. On a large rock next to the fire, another woman had been tied in a spread eagle position. She’d been sliced open from pelvis to throat. The blood that saturated the rock gleamed in the firelight.

“What the fuck is going on?” Todd asked.

All twelve heads turned in our direction sending cold chills down my spine.

“Todd, we need to get out of hear.”

Moving nearly as one, all twelve masked people drew long, wicked looking knives from the folds of their robes and advanced on us.

“Run!” Todd pushed me ahead of him and we ran back down the path we’d come from.

The sound of voices yelling and cursing as well as the sound of footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.

“Run, Des,” Todd said. “Keep going, don’t stop.”

We made it back down the hill but rather than head back for the car, Todd urged me to cross the road and down a small embankment and into the forest. The voices were still behind us though they seemed somewhat more distant. We kept running. And running. And running some more. I was exhausted, breathing heavily and sweating profusely.

I stopped next to a massive rockpile, leaned against the stones and tried to catch my breath. Todd was winded but not nearly as bad as I was.

“I can’t keep going,” I gasped.

Todd disappeared around the rocks and came back to me. Without a word, he pulled me along with him around the rocks and pushed me toward a small, concealed crevice.

“Go,” he said. “In there. We can hide in there.”

We squeezed through the rocks and found ourselves in a small cavity in between them all. It was a bit of a tight fit but we were practically invisible. We’d just sat down when we heard footsteps crunching through the undergrowth around us. Todd clamped his hand over my face and put his finger to his lips. I nodded and held my breath as best as I could.

We sat there, huddled together for I don’t know how long. Eventually, the voices and the footsteps faded away, leaving us in the cold night air alone. I was beat. My legs were cramping and my chest hurt. I didn’t know what I was going to do if we were forced to run again. I didn’t think I could.

But Todd looked me in the eye and I knew he had a plan.

Whatever you do, don’t leave this spot,” Todd said. “Don’t move a muscle and whatever you do, don’t say a single world. Don’t make a single noise. If they can’t hear you or see you, they can’t find you.”

*******

Todd has been gone for more than two hours. I’m scared out of my mind and just know that something bad happened to him. I choke back my tears and try to make myself think.

“Get ahold of yourself,” I whisper.

It’s then that I feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up on end. I feel eyes on me. I look up and there they are. Three of them, still in their robes and masks standing on the rocks above me. I scream and squeeze myself out of the rocks and plunge into the night once again. My feet crunch over branches and rocks and I almost tumble several times. I can hear them behind me but I can also hear that they are fading. I’m putting some distance between us.

I run and keep running. My breathing is labored and I don’t know how much longer I can go on when I burst through the forest and on to the highway, pinned in a pair of headlights. I scream and try to duck to the side but the truck swerves and misses me. I move fast and open the passenger side door.

“Please, mister,” I gasp. “There are people after me. You have to help me.”

He nods and I close the door. He guns the engine and we rocket down the highway. Eventually my breathing evens out and my heart slows a beat or two.

“Thank you,” I say. “You saved my life.”

And that’s when I notice that on the seat between us lay a white, featureless, androgynous mask. He looks over at me and smiles.

“Lady, this just ain’t your lucky night.”

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36B: Artifice. Thank you guys so freaking much for keeping me in the game this long. I have no idea what to expect this week so I guess you'll find out right along with me! Thank you SO much for your support over these crazy months!!!

Topic 36B (A): Artifice

java_fiend — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 01:50:55 GMT

And here we are, still in the middle of Hell Week... it sure is living up to its name!

Here is the first of my five entries for the week. As always, may the Idol gods be kind and generous...

I have to make a really dorky confession. I love those paranormal shows on TV. Shows like A Haunting, Most Haunted, Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures and my newest obsession… the Dead Files. I love them. Can’t get enough of them. Well… until it’s proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that what they’re doing is nothing more than a trick, a deception, a carefully crafted ruse designed to titillate and entertain us, not necessarily to prove the existence of the paranormal. I am always a little bit crestfallen when indisputable proof crops up to prove that the current show in question is a bona fide phony baloney.

But every time a new program starts up, I swear that this one is going to be real because… not all of them can be fakes, right? Right???

You’d think I would have completely given up on those programs after all of the disappointment and heartbreak. But then, I’d say you don’t know how stubborn I can be.

Some who have absolutely nothing better to do at that moment in time might ask why I want to believe in the paranormal so badly. If you are one of the ones bored or unlucky enough to have asked me that question, I’d say that it’s because I believe in it wholeheartedly. I’ve experienced it my whole life. I’ve seen and experienced too much not to believe.
I know, I know, you might be thinking that what I’m about to share with you is nothing more than another carefully crafted ruse. A story designed to pull you in and make you believe something that just isn’t true. And you’re welcome to believe that but I can tell you that everything I’m about to write is 100% true. If I’m lying, may my beloved Oakland Raiders go winless for the entire season. And if you knew me, you’d know just how serious that swear really is! I could tell you a billion stories about things that have happened over the years. But since nobody wants to read quite that many stories, I’ll whittle it down to one good one.
Hey, I’m a giver like that.

I’ve been surrounded by ghosts for as far back as I can remember. Even when we moved, which was frequently when I was growing up, the ghosts didn’t take long to make themselves known. Things were often knocked over and spilled, footsteps were frequently heard as were strange and mysterious voices. Nothing was ever threatening or scary so it’s one of those things you just got used to. They were always with us. We knew it, they knew it and we all co-existed in peace and harmony.

It didn’t change as I got older, either. Even after I’d moved into my own apartments, the ghosts would seemingly go out of their way to let me know that I had another roomie. Which was fine and all. They didn’t eat much, didn’t piss all over the toilet without cleaning it up, didn’t leave dishes in the sink for a week and weren’t rude enough to wake me up at O-Dark-Thirty with some crappy ass music. In short, they were better roommates than I’d had until my sister and I decided to share a place.

For a while nothing happened in our first apartment. I was beginning to think that the streak had been broken and we’d moved into an uninhabited apartment. I was shocked. Well, a couple of years into our residence there, my sister had asked me if I’d come into her room the night before and tried to wake her. To which I replied that I had not. She told me that she felt a distinct tapping on her leg. Hard enough to bring her out of a dead sleep. Over the next few weeks, the voices started again and she also reported catching whiffs of a woman’s perfume that wasn’t her own.

Strange stuff that.

Well, late one night, she’d come home after a night out with her friends. She woke me up and was completely pissed off.

When I asked her what was up, I got a curt “Come with me” in reply.

Ummm… okay.

She led me to her room where a large, purple Tupperware-type box, the kind with the snap-on lids, sat on the floor. It was the one I knew she kept all of her three-thousand purses in. I shrugged and looked at her.

“Okay, what?” I asked.

“Stick your hand in there.”

I shrug again and stick my hand in. I’m surprised but all of the purses are wet. Soaked in fact. And in the bottom of the container, there is an inch-deep puddle of liquid. I pull my hand out, wipe it on my shorts and look at her.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then how did it get so wet in there?”

“I have no idea. Do you think I pissed in there or something?”

“Did your cats?”

“Given that they don’t have opposable thumbs, I highly doubt it.”

But somehow, the liquid was in there. Whatever the liquid was. There was no doubt about that.

They mystery though comes when trying to figure out how it got in there to begin with. The box, as I mentioned, had a snap-on lid. The lid was still in place when she came home. Not only was the lid in place, so were the shoes that sat on top of the box. By all appearances, nothing had been disturbed, nothing moved and nothing opened and/or closed. And again, I didn’t pee in the box just to mess with her. Not that I wouldn’t, I just didn’t do it that time.

But there was an inch of liquid and a couple dozen purses that were totally soaked. And to this day, we have no idea what happened or how it happened. Or what the mysterious liquid was. It’s a riddle that has yet to be solved but is just one more brick in that big paranormal wall we’ve lived with for all of our lives…

So I watch these shows hoping to find maybe some confirmation or validation of the things I’ve seen and experienced. I keep hoping that maybe somebody won’t be pulling a scam or some clever ruse and will turn up some indisputable PROOF of life on the other side.

It hasn’t happened yet but I keep hoping and hoping.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36B: Artifice. Thank you guys so freaking much for keeping me in the game this long. I have no idea what to expect this week so I guess you'll find out right along with me! Thank you SO much for your support over these crazy months!!!

Topic 36(F): Pain

java_fiend — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 00:53:19 GMT

Welcome to HELL WEEK y'all. Here is the sixth and final of my SIX entries for the week laid upon the altar of the mighty Idol gods. As always, may they be exceedingly kind and generous...

His eyes were wide, stretched open to the point of absurdity.

“Scream for me,” I said and smiled.

My fingers dug into his neck as I held him against the wall and pressed my lips to his. Slowly and steadily, I drew his life force out of him and took it into me. It was heady, intoxicating and altogether delicious. After a few moments, the rush of his force became a trickle and the trickle eventually dried up. I took a moment to savor his essence, to luxuriate in the warm flush of my body. Sighing, I dropped the dried out husk of body to the dirty and debris-strewn ground in the alley. Somebody would find him eventually.

Some people think it’s the thrill of the hunt, the chase that gives the kill its ultimate pleasure. But the people who say that are looking at it all wrong. It’s not the rush of excitement that gives the kill its flavor. It’s the fear and pain you cause your quarry that does. Look at it like this, when you take in somebody’s life force, their essence, it’s like vanilla ice cream. It’s nice but nothing to get excited about. But when you can add in extra emotions like fear, anguish, pain or the like, it’s like slopping on hot fudge, sprinkles and chocolate chips. It just makes it taste better.

The problem is, the essence of the people in this city is dwindling. I’ve lived for nearly four hundred years now and people way back lived a lot more than people seem to today, despite all of the advances that have been made as a species. People spend their lives worrying about nothing but work or keeping their jobs, the kids and their mortgage. I’m finding that people aren’t really living anymore. Oh, once in a while, I’ll stumble across the thrill-seeker, the adrenaline junkie who loves jumping out of airplanes or riding the world’s fastest roller coaster. Those people know how to live and that makes their essence sweeter and vastly more pleasurable. But most people today are so caught up in the mundane minutiae of day-to-day life that their life force, their essence is… well… as bland as their lives. They work, they eat, they shit and they fuck. As a result, I’m finding that it takes more and more to fill me up. Where I used to go a week or two between kills, fully satisfied, I’m on the hunt almost nightly now.

“Hey mister.”

The voice startles me. I’d assumed that I was alone with the drug dealer I’d had for dinner in that alleyway. Looking down, I can see a pair of eyes set in a dirty, grimy face peering out at me from a cardboard box.

“I didn’t see nothin’ or nothin’,” he says and coughs up some wet phlegm. “But do you got any change?”

I smile. “Tell you what, you are more than welcome to rifle through his pockets,” I motion to the dead man. “And whatever you find, you may keep.”

The man looks at me and I can smell the fear on him. Barely. His body odor does a splendid job of masking the scent I so crave.

“You’re like not gonna do the same nothin’ that happened to this guy to me, are ya?”

“Certainly not,” I laugh. “I have some standards and taste.”

I walk down the alleyway and out into the night not quite sated but in good spirits. I try to limit my kills to those who are a drain on society. Thugs, murderers, drug dealers, rapists… those who prey upon other people. I see a sort of poetic justice in it. Plus I see it as a point of civic pride. I’m just doing my part to keep our fair city clean. But I do draw the line at the homeless. They’re so often unclean and foul smelling that I can’t properly take their life force without retching.

I walk along the sidewalk, my hands in my pockets. The autumn air is cool and feels good against my skin. Cars crawl along the congested streets ,horns blare and middle fingers are extended. I watch everybody passing by me on their way to this meeting or that appointment, taking their kids to practice or to a recital. Everybody was so busy living their boring, tedious little lives. People really need to learn how to fucking live again.
So caught up in my reverie was I that I stumbled when I bumped into a girl coming out of a book store. She dropped her books on the ground at my feet.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“No, it’s my fault,” I said as I knelt down to pick her books up. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.

She smiled as I handed her books back to her. I noticed that they were books on travel to Europe.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Taking a vacation?”

She took the books from me and smiled, never quite meeting my eyes. “I am,” she said shyly. “It’s my dream to see the world.”

I smiled at her. “And a fine dream that is. I hope you get to see as much as you could possibly want.”

“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for bumping into you.”

“My fault entirely.”

I gave her a slight bow and watched her walk away. She was a cute girl. Cute but not stunningly attractive. But there was something about her that kept my eyes fixed on her. I inhaled deeply and felt a rush of excitement deep in my body. Her essence was pure. It was strong. It was powerful. And I had to have it. I hadn’t gotten a whiff of something like that in more than a decade and was slightly buzzed just from the scent of it. I imagine this is what junkies must feel like when they get a whiff of some pure heroin.

I started off the way she went, following well behind and keeping many people between us since I could track her by that amazing scent she exuded. It was full dark and there were fewer people out when she cut through the park. Being seen was always a risk but with so many bushes I could take her to in the park, I was willing to take the risk for a chance to taste her essence.

A cool breeze buffeted by me and I shuddered. Whether from the chill or because the wind carried a hint of that wonderful aroma, I couldn’t say. The trees and foliage in this part of the park were a little denser which served my purposes even better as it would be more difficult to be seen. I rounded a small bend in the path and drew up short. The girl was standing there holding her books to her chest and smiling at me.

“Are you following me?” She asked.

I looked down at the ground and attempted to look embarrassed. A difficult thing to pull off when you’re not exactly human and your mind is dizzy with the need to consume her that I felt.

“It appears so,” I said. “There is just something about you I found entirely compelling and I wished to speak to you again.”

“Is that so?”

I nodded and stepped closer to her, the mere scent of her arousing my senses even more and threatening to drive me into a frenzy. I breathed deeply, trying to control myself. As sweet as she was sure to be, I wanted the added toppings on my sundae.

“Well here I am,” she said and smiled demurely. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, in truth—”

My words were cut off as she dropped the books and in a flash, her hand had me by the throat, gripping me tight. I struggled for air as she drew her face so close to mine that the tips of our noses touched. A feeling akin to fear stole through my body as I watched the black pupils of her eyes expand until the whites were completely gone. Eyes darker than midnight in the desert stared back at me.

“You are a rare treat indeed,” she said. “I haven’t tasted one of your kind in decades.”

“Please,” I gasped. “Let go of me. I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.”

The tip of her forked tongue slid out of her mouth and licked my lips. She looked deeply into my eyes and smiled, a ghastly and terrifying sight.

“Scream for me.”

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36(F): Pain We're down the Final 8 left standing and things are getting intense! As always, thank you so much for stopping by to give me a read and thank you for all of your support over the course of this season. It really does mean the world to me and I know that I wouldn't be here without you guys. Should we have a poll this week, don't forget to stop on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread some voting-love around! THANK YOU EVERYBODY!

Topic 36(E): Pinnacle

java_fiend — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 00:51:08 GMT

Welcome to HELL WEEK y'all. Here is the fifth of my SIX entries for the week laid upon the altar of the mighty Idol gods. As always, may they be exceedingly kind and generous...

“The funny thing about getting to the very top,” he said. “Is that there’s nowhere else to go but down. Nobody ever really thinks about that.”

“What do you mean?”

The man took a heaping spoonful of the cold Spaghetti-O’s out of the can and chewed thoughtfully.

“Think about it,” he said as he chewed. “We got to a point where our civilization was at the very top of things. We’d cured cancer and most all fatal diseases. People were living well past a hundred years old. The world was peaceful and prosperous. Taken as a whole, things were pretty fucking good.”

The girl ate from her can of Ravioli-O’s and fell silent, seeming to be thinking over what he said. Or maybe she was just enjoying the rare treat of food, he couldn’t be sure.

“It’s happened to all of the civilizations throughout history,” he went on. “The Greeks, Romans, Aztecs, Mayans… all of them have one thing in common. When they’d reached the apex, they plummeted straight down into shit. And we seem to have gone down the shitter faster and more spectacularly than any of them.”

He looked at the girl and sighed. Though she was bright, she was still only thirteen. She was a sweet kid and probably had no idea what he was talking about.

“Maybe it’s God punishing us.”

A divine bitchslapping. Maybe so. Made as much sense as anything else.

“We should probably finish up here and get moving,” he said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

The sun was already cresting the horizon and he wanted to get some miles in today. He felt like they’d already walked the width of the country but they were closing in on the goal. The goal being shelter and safety. He ate the last spoonful out of the can and tossed it to the ground, wiping the spoon off on a rag and putting it back in his pack. He watched as the girl did the same. They gathered the rest of their things and shouldered their packs and weapons.

“You ready?”

She nodded and gave him a weak smile. She was tired. He could see the fatigue setting in around her eyes. But so was he. And they couldn’t afford to stop. If they stopped, they were as good as dead. They walked the small trail from the rocks they’d taken shelter in to the deserted highway. He desperately hoped that it would be another uneventful day but had a feeling there was trouble brewing.

“You think there’s going to be trouble today.” The girl said.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re tense,” she replied with a shrug. “I can see it.”

Definitely a bright girl. “Just keep a sharp eye out today.”

He scanned the land around them, looking for movement in the bushes, flocks of birds taking flight, anything that might tip him off to the fact that they were being stalked. They did that. They’d creep along, unseen and unnoticed until the time was right and then they’d pop up out of nowhere and eat your fucking face off. He’d been traveling with a couple of guys he met up with in eastern Utah and saw it firsthand; saw their bodies being torn apart and consumed. It still made sleeping difficult some nights. Though guilt may have had a part in that. A chill passed through him despite the fact that the heat was rising.

He and the two guys, Ken and Howard, had camped out in Cedar City that night. It was still dark when he woke up but he could see the sky beginning to glow with the soft hues of dawn. Getting up, he walked to a stand of trees to take a leak when he heard the footsteps. Ducking behind a tree, he saw three of them approaching the sleeping forms of Ken and Howard. His heart raced and he’d pissed himself standing there as he watched. He could have, should have, called out to them to warn them of what was descending. But he didn’t. He was terrified of drawing their attention and suffering the same fate as the two soon-to-be dead men. Stifling his own cries, he watched with terror and a grotesque fascination as the “zombies” fall on the two men. When they’d finished and had scrambled off, they’d left nothing behind but two pools of blood and bones that had been picked nearly clean.

“What do you mean?” The girl’s voice jarred him.

“Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“You did,” she said. “You said there was nothing you could have done anyway.”

“I did?”

The girl nodded and looked at him, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He shifted his pack and they walked on in silence with the sun beating down on them.
The end of the world had started in China. Trying to set the bar in medical research, the Chinese had implemented a series of drugs they claimed enhanced the senses, strength, brain function, the body’s healing process and our stamina. The Chinese scientists claimed that their drugs would almost make us almost super-human. And people by the millions and millions the world over had bought into it.

For a while, the drugs seemed to work. The good life on planet earth seemed to get even better. The trouble was that the Chinese scientists had never properly tested the drugs before taking them to market. Perhaps they never cared to. Profitability was king after all. Eventually, the drugs reversed course inside the body and wreaked havoc on a person’s brain. Instead of being super-human, people became stripped down, they became… animalistic. At first it was a few isolated cases that the authorities wrote off to some unknown disease. But then major cities around the world began reporting packs of these animals roaming the streets, destroying anything they could get their hands on as well as killing and eating anybody in their path.

The media had called them “zombies” when the shit hit the fan and the label stuck. Though they weren’t zombies in the Hollywood sense. These were not reanimated corpses who mindlessly shuffled around trying to eat people’s brains. Being bitten by one didn’t “infect” you. Chances were, if one bit you, you would die because they’d finish fucking eating you. These things were fast and they were smart. They lacked anything that made them “human” including verbal skills. They were simply brutal and efficient predators. When the major cities around the country had fallen into chaos and destruction and the tide of “zombies” couldn’t be stopped, the government and those wealthy enough to afford protected shelter were whisked away to the infamous “secret, undisclosed location.” Some speculated that it was in Colorado Springs, some in the Black Hills of South Dakota, others said it was somewhere in Kansas. But nobody knew for sure and most people were content to band together and fend for themselves. Though he avoided most after running into a few groups of people that had set themselves up as some feudal lord and treated everybody as the subjects of their little fiefdom.

“There’s a store ahead,” the girl said.

He shook all of the thoughts out of his head and looked up. Sure enough. About a hundred yards ahead of them lay the boarded up remnants of a gas station and convenience store.

“Okay, you remember how to use that pistol,” he said. “Just like I showed you, right?”

The girl nodded, clutching the small .38 and pointed the barrel at the ground just like he’d showed her. He never planned on her using it but he knew having a gun gave her some control and made her feel better.

“Good girl.”

They slowly approached the front doors of the gas station. Broken glass littered the ground and holes had been punched into the wood that covered the windows. He strained his ears, listening for the slightest sound. The girl looked at him, questions in her eyes. He motioned for her to get behind him. Lowering the shotgun and keeping it in the ready position, he pulled what was left of the door open and stepped inside. Trash and debris crunched beneath his foot as he held his breath while his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the store.
And then he heard it.

The sound of heavy, raspy breathing floated to him from out of the darkness.

“Angie, stay back,” he said. “There’s one of them in here.”

With a shriek, it came at him. His vision hadn’t yet fully adjusted but it didn’t matter. In close quarters like these, he stood a better than average chance of winning this battle. He saw its dim outline rapidly approaching him from the gloom. Carefully lining up the shot, he waited until he could see the whites of the zombie’s eyes before pulling the trigger. The shotgun kicked against his shoulder and the shot exploded like a cannon. The blast took it in the chest and threw it backwards, knocking it flat on its back.

“Stay out here for a minute,” he said to the girl.

He walked across the floor to where the thing lay, bleeding, wheezing and snarling. It was clearly in its death throes. This was another point where these “zombies” differed from the Hollywood creation… it didn’t take a headshot to kill them. As he looked at the creature on the ground before him, a wave of pity washed over him. This had once been somebody’s son, brother, husband maybe. Nobody deserved this kind of fate. He lowered the shotgun and pulled the trigger, ending its suffering.

“It’s okay now, Angie,” he called. “You can come in.”

She slowly made her way in, barrel of the gun pointed at the ground, eyes fixed on the corpse in the pile of debris. With wide eyes full of fear, she looked younger than her thirteen years.

“Don’t look at it, Angie,” he said. “It can’t hurt you. Go check the store room and see if there’s any food in there.”

She nodded and walked toward the back while I dug around the front of the store, looking for food. My search yielded an old box of crackers and a couple of candy bars. I slipped the chocolate in my pack. Angie might like the treat.

“Carl, I found Oreos!” Angie squealed from the back room.

Her childlike excitement made him smile. She was a good kid. One that he’d almost left to die.

After the incident with Ken and Howard, he had walked on and tried to forget. Tried to forget what he’d seen. Tried to forget his own cowardice. Taking shelter in an abandoned house in a suburb outside of Phoenix, he’d settled in and gave thought to staying there for a while. The neighborhood was quiet. There were no gun battles, nothing lurking in the dark, waiting to kill him… it was peaceful.

Late that night, he’d laid down on the makeshift bed he’d put together in the living room with the couch cushions and tattered old blankets he’d found. The sound of a girl shrieking split the night air. Peering out of the window, Carl saw her. The girl was running for all she was worth but three of those things were closing in on her.

He didn’t know what to do. The guilt about letting Ken and Howard die were weighing on him. Could he let this girl die such a horrible death? On the other hand, trying to step in might not only get her killed but get himself killed too. And wasn’t survival the name of the game these days?

The girl screamed in the darkness again, her terrified voice echoing throughout the deserted neighborhood.

“Dammit.”

Carl stepped out on the front porch just as the girl was running by the house. The “zombies” were running after her, laughing like lunatics escaping the asylum.

“Hey!”

The three things stopped and turned in his direction, wicked looking smiles on their faces to accompany that eerie laughter. From the corner of his eye, he saw the girl stop and turn toward him as well.

“Run, girl,” he shouted. “Keep running.”

As if by some silent accord, the zombies rushed him. His heart racing, Carl let them get closer and with trembling hands raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger. Pumped. Pulled it again. Pumped. Pulled it a third time. When the last of the booming echoes had faded, two teenaged boys and one teenaged girl lay on the ground, the blood pooling around their still forms. He hadn’t been forced to kill many of the things but every time he did, he couldn’t help but feel guilt. They’d been people just like him once.

“T-thank you.”

Carl spun, raising the shotgun again. The girl that had been running now stood at the foot of the porch looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“I told you to run.”

“You’re just like the first person I’ve seen in I don’t know how many weeks,”

“Where are your parents?”

The tears that had been standing in her eyes finally fell, silently rolling down her flushed cheeks.

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Carl turned to go into the house and heard her footsteps on the stairs behind him.

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “LA maybe. There’s supposed to be some safe zones there. But who knows? There’s supposed to be more in Oregon and Washington too.”

“C-can I stay with you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Look, kid,” Carl said. “I can barely keep myself alive. More of those things are probably going to show up now that I’ve shot those three. You’re not safe with me. I won’t be responsible for you.”

She took another step up. “I’m safer with you than I am on my own.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way kid—”

“Angie,” she said. “My name is Angie.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way Angie but I’m more of a loner. I don’t do well with people. Especially kids. And I sometimes have to move fast.”

“I can keep up,” she begged. “And pull my own weight. Please don’t leave me out here to die.”

Carl paused at the threshold. Guilt was worming its way into his head and into his heart. Try as he might, he could never completely forget the fact that he’d had a daughter once.

“Okay,” Carl said. “You can stay here with me. But just for tonight. Tomorrow we go our separate ways.”

“Okay,” she nodded and said quietly. “Do you happen to have any food?”

They’d been together for more than a month. He could never quite bring himself to send the girl on her way. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of his own daughter. Or maybe he just wanted to badly believe that she did.

“Carl?”

Her voice shook him out of his memories. “What?”

“There’s something outside,” she whispered. “I think it’s more of them.”

“Shit.”

He stood up and picked his way through all of the trash as quietly as he could. Angie followed him closely. Peering through a crack in the boards on the windows, Carl’s heart raced. Three of them stood on the highway in front of the store, heads raised, sniffing the air like goddamned dogs. Simultaneously, the three turned toward the store. The smell of the blood and gunpowder were still thick in the air inside. It was like a neon fucking light advertising that the buffet was open. He knew where this was going.

“Angie,” he whispered. “Very quietly get to the back of the store.”

“Are the coming?” Her voice trembled.

“Go.”

He heard her soft footsteps as she picked her way to the back of the store. Still sniffing the air, the zombies looked confused for a moment, as if they weren’t sure which direction the scent was coming from.

“Go on,” he whispered. “Keep moving.”

A sharp squeal was quickly followed by the sound of a metal rack toppling over as Angie fell heavily to the ground.

“Shit,” he said again.

Shrieking with triumph, the things headed straight for the door. Carl stepped into the doorway, lowered his shotgun and fired. The first blast took the thing in the chest, pitching it backward onto the pavement. He took the second in the knee, dropping it to the ground in pool of blood and bone shards.

He pulled the trigger the third time and his shotgun jammed.

“Oh fuck.”

The thing had closed to within feet of him as he stumbled backward, dropping the shotgun and reaching for the .45 in his waistband. It filled the doorway, a look of maniacal glee on its face. Carl screamed as he slipped in something wet and went down on his back, his breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh of air, the metal gun biting into his back. He looked at the thing advancing on him slowly. He’d never get the gun out in time. It may as well have been in Colorado for all the good it did him. This was it. His heart thundered as he realized that he was going to die. And Angie with him. He’d failed her every bit as much as he’d failed his own daughter.

“Run Angie,” he called. “Get the hell out of here now!”

The crack of a gun filled the air around him. He watched a blossom of blood spread out on the zombie’s ragged shirt. Carl was as confused as the creature looked. A second crack was followed by a third which was followed by a fourth. Each bullet hit its mark, the last punching a small hole just below the thing’s left eye, dropping it to the ground.
Carl looked over at Angie, smoke still pouring out of the barrel of the gun she held in hands that trembled. Her eyes were as wide as he was sure his own were.

“I-I’ve never killed anything before,” she said quietly as tears welled in her eyes. “But it was going to kill you.”

He stood up slowly and put his hand over hers, lowering the gun.

“You did great, Angie,” he said, lifting her chin to make her look him in the eye. “You did what you had to do and you saved my life. Thank you.”

She embraced him, burying her face in his shirt and sobbed. He stroked her hair and held her tightly. This was the world they lived in. People were no longer at the very top of the food chain and children were forced to kill to survive. It was a sad, fucked up world.
“We should get out of here,” he said. “We still have a long way to go.”

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36(E): Pinnacle. We're down the Final 8 left standing and things are getting intense! As always, thank you so much for stopping by to give me a read and thank you for all of your support over the course of this season. It really does mean the world to me and I know that I wouldn't be here without you guys. Should we have a poll this week, don't forget to stop on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread some voting-love around! THANK YOU EVERYBODY!

Topic 36(D): Tumbler

java_fiend — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 00:49:01 GMT

Welcome to HELL WEEK y'all. Here is the fourth of my SIX entries for the week laid upon the altar of the mighty Idol gods. As always, may they be exceedingly kind and generous...

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“When have you ever known me to joke?”

The morning sun beat down upon them, shirtless despite the frigid morning air. Devyn rolled his eyes and lunged forward with his sword. Marik easily parried the thrust and with his opponent off-balance, swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the dirt on his back. Marik smiled and leveled the point of his blade at Devyn’s throat.

“Besides, why couldn’t I?” Marik asked.

“To start with,” Devyn said. “You’re not a knight.”

Marik silently sheathed his sword and helped his friend to his feet.

“You’ve got skill with a blade,” Devyn continued. “But beating a stable hand in combat is one thing. Beating somebody formally trained in the arts of war is something else entirely.”

Marik rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I think I’d like the chance to try,” he said. “And could there be a better prize should I win?”

Devyn dusted himself off as he eyed his friend. “You love her that much?”

“I do.”

Marik heard the sound of the horses whickering and stomping the dirt as they walked back to the King’s stables to begin their morning chores.

“You’re forgetting a couple of things, you know.” Devyn said.

“What’s that?”

“You’re the King’s fool for one,” his friend said. “You’re a storyteller, a singer, a tumbler, an acrobat and jokester. You serve to amuse his royal ass and make him laugh. Not to marry his daughter.”

Marik laughed. “And the second thing?”

“That the tournament is only open to knights and those of noble birth. Of which, you are neither.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

The smell of hay and horseshit was heavy in the air. Marik didn’t mind serving as the King’s fool. It was a noble profession in its own right. His own father had served the Court and this King for many years before his advanced age forced him to retire. But like the heroes in the stories his mother used to tell him, he wanted more from this life than mucking stalls and being there for the “amusement” of his betters. He believed that he was destined for greater things.

“And how do you plan on getting around that, then?” Devyn pressed him.

Marik flashed him a smile that promised mischief. “I have a plan,” he said. “If you can contrive to be in the great hall when the petitions start today, you can see me in action.”

“Aye,” Devyn said. “I was afraid you had a plan. I just hope I’m not there to witness them cutting your damn fool head off.”

*******

Marik had cleaned himself and dressed in his motley well before the doors were opened to the great hall. King Caladen and his firstborn son, Prince Ault sat on a raised platform while he sat on the bottom step and to the right, his mandolin in hand. He strummed the strings and hummed a tune as the hall filled with Court nobles and the day’s petitioners.

“Fool,” called the Prince. “Play me a tune.”

“His name is Marik,” the King chastised his son. “He’s a good man and you will treat him with some dignity.”

The King had always been kind and had treated him with the same respect he afforded some nobles. More in some cases. And Marik loved him for that. His son was thirteen years and rapidly approaching manhood. The King was bringing him to official functions more often and grooming him for the throne.

He bowed his head to the Prince. “And what would it please my prince to hear?”

“Something lively, foo--,” the boy flushed. “Marik. Something lively.”

Marik smirked and let his fingers fly across the mandolin strings, a familiar tune coming to mind. It was one of the bawdier tavern songs he knew about a love triangle between a woman, a midget and a donkey. He belted it out with gusto which made the ladies of the Court, not to mention the Prince blush fiercely but made the King and the other nobles howl in laughter.

As he watched the line of petitioners settling their disputes and begging the indulgences of the King grow shorter and shorter, Marik’s nerves became frayed, his stomach twisting in knots. It was almost time. He caught sight of Devyn in the royal livery serving drinks to the nobles who stood clustered about. His friend looked over at him with questions in his eyes. Marik gave him a wink and a smile.

His breath caught in his throat as a door in the wall behind the throne opened and Princess Amarise she stepped through. She glided up on the platform next to her father, laying her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes briefly caught Marik’s before passing over him to the crowd of nobles in the hall. He wanted so badly to touch her, to look deeply into her eyes, to feel her hands upon his skin. His body ached for it.

“Is there anybody else with business before the King who wishes to be heard this day?” The voice of the royal page echoed around the stones of the great hall.

It was time. Now or never. If he acted, he could be signing his death warrant. In a couple of different ways in fact. If he did not, the woman he loved would be lost to him forever and he might as well not be alive anyway. Marik’s throat ran dry, his blood pounded in his ears and his heart thundered in his chest.

“Aye,” he croaked.

The page’s eyes turned to him and Marik cleared his throat.

“Aye,” he called again, his voice louder and stronger. “I have a petition for good King Caladen.”

All eyes in the great hall turned to him as he stood up and set his mandolin on the step. The King looked at him curiously, seemingly not sure if he was playing a joke or not. Marik took off the silly hat he wore, dropped it on the mandolin and on knees that were trembling, took his place at the foot of the platform where the petitioners stood. The silence in the hall was physical, tangible and entirely oppressive. Marik could feel Amarise’s eyes on him and felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

“And what is it you would have of me, sir Marik?” The King’s voice was full of mirth.

“I- I wish to,” he cleared his throat again. “I wish to beg your indulgence, Your Grace.”

“My indulgence for what, good sir?”

Marik looked up at the King for the first time, cutting his eyes briefly to the beautiful raven-haired girl beside him.

“Your Grace,” Marik started. “I wish to compete in the tournament for Princess Amarise’s hand in marriage.”

The silence in the hall reigned a moment longer before it exploded in riotous laughter. Humor shone in the King’s eyes, sure that he was being put on. Amarise’s cheeks flushed but her eyes were wide and burned with shock and anger. Eventually the din of laughter receded though Marik could still hear pockets of snickering behind him. The King looked at him and perhaps saw the seriousness in his face for he regarded Marik with a critical eye.

“But you are not a knight,” the King said. “Nor are you of noble birth.”

“No, I’m not a knight,” he replied smoothly. “But neither were half of the men in this hall before they bent their knee to you. I offer my sword and my loyalty to you, Your Grace.”

A smile tugged at the corner of the King’s mouth. “But you have no lands to offer my daughter,” he said. “Nothing of real worth or value.”

“I would argue that true love is a most valuable commodity, Your Grace,” Marik said and flashed his best smile. “And as for lands, you have more than enough for the two of us.”

Shocked gasps sounded around the room and the Prince looked at him with unveiled hatred. The King scrutinized him, an inscrutable expression on his face. Marik wasn’t sure if he was intrigued or irritated at this point, whether he’d let him compete or just cut his head off then and there.

“Good sir,” the King said. “You have served me well for many years now just as your father did before you. You have never failed to lift my spirits. Never once. A good jester is a rare and difficult thing to find. If I let you compete, you are sure to be killed and I will lack humor and laughter in this hall.”

“It is not difficult to find a fool at all, Your Grace,” he said. “Why, I bet if you threw a rock behind me, you’d be sure to hit more than a dozen of them.”

The King laughed long and hard. Some in the gallery followed suit while others grumbled and cursed him. Eventually, the King raised his hand and the hall fell silent again.

“Were it solely my decision, I would say no,” the King said. “I love you too well and would miss your presence in my hall far too much. But I will let the choice reside with my daughter.”

All eyes turned to Amarise who blushed beneath the attention. She seemed to press herself against her father a little more, trying to hide from all of the prying eyes.

“What say you, my fair daughter,” the King started. “Will you have Marik fight for the honor of your hand?”

Marik looked at her, his eyes urging her forward, begging her to let him compete. She stared at him for a moment before closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“If he truly wants to be killed,” she said sadly. “Let him fight.”

The King sighed heavily. “I will miss you, Marik. I mean that.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

*******

“Are you a fool?”

Amarise paced the chamber, furious with him. Marik sat in a chair before the fire, staring into the flames, the full weight of what he’d done finally sinking in.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we could finally be together,” he said quietly.

“We cannot be together,” she huffed. “If you’re dead.”

Marik pulled her down into his lap and circled her waist with his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“If you were to marry somebody else,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to live anyway.”

She stroked his hair. “I love you,” she said. “Don’t say that.”

“It is the truth.”

Her black hair cascaded down and tickled his face as looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling up in them. One slid down her cheek and he wiped it away.

“Do you not think me capable of winning?”

She remained silent and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Marik simply nodded. He loved her with everything in him. He had since he was a young boy and caught a glimpse of her. And he knew that she loved him just as well. They had been seeing each other clandestinely for more than a year and with each day that passed, he loved her even more. Marik knew that his life would be incomplete without her. When the King had announced the tournament for her hand in marriage, he knew that whatever the odds, he had to take the risk. Or he’d lose her forever.

“Your father told me that when I win this tournament,” he said. “He will knight me as well as grant me titles and lands to ensure that you live in the manner you are accustomed to.”

“I love you, Marik,” she said quietly. “I do not wish to see you killed.”

“I do not wish that either,” he replied. “I plan on us spending many, many years together.”

Amarise said nothing, staring silently at the fire as tears streamed down her face. Marik kissed her cheek and held her close.

*******

Marik woke before dawn and stepped outside. The sky was streaked with soft hues of pink and purple as dawn began to overtake the land. By the end of the day, Marik would either have his every wish granted or he would be dead.

“Enjoying your last sunrise, are you?” The voice came from behind him. “There’s still time for you to run away, you know. No shame in that. Well, not much shame anyway.”

He smiled as Devyn walked up beside him and handed him a mug of beer.

“I would be honored to have you serve as my squire today,” Marik said. “Will you stand with me?”

“You know I will.”

Marik nodded. He knew that the knights who had come in from all over the realm for the chance to wed Amarise would soon be stirring, having hearty breakfasts and preparing their armor.”

“I’ve been able to cobble together some armor for you to wear today,” Devyn said. “It looks like shit and none of it matches but it should keep the edge of a blade from opening you up.”

Shaking his head, he turned to his friend. “No armor,” he said. “I’m good with the blade but it will be my acrobatic and tumbling skills that will help me the most today. I’m quicker than all of them will be in their armor. It’s the only advantage I have.”

Devyn sighed. “It only takes one edge to spill your guts all over the dirt in the arena,” he said. “Will you at least wear a shirt of mail to give yourself some protection?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Marik nodded.

The crowd roared and cheered as the jousters went at each other in the arena. Bodies flew, crashing heavily to the ground as the lances blasted them from their saddle. The day was warm and Marik felt the sweat running down his back. He closed his eyes and said a prayer to the gods as he tried to calm his racing heart.

“It’s time,” Devyn said.

Marik opened his eyes to see seven knights in full armor with wicked looking swords on their hips marching into the arena. The page announced them, listing off their lengthy list of titles as they presented themselves one by one before the royal family who sat in their pavilion above the arena floor.

He took a deep breath and strode into the arena with Devyn by his side. The shirt of mail was heavier than he wanted but it was flexible and offered some protection from the blades. He tried to tune out the catcalls and laughter that accompanied his entrance though there was a smattering of cheering and support, he was glad to note.

“I present to you, my lords and ladies, Marik… the Fool,” the page announced, confusion in his words.

Marik smiled and clapped the page on the back. He bowed deeply to the King, turning and bowing to the Queen and the Prince and finally bowing to Amarise. He stood and looked into her eyes, hoping to see some spark of hope or belief but saw only sadness and loss there.

“Where is your armor, Marik?” The King called. “Surely a knight needs his armor?”

“Good question,” whispered Devyn which earned him an elbow in the ribs.

“If one plans on being cut then yes, a knight does need his armor, Your Grace,” he called back. “But my opponents cannot strike what they cannot catch.”

Some of the nobles in the pavilion laughed along with the King.

“Well said,” the King called.

Marik stepped into the line of knights that would be battling, looking them up and down. Sizing them up. They all laughed to one another as they eyed him. Marik smiled, knowing that since he wasn’t wearing a bulky suit of armor like them, he had a distinct advantage in terms of mobility. He just needed to make sure he took advantage of that.

“Gentlemen,” the King called. “Good sirs and brave knights. You have come from all over the kingdom for the opportunity to wed my daughter, the Princess Amarise. All you need do is prove your worth in combat. The last man standing in this melee wins the right to her hand with my blessing. Though I would prefer a bloodless, non-lethal melee, you will fight as you see fit. Good luck to you all and may the gods be with you this day.”

The King returned to his seat and the knights started to fan out in the arena, forming a large circle. Heart thundering in his chest, Marik walked backwards, keeping his eyes on his opponents while keeping his distance from them. His plan, such as it was, was to let all of them pair up. Certainly some of these knights held grudges and had scores to settle with one another. Marik was content to take the leftovers. Chances were good that if nobody bore a grudge against him, he wasn’t particularly well-renowned to begin with.

A silence fell over the arena as everybody seemed to be holding their breath. The page dropped the flag and the place exploded in cheers and screams. Marik watched as three pairs of knights squared off with each other. Grudge knights, just like he’d thought. But where was the seventh?

He felt him before he ever heard the armor of the knight creaking as he strode up behind him. Marik rolled to the side just as a large, heavy blade cut through the air where he’d been standing just a moment before and slammed into the ground. He had little doubt that he would have been sliced in half had he been a moment slower.

“I can’t believe the King let trash like you fight for his daughter’s hand,” the voice was tinny and muffled behind his helm.

“He thought the field needed a little class,” Marik said. “Besides, he likes me better than he likes you. He told me so himself.”

The knight took a wicked cut that Marik avoided with ease. He countered by bringing his sword down as hard as he could on the hand of the knight. The knight screamed in agony as Marik felt the bones give and heard the crunch of his hand beneath his dulled blade. Seeing the knight simply switching sword hands, Marik moved quickly and planted his foot into the man’s chest, letting the weight of the man’s armor drive him to the ground. He placed the point of his blade against the hollow of his throat.

“Do you yield?” Marik shouted.

The man hesitated so Marik applied a little pressure with the point of his blade. “Do you yield?”

The knight raised his hands. “I yield.”

Marik kicked the guy’s sword away and turned just as another blade came whistling at his face. He managed to get his own sword up to block it just in time though it drove him to a knee. The knight lanced out with his foot and caught Marik in the face, opening a cut just below his eye. He could feel the blood, warm and sticky running down his face.

The knight pressed his advantage and came forward, sword raised above his head, poised for the killing blow. Acting instinctively, Marik jumped to his feet and lunged forward, the tip of his blade leading the way. The knight had foolishly not worn his armored throat guard and Marik’s blade bit deep into his flesh, blood spraying out in a gush. Marik pulled his sword back as the man fell to his knees before dropping face first into the dirt, a pool of blood spreading out around him.

He looked around the arena. Six of the seven knights competing were down. Some dead, some had yielded. The seventh knight, in white enameled armor circled him, his sword held at the ready. Marik watched him circle, watched the way he moved, so graceful and feline-esque and a cold chill ran through him. It was Sir Glabell from the Southern provinces. Marik knew him by reputation and did not know if he could beat him.

“Tell you what,” Marik called. “Yield now and you won’t have to tell anybody you were beaten by the Court Jester.”

“Tell you what,” the knight called back as he removed his helmet. “Yield now and I’ll still cut your heart out.”

“Well that’s not much incentive to yield, is it?”

The knight rushed in, feinting to the left before bringing the blade in from the right. Marik grunted as the blade bit through his mail shirt and opened a gash on his arm. He swung his sword and it caught the knight in the side, glancing off of his armor. Marik rolled to his right as the knight brought his sword down again, narrowly missing his leg. Popping back up, he found himself slightly behind the knight who was slowly bringing his blade up again. Striking quickly, Marik drove the point of his blade into the unprotected area behind the knight’s knee. Sir Glabell screamed and fell forward, blood flowing from his injured leg.

Marik held the tip of his sword to the back of the man’s neck. “Do you yield, sir?”

In a flash of movement, the downed knight got to his knees and drove his hand backward, the point of a dagger biting into Marik’s thigh. He screamed and grabbed at his injured leg. Using the distraction, the knight turned and started to rise. Seeing the movement, Marik drove the point of his sword into Sir Glabell’s throat with an animalistic scream. The knight fell to the ground, blood bubbling from his mouth and wet, gurlging gasps coming from his throat as he died.

His breathing labored, his body aching and blood flowing from his multiple wounds, he felt Amarise’s arms encircle him, felt her lips upon his forehead and he knew that everything would be alright.

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36(D): Tumbler. We're down the Final 8 left standing and things are getting intense! As always, thank you so much for stopping by to give me a read and thank you for all of your support over the course of this season. It really does mean the world to me and I know that I wouldn't be here without you guys. Should we have a poll this week, don't forget to stop on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread some voting-love around! THANK YOU EVERYBODY!

Topic 36(C): Nostalgic

java_fiend — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 00:47:13 GMT

Welcome to HELL WEEK y'all. Here is the third of my SIX entries for the week laid upon the altar of the mighty Idol gods. As always, may they be exceedingly kind and generous...

“You should totally cut his pecker off.”

My friend Abby was a bit eccentric and never one to mince words.

“Seriously,” she continued. “Get him drunk and when he passes out, cut it off and send it to his new tramp.”

I laughed in spite of myself. Where my best friend and roommate Carla was my rock and sounding board for reason, Abby was always able to make me laugh with her dark yet infectious humor. Working in the campus bookstore together, we’d become fast friends and she was a trusted confidant. The light was dim and the air was cool in the storeroom where we were slowly cataloging the inventory, preparing a shipment to send back to the main warehouse.

“I just miss how things used to be, you know?”

Matt and I had started dating as sophomores in high school. We’d spent countless nights talking about our future together, planning it. He was everything I’d ever wanted in another person and he made me happier than anything else in my life ever had. But once we’d gotten to college, he started to change. Gone was the kind, sweet boy I’d fallen in love with. The one who would bring me flowers for no reason and say the sweetest things at the most random times. He became arrogant and condescending. He started to ridicule and belittle me. Often in public. And I found out that he’d cheated on me a number of times. I’ve never felt smaller before in my life.

Abby nodded but remained focused on recording the SKU numbers correction. She was nothing, if not diligent about her work. Which would explain why she was on every single academic honor roll on campus.

“If you want my honest opinion,” she started without looking at me. “And even if you don’t, I’m going to give it to you anyway. I think you’re sort of creating a fantasy in your head about it all. Maybe things were good. Maybe they were great even. But it was probably never the Ozzie and Harriet, white picket fence sort of world you’re making it seem to be in your head. Nobody is that perfect.”

I looked down at the clipboard in my hand and said nothing. Abby took my hand and looked me in the eyes. The compassion and sympathy I saw on Abby’s face brought tears to my eyes.
“We all do that though. It’s natural,” Abby said. “It’s easier for us to look back and see the good stuff while we gloss over the stuff that wasn’t so good. I know I’m guilty of it.”
I wiped away the tears as Abby took the clipboard from my hands and set it on a stack of books.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s take a break.”

The night was dark and cool. A soft wind rustled through the tops of the trees making a dry scratchy sound. Abby leaned against the brick building and lit a cigarette, the bluish smoke drifting away on the evening breeze. I opened my bottle of water and took a drink, looking up at the few stars that were visible.

“You still love him that much, huh?” Abby asked as she took a drag from her cigarette.

I nodded. “I miss him. I’ve tried shutting it off,” I said quietly. “It just doesn’t work. Every time I see him, my heart breaks all over again.”

“If you could have him back right now, just as he is,” Abby said, looking me in the eye. “Would you really want him?”

It took me less than a second to answer. “Yes.”

A sadness crept into her eyes as she nodded. “Okay, let me see what I can do.”

*******

I sat at a table in the campus pub a few days later. It was early so the crush of bodies that filled the place every night hadn’t made their way in just yet. The pub was always busy but Friday nights were especially hectic. I sipped the glass of cider I’d ordered while I waited. A few minutes later, Abby slid into the seat across from me and downed half of the beer I’d ordered for her in a single swallow.

“That hits the spot,” she said.

I smiled and hoped that I’d be able to head back to my dorm soon. I wasn’t feeling very social and really didn’t want to be here when the frat boys started showing up.
“So,” Abby started. “I talked to a special friend of mine and I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

Abby took another sip off her bottle and set it back down. She looked at me, her expression serious.

“Before I give it to you,” she said. “Do you remember what I asked you the other night?”
I nodded, curious.

“And you’re still sure?”

I nodded again.

“Okay,” she said. “Personally, I think you deserve better but maybe this is what you need to help you work it out.”

Abby reached into her bag and came out with a small dark-colored vial. She handed it over to me and I felt the liquid sloshing around inside.

“What is it,” I asked as I started to remove the cap.

“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Leave the lid on until it’s ready to be used. And don’t take any of it yourself.”

I set it down on the table in front of me and looked at it. Concern began to creep into the back of my mind. What was Abby up to?

“This isn’t like poison or something is it?” I whispered.

She laughed and clapped her hands together.

“Give me a break,” she said. “I love you but do you really think I’d go to prison for you?”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, feeling foolish. Abby finished off her beer and waved at the waitress for another.

“So what is it then?”

“It’s a love potion.”

“Seriously?” I was annoyed that she’d decided to make a joke of it all.

“My friend swears up and down that this will work,” Abby said. “And judging by the things I’ve seen her do, I believe it.”

“What is she, a witch?” I asked, irritation in my voice.

“Something like that.” Abby said. “Look, you slip this into his drink and see what happens. Worst case scenario, nothing happens and it costs you nothing.”

“And if it does work, he comes rushing back to me to declare his undying love, huh?”

Abby nodded, waiting for the waitress to leave after dropping off her beer. “And you owe my friend fifty bucks.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “You know that, right?”

She shrugged. “Maybe so. But let’s find out.”

For the next hour, we sat and drank as we talked. My head was starting to spin and I knew that studying was out of the question for the night. As we sat, the evening crowd began filtering in. It wasn’t long before the pub was filled mostly with frat boys and sorority girls, all loud and obnoxious. My breath caught in my throat when Matt walked in. His girlfriend trailed a few feet behind him, texting away on her phone. She was blonde, big-breasted and looked incredibly cheap. But maybe I was a little biased. My heart thumped painfully against my ribs and I felt like I wanted to cry. He saw me sitting at the table and gave me a smirk as he walked past.

“Yeah, he just exudes Eau de Asshole,” Abby said and rolled her eyes. “I can see why you want him back so bad.”

I finished off the cider in my glass and set it back down on the table. “I have to get out of here.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Abby said. “Hold your horses for a minute. Let’s see if my friend’s little potion works first.”

“And how exactly are we going to manage that?”

Abby looked around and then back at me, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She grabbed the bottle, gave me a wink and without a word, got up and walked over to the bar. She took a drink from the bottle of beer the bartender had given her and then using her back as a shield, poured the contents of the vial into the bottle. Abby looked over at her as she swirled the bottle around and flashed me a smile before walking over to where Matt was standing. I watched Abby lean against the bar and hand him the beer as she talked to him. The conversation went on for a few minutes, Abby putting on quite the show of laughing at his jokes and flirting with him. Matt’s girlfriend stood off to the side, pouting and glowering at Abby which made me laugh. Pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, Abby wrote something down on a piece of paper, handed it to Matt and sauntered off. A very heated and animated conversation with his girlfriend followed in Abby’s wake.

Abby headed for the door and gave me the “come on” tilt of her head. I finished my cider and followed her out the front door.

“Did you give him your number?” I laughed when I’d caught up with Abby.

“I gave him the number to the local sperm bank,” she said. “Memorizing that number was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“You are a genius.”

“Yes I am.”

“So I guess we’ll see if I owe your friend fifty bucks or not, huh?”

Abby nodded. “You better have been sure, that’s all I can say.”

Fog, thick and dense rolled in making what was usually a pleasant walk back to the dorms somehow foreboding and creepy.

*******

It was just after six the following morning and I was sitting in bed looking at my phone like it was a snake ready to bite me. It was the fourth time he’d called in the last hour.

“Will you answer that damn thing,” Carla grumbled. “Your ringtone is annoying as hell and I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Anna whispered.

Carla rolled over and clamped a pillow over her head. I looked at the name on the display screen again and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Matt. Looking over at Carla again, I got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. Quietly closing the door behind me, I answered.

“Matt, it’s six in the morning on a Saturday morning!”

“I’m sorry baby,” he said. “I just had this feeling like I needed to talk to you as soon as I could.”

Just the sound of his voice was enough to make my heart flutter and sent off the butterflies in my stomach. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“There’s some things I want to explain,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. “What?”

“I’d rather not do it over the phone,” he said, his voice sweet and reassuring. “Can I see you in person?”

Hope bloomed in my chest. Had the love potion Abby’s friend put together really worked? Was my Matt, the boy I’d fallen in love with really coming back to me?

“Okay when?

“Ten minutes?”

“Matt, it’s six in the morning.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I just don’t think I can wait. I want… no, I need to see you, Anna. Please?”

I bit my lip and thought about it for a second.

“Twenty minutes,” I finally said.

“Great. Twenty minutes,” he almost shouted. “At the coffee house?”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Oh and Anna?” He said. “It’s so great to hear your voice again. I've missed you.”

I hung up and my heart beat against my chest like a bird trapped in a box.

*******

Matt was standing outside of the closed coffee house pacing. He wore the same clothes I saw him in the night before. He looked wired and like he hadn’t slept. From a distance, he looked like he was on something.

“Babe,” he waved and sprinted over to me, crushing me in a full body hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”

I disentangled myself from his embrace, my mind and emotions swirling a million miles an hour.

“Wait, Matt,” I said. “I can’t just jump back into it so easily. You really hurt me.”

He looked hurt that I’d pulled away but quickly recovered.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. “And I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I want to spend the rest of my life making that up to you.”

My mind and my heart were at war with each other. I wanted to believe him, give in to him again. But something was holding me back. Something was whispering in the back of my mind. I wanted to tune it out, to ignore it. I wanted to have Matt hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Anna please,” he said. “I really am sorry for everything. You have to believe me. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?”

He shrugged and looked at the ground, shuffling his feet. “I just got caught up in the whole college and fraternity thing,” he said. “I know I was an asshole to you and I’m sorry, Anna.”
I had to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I’d wanted to hear these words from him for so long now.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“I broke it off with her last night,” he said. “When I saw you in the pub, I realized that I wanted to be with you. Nobody but you. Ever again.”

I wanted to believe him so desperately. He looked and sounded sincere but still, something held me back.

“Abby and Carla both say I should just move on,” she said. “That you don’t deserve me.”

Matt nodded. “They’re probably right,” he said. “I don’t deserve you right now. But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you, Anna. I swear it.”

My head spun and my heart lurched. I felt drunk.

“I don’t know, Matt,” I said. “I need to think.”

I turned and started to walk away but he stepped in my path, gripping both of my arms. I looked into his face and saw a wild desperation in his eyes that scared me.

“Matt don’t,” I said. “You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t listen to them, Anna,” he said. “They just want to keep us apart. We belong together. We always have.”

I struggled to free myself from his grip but he only tightened it. I finally wrenched free and took a few steps away from him.

“I need to think, Matt,” I said. “I just need to think.”

I turned and ran back to my dorm room.

*******

It had been more than a week since I’d met with Matt in front of the coffee house. I found flowers outside of my door every single day and though I did my best to avoid him, he continually turned up everywhere I went. Every time we spoke, I could see that the desperation, the obsession in him to win me back was growing wilder and more frantic. The look in his eyes sent chills through me.

I thought about it a lot and came to the realization that everything he’d said that morning was everything I’d wanted to hear. And though I’d desperately wanted to believe it, every last word of it and take Matt back into my life, I couldn’t. What he’d said, the emotion he’d poured out to me wasn’t genuine and it wasn’t sincere. It was the potion Abby’s friend had concocted. I couldn’t believe it worked but it apparently had. Matt was simply telling me whatever it was he thought would get him back in the door and I knew that things could never be the same again. And I realized that I didn’t want them if they couldn’t be.

I walked through the quad with Carla and Abby. Classes were done for the day and we’d decided to go catch a movie. As we headed for the parking lot, Matt stepped out from behind a tree.

“Anna,” he said, shooting a glance at the girls. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

His hair was mussed and he looked like he hadn’t showered or shaved in a week. There was something feral and wild about him.

“We’re on our way out to a movie,” I said. “Maybe some other time, Matt.”

He stepped closer to me. “Why are you being like this? Is it because of these bitches?”

Abby stepped between Matt and I, put her hands on his chest and pushed him backward.

“Who are you calling bitches, asshole?”

“I swear to God,” he said. “You had better get your ass out of the way and let me talk to Anna.”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby asked.

“She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you,” Carla chimed in.

I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as people walking by openly gawked at us.

“Anna,” he called over Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t let these bitches come between us. We belong together. You know that.”

Carla pulled out her phone and dialed. “Matt, you had best take your ass out of here. I’m calling campus security.”

In a flash of movement, Matt shouldered by Abby, smacked the phone out of Carla’s hand and seized me by the arms.

“Let’s get out of here, Anna,” he said. “Let’s go to Europe like we’d always talked about.”

Carla’s hand came flying in seemingly out of nowhere and smacked Matt across the face. He looked stunned for a moment before a mask of rage took over. He snarled and raised his fist, intending to punch Carla. I stood wide-eyed as Abby screamed and grabbed his arm, trying prevent him from swinging.

“Dude,” one of Matt’s frat brothers stepped in and stood nose to nose with him. “You’re not really going to punch her are you?”

As if coming out of a stupor, Matt shook his head. He looked around, confused.

“C’mon bro, let’s get you back to the house.”

His friend began herding him away. Matt looked over at me again.

“We belong together, Anna,” he said. “Don’t let anybody, least of all these dyke bitches come between us!”

*******

It had been a little more than a week since the incident in the quad. I hadn’t seen or heard from Matt which I took as a good sign. Abby told me her friend said that the potion would eventually run its course and its effects would dissipate. I was ready for everything to go back to normal again. I texted Abby and Carla to see if they wanted to study tonight but hadn’t heard back from them yet so I figured I’d get in some studying on my own before I met up with them.

I stopped by the coffee house and grabbed a drink, needing a caffeine infusion before studying for my microbiology mid-term. I walked into the building and up the stairs, walking down the long empty hall to my room. Juggling my drink, books and keys, I managed to unlock the door and step inside feeling good again for the first time in a while. I smiled when I saw the large box next to Carla’s bed. Obviously her mom had sent another care package which meant we’d be sharing some homemade cookies later tonight.

A surge of fear and adrenaline shot through my body when the door slammed behind me. I dropped my cup and it hit the floor with a splash, spilling coffee all over my shoes. Matt casually locked the door and pressed his body close to mine.

“I told you they couldn’t keep us apart.”

I backed up, my legs eventually connecting with my bed. I was out of room. For the first time, I looked at him. His hair was wilder than ever, his eyes even more so and the wicked, predatory smile on his face set my heart beating hard enough to crack my ribs. But it was the blood all over his shirt that held my attention. He was soaked in it.

“M-Matt,” I said. “What happened.”

“We’re going to be together forever, Anna,” he said, his voice completely emotionless. “I wasn’t going to let them come between us.”

He motioned to the box next to Carla’s bed. I looked down and tried to scream only to find that I had no voice.

Sitting inside the blood soaked box were Abby and Carla’s heads, their lifeless eyes staring straight at me.

“It’s just you and me now, Anna.”

This has been my entry for therealljidol Season 8, Topic 36(C): Nostalgic. We're down the Final 8 left standing and things are getting intense! As always, thank you so much for stopping by to give me a read and thank you for all of your support over the course of this season. It really does mean the world to me and I know that I wouldn't be here without you guys. Should we have a poll this week, don't forget to stop on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread some voting-love around! THANK YOU EVERYBODY!