The music began to play in that oddly sweet stink of my friend's car and I began to feel delicate flames pouring forth from my eyes like blood.
They seemed to gently flow out and downward and rise upwards when they dissipated.
The experience was new to me and naturally I was afraid that my friend would think less of me if he saw my eyes pouring fire so I closed them and put on my sunglasses. When I opened my eyes, I saw my sunglasses in the passenger side mirror and the flames were creeping out the sides of the shades.
The metal in my soul was hidden for a moment with the brunt of the heat behind the dark shades I wore but this was my best friend of 20 years and I knew I couldn't hide for too long before he generally read my mind.
He must have missed the commotion in my brain, though, because he suddenly burst out, "Why ya being so quiet, ya jerk?!?"
The Japanese had finally succeeded in making a song so metal my inner demon had burst into flames and started seeping out my eyeballs.
In the last few moments before I looked back over at him my mind was racing.
He won't understand.
I'm going to freak him out.
This is Alex, he knows something's up.
What is he going to say?
What is he going to think?
He'll keep his calm...
He'll understand...
I turned to face him and removed my sunglasses only to see his entire head in flames.
He looked over for a second and caught a glimpse of my eyes as he began to laugh out loud at the flames pouring from them.
"Newb," he said.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
The collector
I sat at a bar and the rotten stench of spilled beer and cigarette ashes was everywhere. My contact approached me and I recognized his face immediately.
"How are you my friend?" He said with that thick Slavic tone I had known for 18 years.
"Alright. Last night was better," I said.
"tell me about it," he said.
So I began:
Into the mouth of the beast I looked. He was drooling but asleep, and his nose sniffed the air every 2 minutes or so.
Unfortunately fortunately, I was covered in his urine from the mud pile next to his cage. He had no idea I was anything but him.
At a closer glance, I noticed he was also so old and senile that he wouldn't have chased a Nazi screaming "Heil Hitler!" in his face.
I ran for the "secret room" I had seen earlier that day on a tour of the grounds. I had to avoid both security and "old un-reliable," but everything seemed pretty standard and routine so work went like clockwork.
It all seemed a little easy considering the guards were conveniently preoccupied with a temperature change in an art aquarium.
Art nuts, I'll never get it.
I grabbed the chip without problem. I didn't even have to move the statue but unfortunately for me, I wasn't alone.
She looked into my eyes and winked.
"Okay, let's go," I thought to myself.
We danced so hard the walls of the art preserve turned into lead slug tapestries. When we met in the middle she kissed me loud enough and quick enough to hear the bang, and her knees hitting the floor for the last time.
The rest of the night was pretty good.
"How are you my friend?" He said with that thick Slavic tone I had known for 18 years.
"Alright. Last night was better," I said.
"tell me about it," he said.
So I began:
Into the mouth of the beast I looked. He was drooling but asleep, and his nose sniffed the air every 2 minutes or so.
Unfortunately fortunately, I was covered in his urine from the mud pile next to his cage. He had no idea I was anything but him.
At a closer glance, I noticed he was also so old and senile that he wouldn't have chased a Nazi screaming "Heil Hitler!" in his face.
I ran for the "secret room" I had seen earlier that day on a tour of the grounds. I had to avoid both security and "old un-reliable," but everything seemed pretty standard and routine so work went like clockwork.
It all seemed a little easy considering the guards were conveniently preoccupied with a temperature change in an art aquarium.
Art nuts, I'll never get it.
I grabbed the chip without problem. I didn't even have to move the statue but unfortunately for me, I wasn't alone.
She looked into my eyes and winked.
"Okay, let's go," I thought to myself.
We danced so hard the walls of the art preserve turned into lead slug tapestries. When we met in the middle she kissed me loud enough and quick enough to hear the bang, and her knees hitting the floor for the last time.
The rest of the night was pretty good.
Amnesia Dream
The light from the house burned my retinas like heaven and an angel stepped out of it.
"Who are you?" I thought to myself.
She walked with stunning posture and poise and brought me gently down to my knees with her gaze. Thoughts swam through my mind like serpents with LSD venom, about the important event that had happened 15 years prior to this moment and connected me with this seraph. As if a surge of electricity hit me I was suddenly brought through other moments in time; I saw things and began to remember.
In a brief flash I saw a cake and a party and then a quick transfer to another scene of being blind to her face one instant, and the next being blinded by the light that shined from her heart through her eyes.
As she finally made it to where I sat, blind, on the backs of my feet, scanning time its self to know who she was, she embraced me. In a gut reaction, blurted something out loud:
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too," she said, "And have for 17 years."
My thoughts went back to this day, this event, 15 years ago, what was it.
I woke up and looked over and saw the seraph lying next to me and as I did, I made sure to tell my wife I loved her before I returned to my dreaming.
"Who are you?" I thought to myself.
She walked with stunning posture and poise and brought me gently down to my knees with her gaze. Thoughts swam through my mind like serpents with LSD venom, about the important event that had happened 15 years prior to this moment and connected me with this seraph. As if a surge of electricity hit me I was suddenly brought through other moments in time; I saw things and began to remember.
In a brief flash I saw a cake and a party and then a quick transfer to another scene of being blind to her face one instant, and the next being blinded by the light that shined from her heart through her eyes.
As she finally made it to where I sat, blind, on the backs of my feet, scanning time its self to know who she was, she embraced me. In a gut reaction, blurted something out loud:
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too," she said, "And have for 17 years."
My thoughts went back to this day, this event, 15 years ago, what was it.
I woke up and looked over and saw the seraph lying next to me and as I did, I made sure to tell my wife I loved her before I returned to my dreaming.
The Reckoning
The last thing I remembered was that bar in Monterey. Her smooth recklessness making way for her subsequent, "spending the night."
The heat was unbearable and the town smelled like ash from the fires a few miles away.
"Fuck it all," I thought out loud, "It's only business, and the drinking doesn't even start till noon."
So I dropped 20 hits of acid and waited for her to wake up. It was a bad idea considering she woke up speaking basic Russian and somehow I understood her.
"When did I take Russian?" I thought out loud again.
The cool California breezes blew across my nostrils and I thought again of the fire.
"Ya lublu tevya," she said, and I locked and loaded my GLock.
The heat was unbearable and the town smelled like ash from the fires a few miles away.
"Fuck it all," I thought out loud, "It's only business, and the drinking doesn't even start till noon."
So I dropped 20 hits of acid and waited for her to wake up. It was a bad idea considering she woke up speaking basic Russian and somehow I understood her.
"When did I take Russian?" I thought out loud again.
The cool California breezes blew across my nostrils and I thought again of the fire.
"Ya lublu tevya," she said, and I locked and loaded my GLock.
Vignette
She Walked up to him in the alley behind the shoddy drug store and lit a cigarette. Nervously she watched him for a few minutes and said nothing as she puffed away. A breeze blew and fanned out her skirt.
Without warning she asked the ultimate question between the two, "Why do you always look down when I come into the store?"
He looked down.
He then pulled a long drag of courage from his unfiltered Ace and upon looking up, he looked her directly in the eyes for his reply.
"You're beautiful..." He said.
He looked away at the street lamp, which seemed to hum in agreement, the back into her eyes, "...but you are perfect in your eyes. Your 'stunning curves' and 'sculpted body' are wasted on a fool like me because you melt the muscles in my legs when I look into your eyes."
The two stood locked in gaze for a moment and she looked away.
He continued to stare at her eyes the way an old man watches the ocean and gets lost in his immortal wisdoms.
"well, bye," She said.
She turned and began to walk away.
He puffed on his cigarrette and looked up at the stars, and the wind blew, and the street lamp agreed.
Without warning she asked the ultimate question between the two, "Why do you always look down when I come into the store?"
He looked down.
He then pulled a long drag of courage from his unfiltered Ace and upon looking up, he looked her directly in the eyes for his reply.
"You're beautiful..." He said.
He looked away at the street lamp, which seemed to hum in agreement, the back into her eyes, "...but you are perfect in your eyes. Your 'stunning curves' and 'sculpted body' are wasted on a fool like me because you melt the muscles in my legs when I look into your eyes."
The two stood locked in gaze for a moment and she looked away.
He continued to stare at her eyes the way an old man watches the ocean and gets lost in his immortal wisdoms.
"well, bye," She said.
She turned and began to walk away.
He puffed on his cigarrette and looked up at the stars, and the wind blew, and the street lamp agreed.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Chronicles of Soullessness [1/29/2009]
I stand outside a bar with quiet verisimilitude. I’m probably the only one around with such thoughts on my mind and absolutely drenched in true reality. She waits outside making desperate phone calls to some special someone who has broken her heart. She is Puerto Rican and a Latin goddess at that.
The night air breezes by and I light up a cigarette waiting for the human response that is desperation to make one of them crack. The thick air and smoke clog my lungs but I take it all in with silent breath and exhale with the force of a god.
I am Menelaus waiting outside the gates of Troy for my Helen, meanwhile ready to fight the entire Trojan army alone if she will not come out. The street lamp above me goes out and I am now sitting there in darkness with a half-grin on my face. The light coming at me gives me dark half-circles under my eyes and all of a sudden, as if by magic, she sees me and becomes entranced. My gaze stairs straight into her eyes and it is not accompanied by emotion. It is selfless and true yet dark and foreboding.
She walks towards me without thought of the road she walks on.
I am her poison and she is my addiction.
I toss my cigarette away and stare into her eyes. I can see her pathetic passion arising as if she was about to hand me her heart through her chest and yet I do nothing but stare at her quizzically and lose my smile. I am not after her passion. When I was alive, I was corrupted by it but now I only seek for redemption of my addiction.
I wink with an evil smile and walk towards my car. She follows like I was an evil mother hen.
The ride back nothing is said by me. She talks at me and tells me the story of some lost romance and keeps on asking me who I am and why I'm not talking. She asks me what's on my mind and I stop and think to myself, "your soul"
We return to the house. The door is open and no one is home. They must have gone out for a minute but I notice there's no car so they must have gone further then I thought.
My hunger wells up in me as I remember home. The endless nightmare of life a thousand years and seeing those who I care about corrupted by the poisonous blood that runs through these veins. Visions of ships, in now New York harbor, docked and exporting hundreds a day to an alleyway where the stench is so strong not even a gas mask could protect you.
I can remember a small town in Ireland where a foreigner one day came to stay. Her beauty was poles apart from that of any local girl. I was enchanted by her essence and allure and before I knew it, She was in my room on top of the in.
She showed me her shoulder slipping out of the dress she was wearing and at the speed of light, she was hitting me with her body and kissing me with such force that reality its self disappeared. It was as if I was in another dimension and even my surroundings changed as she sunk her teeth into my neck. I felt the gentle tug and sharp pain of two syringes deep within my jugular vein. My head went weak and the poison of her saliva entered my neck.
Like a mosquito, she could have kept on drinking till she exploded but suddenly she pulled her teeth off my neck and I fell off of her; watching my illusionary existence melt away like an oil painting with turpentine thrown on it. It was beautiful and morbid and I felt my heart stopping. Love ending, passion dying, fear passing and consciousness its self evanescing. She drew a knife from her bag and I begged her to murder me but she slit her wrist and told me to drink.
I bit her with a hunger I had never felt before. Even if I had not eaten for weeks as my family had, I could not have feasted like I did now.
The door swung open to my house and I stepped inside. No one was home as I had expected and I pulled her close to me. The scent of her hair drove me wild. My teeth began to grow like that of a snake from its gums and I bit down with all my force. She had no desire to scream and pulled me closer. The fire in my soul burned again and I felt fulfilled. I drained her not only of her blood but also of her soul. The fire, the flames, the high. That feeling of the painting melting all over again. Images flashing of a girl sitting alone with her mascara running down her cheek and the wonderful warmth of her soul in my mouth.
The vampyr from the bar smiled and stroked the back of my head as I died. She looked out the window and smiled and said, "the sun is setting my child. Watch."
I watched the sun set for the last time and closed my eyes and felt nothing. We made love for the rest of the night and there were no regrets.
At four AM, we drained the bar and left it with corpses all around.
At one point I had been shot with a musket and yet, the bullet and the wound healed instantly.
As the sun came up, we rode off in a black carriage toward a castle in the West of Ireland. There we made our home before moving from place to place with the hunger of the Vampyr increasing. We had our fill till we moved to America.
It was 1959 and she had crashed into a fight between rival gangs in the Hell's Kitchen area of Manhattan, New York City. She was murdered and I dragged her out of the area before the police showed and found two others murdered.
My first, my hostess, my eternal was dead. The steak in the midst of the gang war was uncommon so I resolved to look for her murderer.
It had been 48 years and I had found this girl who had not aged. I would have to drain her worse than I had any other victim. She reached for her coat as I feared my life and threw her to a corner. Her face had changed. She was Dumpeil; I could taste it in her blood. A half breed who killed its own kind. My emotions still ranked none but I prepared to kill for my hostess.
She held a stake in her foreign hand and prepared to finish me off.
"I have waited for you murderer," she says. "My blood runs cold and hot, and I can see your soul as well as the ones you have taken from me and my country." "My family moved to New York to find you and your whore and it's a shame I couldn't have finished you both off in '59."
I said nothing but smiled at how quickly her mood changed. She was an impeccable liar. "You are weak young one. It is not wise to fight the elder."
"My mother murdered my father because of you. Do you remember her? 1868. The confusion and revolts must have made things easy for you. death was all around at that time and you raped and drained an innocent woman," she said.
"Your bleeding and you strength is low, I would not recommend fighting me now child," I said.
"I will die before you leave this house," she said.
I threw her with the force of Zeus at a wall that broke open and she stood. Once again I was on her with her stake across the room. I drained her till my eyes closed and something strange started to happen.
"You can't take Vampyr blood can you? It is that of your own kind and kills you like an overdose of drugs. You are dying you vapid creature," she said.
"I will not be killed by a pathetic half breed," I said.
"The night is not over yet subhuman, I have not had my fill of you, just yet," She said.
Her fangs sank into my neck and I shrieked as I was raped by this creature who I was about to murder.
We watched the moon outside and drained the tenement at 4:00 AM. From here, there was only destiny.
The night air breezes by and I light up a cigarette waiting for the human response that is desperation to make one of them crack. The thick air and smoke clog my lungs but I take it all in with silent breath and exhale with the force of a god.
I am Menelaus waiting outside the gates of Troy for my Helen, meanwhile ready to fight the entire Trojan army alone if she will not come out. The street lamp above me goes out and I am now sitting there in darkness with a half-grin on my face. The light coming at me gives me dark half-circles under my eyes and all of a sudden, as if by magic, she sees me and becomes entranced. My gaze stairs straight into her eyes and it is not accompanied by emotion. It is selfless and true yet dark and foreboding.
She walks towards me without thought of the road she walks on.
I am her poison and she is my addiction.
I toss my cigarette away and stare into her eyes. I can see her pathetic passion arising as if she was about to hand me her heart through her chest and yet I do nothing but stare at her quizzically and lose my smile. I am not after her passion. When I was alive, I was corrupted by it but now I only seek for redemption of my addiction.
I wink with an evil smile and walk towards my car. She follows like I was an evil mother hen.
The ride back nothing is said by me. She talks at me and tells me the story of some lost romance and keeps on asking me who I am and why I'm not talking. She asks me what's on my mind and I stop and think to myself, "your soul"
We return to the house. The door is open and no one is home. They must have gone out for a minute but I notice there's no car so they must have gone further then I thought.
My hunger wells up in me as I remember home. The endless nightmare of life a thousand years and seeing those who I care about corrupted by the poisonous blood that runs through these veins. Visions of ships, in now New York harbor, docked and exporting hundreds a day to an alleyway where the stench is so strong not even a gas mask could protect you.
I can remember a small town in Ireland where a foreigner one day came to stay. Her beauty was poles apart from that of any local girl. I was enchanted by her essence and allure and before I knew it, She was in my room on top of the in.
She showed me her shoulder slipping out of the dress she was wearing and at the speed of light, she was hitting me with her body and kissing me with such force that reality its self disappeared. It was as if I was in another dimension and even my surroundings changed as she sunk her teeth into my neck. I felt the gentle tug and sharp pain of two syringes deep within my jugular vein. My head went weak and the poison of her saliva entered my neck.
Like a mosquito, she could have kept on drinking till she exploded but suddenly she pulled her teeth off my neck and I fell off of her; watching my illusionary existence melt away like an oil painting with turpentine thrown on it. It was beautiful and morbid and I felt my heart stopping. Love ending, passion dying, fear passing and consciousness its self evanescing. She drew a knife from her bag and I begged her to murder me but she slit her wrist and told me to drink.
I bit her with a hunger I had never felt before. Even if I had not eaten for weeks as my family had, I could not have feasted like I did now.
The door swung open to my house and I stepped inside. No one was home as I had expected and I pulled her close to me. The scent of her hair drove me wild. My teeth began to grow like that of a snake from its gums and I bit down with all my force. She had no desire to scream and pulled me closer. The fire in my soul burned again and I felt fulfilled. I drained her not only of her blood but also of her soul. The fire, the flames, the high. That feeling of the painting melting all over again. Images flashing of a girl sitting alone with her mascara running down her cheek and the wonderful warmth of her soul in my mouth.
The vampyr from the bar smiled and stroked the back of my head as I died. She looked out the window and smiled and said, "the sun is setting my child. Watch."
I watched the sun set for the last time and closed my eyes and felt nothing. We made love for the rest of the night and there were no regrets.
At four AM, we drained the bar and left it with corpses all around.
At one point I had been shot with a musket and yet, the bullet and the wound healed instantly.
As the sun came up, we rode off in a black carriage toward a castle in the West of Ireland. There we made our home before moving from place to place with the hunger of the Vampyr increasing. We had our fill till we moved to America.
It was 1959 and she had crashed into a fight between rival gangs in the Hell's Kitchen area of Manhattan, New York City. She was murdered and I dragged her out of the area before the police showed and found two others murdered.
My first, my hostess, my eternal was dead. The steak in the midst of the gang war was uncommon so I resolved to look for her murderer.
It had been 48 years and I had found this girl who had not aged. I would have to drain her worse than I had any other victim. She reached for her coat as I feared my life and threw her to a corner. Her face had changed. She was Dumpeil; I could taste it in her blood. A half breed who killed its own kind. My emotions still ranked none but I prepared to kill for my hostess.
She held a stake in her foreign hand and prepared to finish me off.
"I have waited for you murderer," she says. "My blood runs cold and hot, and I can see your soul as well as the ones you have taken from me and my country." "My family moved to New York to find you and your whore and it's a shame I couldn't have finished you both off in '59."
I said nothing but smiled at how quickly her mood changed. She was an impeccable liar. "You are weak young one. It is not wise to fight the elder."
"My mother murdered my father because of you. Do you remember her? 1868. The confusion and revolts must have made things easy for you. death was all around at that time and you raped and drained an innocent woman," she said.
"Your bleeding and you strength is low, I would not recommend fighting me now child," I said.
"I will die before you leave this house," she said.
I threw her with the force of Zeus at a wall that broke open and she stood. Once again I was on her with her stake across the room. I drained her till my eyes closed and something strange started to happen.
"You can't take Vampyr blood can you? It is that of your own kind and kills you like an overdose of drugs. You are dying you vapid creature," she said.
"I will not be killed by a pathetic half breed," I said.
"The night is not over yet subhuman, I have not had my fill of you, just yet," She said.
Her fangs sank into my neck and I shrieked as I was raped by this creature who I was about to murder.
We watched the moon outside and drained the tenement at 4:00 AM. From here, there was only destiny.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
A New Hope
"To be a great writer, one must wake up every morning and write. There's no other way"
I sat in the alleyway of a busy street, just able to look out and view the mayhem. I had a few minutes yet but the time before midnight always seemed to last an eternity. Clutching the cold piece of metal in my pocket, I remembered a time when I had a wife and kids and a life where things were happy. Now, it seemed, there was nothing but the day in day out.
The pay was good from the job but it came upon every man in it like a disease. After the first one, you felt a little rush but it was always about taking on more business so I could feel the same way I did from that first hit.
An addiction always seems to work that way, you know? With Heroin addicts, it's "I just need one more hit," then somebody finds them face down in a puddle of their own vomit. Drugs are disgusting. The quality of that life is never as high as I can get. Sex is an addiction too and sex addicts are also known to rave about the "hit" but sex is also a dirty thing where you can get disease and physical withdrawal. What I do...
He came around the corner looking back and moving fast. He knew what he was doing was dangerous and that somebody would want to get this "stuff" away from him. The men he deals with peddle it to kids. He's South American in origin and this stuff is probably gold to his home country but out here on the streets a lot of other people want to get to it first. This is the way in hell, the devil eats the demons and no one ever dies, they simply evanesce.
"it's a busy street, no one's going to touch me here," he thought. "I'm too well connected, no one would dare touch a made man," he thinks. "Wow! Look at that girl, she makes my wife look old and ugly. I'll come back around to take her to my room and..."
He's pulled into an alleyway next to a busy street. The silencer spits on him with disgust. An empty bottle of whiskey is shoved in his right hand and a sticky needle into his left arm.
The bullet hole is in such a place that the man will not be discovered for hours, but people will pass by and look. People will say nothing as they pass by. A few of them might look but it will be the same as passing by a bum on the streets.
When a man dies of murder, everybody wants to know but when he does himself in, it's a whole other story. Truth is, in a city this large, who the hell cares about death without an adventure? People die every day from poverty or drug addiction. Some of them do it in the most public setting available but you ask yourself, "did I know him?" Most of the time those who didn't will say, "I'm glad it wasn't me," and walk on.
I'm a murderer. I kill people for money. My wife died from a drug overdose and my kids were killed by her next of kin for the debts she didn't pay. I killed him and have been doing hits for her family ever since. She died of her addictions. Now I get to see others die of theirs. Fear not my sheep, for the reaper brings you sweet death.
I sat in the alleyway of a busy street, just able to look out and view the mayhem. I had a few minutes yet but the time before midnight always seemed to last an eternity. Clutching the cold piece of metal in my pocket, I remembered a time when I had a wife and kids and a life where things were happy. Now, it seemed, there was nothing but the day in day out.
The pay was good from the job but it came upon every man in it like a disease. After the first one, you felt a little rush but it was always about taking on more business so I could feel the same way I did from that first hit.
An addiction always seems to work that way, you know? With Heroin addicts, it's "I just need one more hit," then somebody finds them face down in a puddle of their own vomit. Drugs are disgusting. The quality of that life is never as high as I can get. Sex is an addiction too and sex addicts are also known to rave about the "hit" but sex is also a dirty thing where you can get disease and physical withdrawal. What I do...
He came around the corner looking back and moving fast. He knew what he was doing was dangerous and that somebody would want to get this "stuff" away from him. The men he deals with peddle it to kids. He's South American in origin and this stuff is probably gold to his home country but out here on the streets a lot of other people want to get to it first. This is the way in hell, the devil eats the demons and no one ever dies, they simply evanesce.
"it's a busy street, no one's going to touch me here," he thought. "I'm too well connected, no one would dare touch a made man," he thinks. "Wow! Look at that girl, she makes my wife look old and ugly. I'll come back around to take her to my room and..."
He's pulled into an alleyway next to a busy street. The silencer spits on him with disgust. An empty bottle of whiskey is shoved in his right hand and a sticky needle into his left arm.
The bullet hole is in such a place that the man will not be discovered for hours, but people will pass by and look. People will say nothing as they pass by. A few of them might look but it will be the same as passing by a bum on the streets.
When a man dies of murder, everybody wants to know but when he does himself in, it's a whole other story. Truth is, in a city this large, who the hell cares about death without an adventure? People die every day from poverty or drug addiction. Some of them do it in the most public setting available but you ask yourself, "did I know him?" Most of the time those who didn't will say, "I'm glad it wasn't me," and walk on.
I'm a murderer. I kill people for money. My wife died from a drug overdose and my kids were killed by her next of kin for the debts she didn't pay. I killed him and have been doing hits for her family ever since. She died of her addictions. Now I get to see others die of theirs. Fear not my sheep, for the reaper brings you sweet death.
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