Several years ago, in my college days, or at least my 4 year college days, I used to live across town from my friend Allen Murphy. Often times, I'd stay late into the night and into the witching hour of 3:00 AM - 4:00 AM.
This may need some explanation: Murphy and I called this the witching hour because the town literally quiets and dies at this time. The people, the police and even little scampering animals, disappear from the streets and all you can hear is the wispy noise of a November wind and the deafening roar of a street lamp or 2 lining the streets.
It was on one of these nights that I happened to have stayed past this golden hour at Murphy's and was facing the decision to walk home through the town or stay at his house and get more intoxicated off various substances.
In the end, I decided to walk home because I was already in an altered state of consciousness from my abuses earlier and the guttural knife like feeling came in my gut for sex; my, then girlfriend, happened to be across town.
On my way back, I had made it past most of the darkened streets and onto one of the main roads that was empty when I stopped suddenly to notice Goosebumps developing on my skin, which was awkward granted that I thought I was too drunk to be scared.
The football field bleachers rose high above me on the other side of a large brick wall. It reminded me of the skyscrapers in Chelsea New York City on a similar night. The wind blew through the football field wall, and the buildings across from it, which included a Sub shop, a veterinarian’s office, and a tall bank building on the corner. I believe it was a Summit bank.
I could feel the silence besides the gentle wind and the deafening roar of electricity from the only street lamp on this street.
I looked down the road and denied the vision I had: A tuft of hair stuck out from behind a hydrangea bush and I heard weeping on the other side of it.
"Hey!" I called out.
There was no answer.
"Helooo! Are you alright?" I said.
In my altered state of mind, I hadn't noticed that this hair was more than back hair of a hairy person and was hit by a large grey mass that had teeth and fearsome canine eyes but moved so quickly, it was an indistinct blur of fur.
I struggled with the night monster for 20 minutes before I noticed a car's headlights coming down the street.
My distraction gave the thing a window to bite me hard on the arm as I threw it off but before the car was even to the point where I had fallen, the creature was gone.
My clothes were slightly ruffled but no worse than if I had gotten caught on the wire fence that stemmed off the large brick walled bleachers and the car drove by slowly enough that I could see the comfortable people in it.
They laughed at me through dirty smoke stained windows with an obvious drunk going as well and then disappeared up the street as well.
I remember noticing very quickly that my drunk and intoxicated state had left me very suddenly and the bite mark had also healed instantaneously, leaving no scar but all my wounds before the creature bit me seemed to remain.
I made it home that night quicker than usual and noticed my senses had gotten more acute in the darkness as well.
It wouldn't be until the next full moon till I realized the significance of it all, but that's a story for those who wish to know it. This was the beginning.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
RETRIBUTION
The house was dark and the porche that sat in the driveway watched me with muted eyes. Oh how it would talk if there were a key in the ignition. The amount of security on the house had already been taken care of by our friends at the power company so the door came open with a small, "pick, screw, turn."
As i went into his room, i saw his bulbous stomach rising and falling with the no doubt full meal many of our own had never seen. I hadn't made a noise that he noticed.
This was good.
In the shadowy corner of the room i snapped together the poison tipped spear. Looking at him, my rage built and i rammed the tip of it down through his liver, pinning him to the bed.
Awake now and coughing up blood, he managed to gurgle out the words, "who?" and "why?" I waited for the poison to circulate and then i spoke up, "we are the legion of workers that work for your company for less than equitable wages. You have done nothing but lower starting pay over the last year and while we starve, you have a lovely home that we worked for. You have forgotten The most basic tennant of being human: sharing. I am the devil in you. We are your jury. We have judged you unworthy of life and come to drag you back to hell."
As the old man died, relief came in my soul because justice was finally served and I was ok that it had come cold.
As i went into his room, i saw his bulbous stomach rising and falling with the no doubt full meal many of our own had never seen. I hadn't made a noise that he noticed.
This was good.
In the shadowy corner of the room i snapped together the poison tipped spear. Looking at him, my rage built and i rammed the tip of it down through his liver, pinning him to the bed.
Awake now and coughing up blood, he managed to gurgle out the words, "who?" and "why?" I waited for the poison to circulate and then i spoke up, "we are the legion of workers that work for your company for less than equitable wages. You have done nothing but lower starting pay over the last year and while we starve, you have a lovely home that we worked for. You have forgotten The most basic tennant of being human: sharing. I am the devil in you. We are your jury. We have judged you unworthy of life and come to drag you back to hell."
As the old man died, relief came in my soul because justice was finally served and I was ok that it had come cold.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Pissing wall
It was a cold day in tokyo which was rare for summer time. The smell of stale urine reaked from the near by bathroom of ropongi and a happy drunk lay by it in pride.
I lit a cigarette and evaluated the situation. The bar was ten blocks away and in that ten blocks, there hadn't been a single suitable place to empty my kidneys. As the world started to go sideways and dark, i remembered ruffeeing myself before the sex i'd just had in an alleyway. I was an addict and sex was sex as long as you could block out the memory of what she looked like.
Times were getting desperate and i was about to piss myself if i didn't find a pot soon. I ran towards the wall, because that few steps towards the golden porceline throne seemed like an eternity, and unzipped.
As i began to feel the relief at last, i heard a japanese voice say, "what the fuck, you asshole?" and realized i had pissed into his face.
"Hope you enjoyed the shower," I said and left the pissing wall for good.
I lit a cigarette and evaluated the situation. The bar was ten blocks away and in that ten blocks, there hadn't been a single suitable place to empty my kidneys. As the world started to go sideways and dark, i remembered ruffeeing myself before the sex i'd just had in an alleyway. I was an addict and sex was sex as long as you could block out the memory of what she looked like.
Times were getting desperate and i was about to piss myself if i didn't find a pot soon. I ran towards the wall, because that few steps towards the golden porceline throne seemed like an eternity, and unzipped.
As i began to feel the relief at last, i heard a japanese voice say, "what the fuck, you asshole?" and realized i had pissed into his face.
"Hope you enjoyed the shower," I said and left the pissing wall for good.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Hunt
The jungle of my dreams was rancid and eternal.
From somewhere in the distance I could hear howler monkeys; Not because there were any in my jungle but because that's the way jungles were percieved in my mind.
I crept through tall grass and overhanging trees meeting no life besides the plants and the muck that sucked my feet deeper into the false reality.
Without warning, a twig snapped and I saw the tiger with one eye yellow and one eye blue.
She looked at me and i looked back recognizing these eyes like an old friend.
Although i was hidden in a bush, when she looked at me, the whole world turned to black, except for 2 illuminated forms, as we were alone and together at the same time.
"I love you," i said, realizing who she was, and i strung my bow.
From somewhere in the distance I could hear howler monkeys; Not because there were any in my jungle but because that's the way jungles were percieved in my mind.
I crept through tall grass and overhanging trees meeting no life besides the plants and the muck that sucked my feet deeper into the false reality.
Without warning, a twig snapped and I saw the tiger with one eye yellow and one eye blue.
She looked at me and i looked back recognizing these eyes like an old friend.
Although i was hidden in a bush, when she looked at me, the whole world turned to black, except for 2 illuminated forms, as we were alone and together at the same time.
"I love you," i said, realizing who she was, and i strung my bow.
Achoo!
"a... Aaa..."
The walls began to shake and a tall, gaunt man began to sniffle at the end of one of the few wings of the Dharma Home for The Telekinetically Challenged.
The green soot covered wall paper began to peel and fly around the room. A vicious tornado began to form and object seemed to move violently around and around of their own free will.
"AAA..."
He looked over at the desk, sniffled and screamed, "i wish this room damn room wasn't so damn dusty" through a large metal door and sniffles in between.
"AAAAAAA..."
The man jerked his head down as if trying to keep himself from sneezing and a desk crushed into the concrete floor as pieces of wood leaped into the air and joined the swirling mess of wall paper and a few lamps; all of the mess, in pieces, and still violently circling, in the air.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."
The moment before it exploded, the ward was exceptionally quiet, then for the average person the last thing that they might have heard was "CHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
From a distance, he swore he could hear the other patients (those who had learned to control their innate telekinetic minds, no doubt) floating gently back to the hospital as the hospital warden sat in front of him, at a desk, writing, and surrounded by a few telekinetic nurses blocking debris.
He looked up for a moment and then back down.
"Gesundheit... again... Mr. pepper," he said, "Here are your transfer papers. I hope you have enjoyed your stay, I cannot say the same for myself or my thrice destroyed hospital."
The walls began to shake and a tall, gaunt man began to sniffle at the end of one of the few wings of the Dharma Home for The Telekinetically Challenged.
The green soot covered wall paper began to peel and fly around the room. A vicious tornado began to form and object seemed to move violently around and around of their own free will.
"AAA..."
He looked over at the desk, sniffled and screamed, "i wish this room damn room wasn't so damn dusty" through a large metal door and sniffles in between.
"AAAAAAA..."
The man jerked his head down as if trying to keep himself from sneezing and a desk crushed into the concrete floor as pieces of wood leaped into the air and joined the swirling mess of wall paper and a few lamps; all of the mess, in pieces, and still violently circling, in the air.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."
The moment before it exploded, the ward was exceptionally quiet, then for the average person the last thing that they might have heard was "CHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
From a distance, he swore he could hear the other patients (those who had learned to control their innate telekinetic minds, no doubt) floating gently back to the hospital as the hospital warden sat in front of him, at a desk, writing, and surrounded by a few telekinetic nurses blocking debris.
He looked up for a moment and then back down.
"Gesundheit... again... Mr. pepper," he said, "Here are your transfer papers. I hope you have enjoyed your stay, I cannot say the same for myself or my thrice destroyed hospital."
It's a marvelous night for a moon dance
The breeze blew in from the great atlantic and the boardwalk was dead like an apocalyptic street.
He heard, from a distance, its coming.
When it got there, he was hardly surprised.
"You do have to cause a show, don't you fvamilla?" He said.
"And what host would bring her syre to an empty beach without at least a brief display of the talents he bestowed?" she said.
"You filthy bitch," He replied obstinately.
The moon glowed full behind the clouds and the stars also hid behind the gaseous giants.
"I'm helpless. The moon isn't out. Let's just get this over with, shall we?" he said.
"You? Powerless? Why you're only at half power you dirty dirty beast! Now give me what i want!"
She lunged at him, throwing him off the boardwalk and into the sand, their bodies becoming a ball of sand and then, of fur and sand; their ragged clothes becoming a tattered mess. When finally, two naked human-looking creatures walked through the surf, he said, "i really hate having sex."
"you're probably the only one," she said.
"not of our kind," He objected coyly.
"Have you met others?" she teased.
"No but..."
Just then, a police officer, on late night patrol (no doubt), spotted the couple. Being that they were naked, on the beach after hours, and alone; this policeman must have thought to himself he would be hailed a hero for the indecency he was about to halt in its evil tracks.
"As much as i hate this late night rousing, it does make me terribly hungry, You?" He smiled.
"I could eat," she laughed.
In a motion to quick for the human eye, and resembling a trail of black smoke all three disappeared.
The breeze blew in from the great atlantic and the boardwalk was dead like an apocalyptic street.
He heard, from a distance, its coming.
When it got there, he was hardly surprised.
"You do have to cause a show, don't you fvamilla?" He said.
"And what host would bring her syre to an empty beach without at least a brief display of the talents he bestowed?" she said.
"You filthy bitch," He replied obstinately.
The moon glowed full behind the clouds and the stars also hid behind the gaseous giants.
"I'm helpless. The moon isn't out. Let's just get this over with, shall we?" he said.
"You? Powerless? Why you're only at half power you dirty dirty beast! Now give me what i want!"
She lunged at him, throwing him off the boardwalk and into the sand, their bodies becoming a ball of sand and then, of fur and sand; their ragged clothes becoming a tattered mess. When finally, two naked human-looking creatures walked through the surf, he said, "i really hate having sex."
"you're probably the only one," she said.
"not of our kind," He objected coyly.
"Have you met others?" she teased.
"No but..."
Just then, a police officer, on late night patrol (no doubt), spotted the couple. Being that they were naked, on the beach after hours, and alone; this policeman must have thought to himself he would be hailed a hero for the indecency he was about to halt in its evil tracks.
"As much as i hate this late night rousing, it does make me terribly hungry, You?" He smiled.
"I could eat," she laughed.
In a motion to quick for the human eye, and resembling a trail of black smoke all three disappeared.
The breeze blew in from the great atlantic and the boardwalk was dead like an apocalyptic street.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Ages Hense
The rain came down in sheets outside my window. What a cliche line but it was true. The way it moved back and forth in stagnant lines reminded me of the newspaper reels from the 30's and 40's.
This isn't the 30's and 40's anymore though.
This isn't even the same century.
God, how long have I been alive?
A human life seems so frail without technology and I've watched so many pass because they didn't know about the one simple advancement only I possess. I must have been through at least five or six identities so far just trying to protect it.
In any case, you'd have no idea about that. Even now, in 2145... yes... that's it; I've been alive for two hundred and sixteen years.
Seeing how you haven't left the room yet, do you have time for a story? Of course you do, I just answered my own question, didn't I?
Well, it seems that the absence of the process for the past 20 years has made my mind a little weak. Now I shall try my best, but I feel as though this may be my last transcript to you, so listen closely and as you write, remember that no one but you can know this story; I have seen what it does to people and you don't want to be in that world:
The year I was born was nineteen hundred and twenty nine. The stock market had just crashed on the day my mother gave birth to me. My father was protected only because he had been doing projects in our basement for foreign governments and getting the pay put into those same foreign banks. We were United States citizens for the purpose of a good home in the land of opportunity but aside from our middle class facade in a country that had just upped its population of poor people, we were quite average.
My father was a genetic engineer before people had any idea what that meant.
Throughout the 30's and 40's my parents moved around a lot. Much of the reason was projects that he was working on for the United States government, and then selling to the Swiss, or other countries that took the vow of neutrality in any war, on the side.
His work focused mainly on youth and how to stay young, forever. He did not see any problem with this because his work was focused around regenerating body parts and tissues.
As a side note: if my father could see me now, he'd be very disappointed.
He always told me, "Son, all human beings strive for eternal youth, and it is ok to die feeling and looking young but the key to playing god is the brain. This is the one organ we do not even research to be regenerated. It is not possible and therefore no one is god, but god alone."
In 1935, my father moved with my mother and me to Chicago. It seemed as though people had been making threats on hurting my mother and or me if he didn't begin research on a recipe for the regeneration of the brain.
He told no one where he was going, not even my mother or me; One day, we just left.
When we got to Chicago, that was where the basement research got elevated. Government officials were contacted and he told them he would do no more research on regeneration, so being a scientist, mathematician, physicist, biologist and every other form of researcher you could think of, they started him working on a project called Manhattan in Chicago; isn't that a riot?
I wouldn't know it until later but one of the stipulations of him working on this new project was that he be allowed privacy and absolute security. Surveillance back then wasn't what it is now, I assure you of that and you'd know if there was a flower delivery service in front of your house for 5 days straight.
The bathroom was to the left of the kitchen and unless you knew the tile to remove, it was no more or less: an ordinary bathroom. The tiles on the wall were blue and they created a solid strip around the center of the walls, above that, the walls were a teal color and below that were white panels. Anyone going in there would be surprised by it's loveliness and cleanliness right down to its comfortable, cushion fitted, porcelain throne.
Within its walls, however, was the most state of the art laberatory ever made. My father built it himself and he told me that we would never move because if we did, we'd have to blow up the house to conceal his research.
Evidently, he wasn't lying.
It was 1939-1945 that I worked for the Chicago Tribune and listened to the newspaper reels churning out new news each morning. I only got to listen for a few hours before they opened up the doors and sent me off with a fresh bundle but the sound was so intoxicating it almost put me to sleep before the day even began.
On August 6th, 1945, we all found out about the First atomic bomb being released on the island of Japan. 10 days later, dad moved us to Venice Beach California, in the middle of the night, and blew up our house in Chicago. I read about it in the paper a few days after we arrived. The only thing was, it said all inhabitants had been killed.
I felt very much alive.
My father wasn't like other men. Many of my friends got to go for a drink when they turned 18 but instead, I got a far better gift: my father brought me down to his laboratory. We began to do projects together and I watched my father regenerate body parts of his so he'd look younger, even though his brain was 50 years old by 1950.
It infuriated me in secret because I could tell he was getting old even though his body looked almost as young as mine did. My mother did as well and because of his technology they were healthy and fit in every area except the brain, which was, for all intensive purposes, older.
In 1979, I reached my half a century mark. My father was 79 and though his body looked young, he must have seemed like the most cranky, forgetful, and almost naiive young man to those who didn't know that he had been giving himself youth treatments since he was actually a young man. I had better things to do with my time and in June of that year, I perfected it.
I came running into the office where my dad worked and began to tell him about my perfection of the brain rejouvination as he slept. I appologized numerous times for not telling him that I had been working on this research for a long time but he gave no response.
The coroners had put the cause of death as aneurysm in their report. The old-young man had simply thought too much and made his brain bleed. My mother died in 1980 of the same thing. This wasn't going to happen to me.
I began treatments on my brain rejuvenation process immediately and I had the quickness of thought and the looks of a 29 year old. Year after year I fixed my brain until I have gathered the knowledge of two centuries.
I never thought to have kids until I met your mother and age wasn't even the thing that took her. Some things in this world, are abrupt and simultaneous and god gets more vicious the more years you steal from him. You can check all the drawers in my desk, you won't find the recipe. I've destroyed the lab and all the documents were in that lab. I have lived young for too many years and I find I would have been happier dying young as well.
In my older, young age, I have to say it's almost a blessing to be getting old. Life gets boring after a while you know.
This isn't the 30's and 40's anymore though.
This isn't even the same century.
God, how long have I been alive?
A human life seems so frail without technology and I've watched so many pass because they didn't know about the one simple advancement only I possess. I must have been through at least five or six identities so far just trying to protect it.
In any case, you'd have no idea about that. Even now, in 2145... yes... that's it; I've been alive for two hundred and sixteen years.
Seeing how you haven't left the room yet, do you have time for a story? Of course you do, I just answered my own question, didn't I?
Well, it seems that the absence of the process for the past 20 years has made my mind a little weak. Now I shall try my best, but I feel as though this may be my last transcript to you, so listen closely and as you write, remember that no one but you can know this story; I have seen what it does to people and you don't want to be in that world:
The year I was born was nineteen hundred and twenty nine. The stock market had just crashed on the day my mother gave birth to me. My father was protected only because he had been doing projects in our basement for foreign governments and getting the pay put into those same foreign banks. We were United States citizens for the purpose of a good home in the land of opportunity but aside from our middle class facade in a country that had just upped its population of poor people, we were quite average.
My father was a genetic engineer before people had any idea what that meant.
Throughout the 30's and 40's my parents moved around a lot. Much of the reason was projects that he was working on for the United States government, and then selling to the Swiss, or other countries that took the vow of neutrality in any war, on the side.
His work focused mainly on youth and how to stay young, forever. He did not see any problem with this because his work was focused around regenerating body parts and tissues.
As a side note: if my father could see me now, he'd be very disappointed.
He always told me, "Son, all human beings strive for eternal youth, and it is ok to die feeling and looking young but the key to playing god is the brain. This is the one organ we do not even research to be regenerated. It is not possible and therefore no one is god, but god alone."
In 1935, my father moved with my mother and me to Chicago. It seemed as though people had been making threats on hurting my mother and or me if he didn't begin research on a recipe for the regeneration of the brain.
He told no one where he was going, not even my mother or me; One day, we just left.
When we got to Chicago, that was where the basement research got elevated. Government officials were contacted and he told them he would do no more research on regeneration, so being a scientist, mathematician, physicist, biologist and every other form of researcher you could think of, they started him working on a project called Manhattan in Chicago; isn't that a riot?
I wouldn't know it until later but one of the stipulations of him working on this new project was that he be allowed privacy and absolute security. Surveillance back then wasn't what it is now, I assure you of that and you'd know if there was a flower delivery service in front of your house for 5 days straight.
The bathroom was to the left of the kitchen and unless you knew the tile to remove, it was no more or less: an ordinary bathroom. The tiles on the wall were blue and they created a solid strip around the center of the walls, above that, the walls were a teal color and below that were white panels. Anyone going in there would be surprised by it's loveliness and cleanliness right down to its comfortable, cushion fitted, porcelain throne.
Within its walls, however, was the most state of the art laberatory ever made. My father built it himself and he told me that we would never move because if we did, we'd have to blow up the house to conceal his research.
Evidently, he wasn't lying.
It was 1939-1945 that I worked for the Chicago Tribune and listened to the newspaper reels churning out new news each morning. I only got to listen for a few hours before they opened up the doors and sent me off with a fresh bundle but the sound was so intoxicating it almost put me to sleep before the day even began.
On August 6th, 1945, we all found out about the First atomic bomb being released on the island of Japan. 10 days later, dad moved us to Venice Beach California, in the middle of the night, and blew up our house in Chicago. I read about it in the paper a few days after we arrived. The only thing was, it said all inhabitants had been killed.
I felt very much alive.
My father wasn't like other men. Many of my friends got to go for a drink when they turned 18 but instead, I got a far better gift: my father brought me down to his laboratory. We began to do projects together and I watched my father regenerate body parts of his so he'd look younger, even though his brain was 50 years old by 1950.
It infuriated me in secret because I could tell he was getting old even though his body looked almost as young as mine did. My mother did as well and because of his technology they were healthy and fit in every area except the brain, which was, for all intensive purposes, older.
In 1979, I reached my half a century mark. My father was 79 and though his body looked young, he must have seemed like the most cranky, forgetful, and almost naiive young man to those who didn't know that he had been giving himself youth treatments since he was actually a young man. I had better things to do with my time and in June of that year, I perfected it.
I came running into the office where my dad worked and began to tell him about my perfection of the brain rejouvination as he slept. I appologized numerous times for not telling him that I had been working on this research for a long time but he gave no response.
The coroners had put the cause of death as aneurysm in their report. The old-young man had simply thought too much and made his brain bleed. My mother died in 1980 of the same thing. This wasn't going to happen to me.
I began treatments on my brain rejuvenation process immediately and I had the quickness of thought and the looks of a 29 year old. Year after year I fixed my brain until I have gathered the knowledge of two centuries.
I never thought to have kids until I met your mother and age wasn't even the thing that took her. Some things in this world, are abrupt and simultaneous and god gets more vicious the more years you steal from him. You can check all the drawers in my desk, you won't find the recipe. I've destroyed the lab and all the documents were in that lab. I have lived young for too many years and I find I would have been happier dying young as well.
In my older, young age, I have to say it's almost a blessing to be getting old. Life gets boring after a while you know.
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