Tuesday, December 28, 2010

January quote

"Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly."
-Neil Gaiman

Monday, September 27, 2010

October Quote

So that notable deeds should not perish with time, and be lost from the memory of future generations, I, seeing these many ills, and the whole world encompassed by evil, waiting among the dead for death to come, have committed to writing what I have truly heard and examined; and so that the writing does not perish with the writer, or the work fail with the workman, I leave parchment for continuing the work, in case anyone should still be alive in the future and any son of Adam can escape and continue the work thus begun.
[the narrative ends before continuing, etched in another hand]
Here, it seems, the author died...
-John Clyn, 1349

Monday, August 30, 2010

September Quote

"For them, the only honorable death is one that leaves a crater." -Bloodfire Dwarf

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Michelle Obama vs Necromancer Nixon

"First lady, I'm sorry I pimp slapped you into that china cabinet, but I had to be sure you weren't one of them." The man was apologetic

Michelle Obama flicked the safety back on the glock she had pointed at the man's head, silently vowing that if this one turned too she would not hesitate to shoot him in the face. "We have to get out of here - I need to stop Nixon."

"Nixon? What? He's dead. Like of the non-living just plain dead variety."

"That's what we thought too. It was a trick, it was all just another of his tricks. He faked his death. Or found a way to come back." If anyone could figure out a way to cheat death and return to the world of the living with an army of the undead at his command, it was former President Richard Milhous Nixon.

"Wait - where's your husband?"

There was an uneasy silence that filled the room. No real need to say what had happened. There were no words of solace to be found. "Can you fire a gun?"

"I know how."

"Good." The First Lady replied, tossing him her spare gun. She was loathe the relinquish it. A brief moment of sadness as she realized she couldn't remember the name of the secret service agent she'd taken it from, right before beheading him, setting fire to his body and sowing the corpse with salt. It didn't matter now. So many old friends gone. Nothing was like it was. Steeling herself to the task at hand, she remembered where she was and what needed to be done. "Because first we need to stop Vampire Biden from launching the nuclear weapons."

Before he could even decide on the proper response for that she chambered a round in pistol. "It's time for us to go." She added.

There was no response to be made. He followed. The only thing that mattered now was putting a stake through the heart of Vampire Joe Biden.

Truly, he could not think of anything he'd rather be doing.

Monday, July 26, 2010

August Quote

“First Lady, I’m sorry I pimp slapped you into that china cabinet.”

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Twisting the Hedgehog

"So, welcome to my humble proposal. As you know, I like video games, and don't we all?

Ahem. Anyway, I know if anyone can pull this off, it's going to be you. You know how to use the computer right? Video games are made on computers, aren't they? Then it's settled!

See, I have this great idea - this GREAT idea - it's going to blow your lid, and you're going to wonder why it hasn't been done before; Seriously. You see, when I play some games, I get to having myself a few games that hold a place in my heart. You might even say they are my favourite games, you might. Anyway, I have an awesome, totally original idea for a game I know you're gonna love. Seriously.

So, it starts like this. There's this princess right? But she's also a robot, a robot that was once an animal. But she wears this pink dress and is never in castles you look. Hell, she's never in castles at all, because some big crime syndicate stole her away from you. You - whom I so eagerly divulge, being the hero of this story. So anyway, these guys named Bimmy and Jimmy;

What? Billy and Jimmy? Well, no, I'm pretty sure its Bimmy and Jimmy. Why would I lie?

So, uh, well... crap. Anyway, I can't remember what the deal with them was, but I know they ended up dead because of Dracula. Oh, and you don't have to worry about Dracula in this game because someone already whipped him to death. I know - Kinky, right? Well, that was in the games back story, which we will make into a game later. I know, genius, right? Aha!

Okay. So, that leaves us with you, the hero. You're a chief of some sorts. Exceptional chief? Unparalleled chief? Anyway, your name doesn't matter, cause you have this awesome red beret and a blue spiky spine and I think you can also play the guitar. Wait, scratch that, you DO play the guitar. This is my idea, of course I know what's going on!
Also, you have a base in the woods, but its not really the woods. It's actually a secret to everyone, and there's a woman living there. A woman whom happens to be wearing a - get this - a suit made from bird people! Or, is it by bird people? Whatever, she's hot and will be the main sell point of this game. We'll put her on the cover.
Where was I? Oh! I forgot the most important part! You (as the hero, dummy!) are actually from outer space. A gorilla alien with guerrilla combat skills.

Oh, and the story? I'll tell you the hero's motivation and turmoil right now. I'll just lay it on the table and that will be that.

So, an old monkey tells you that the princess (Remember her? Yeah!) is in distress, but that he just mentions that to you because he has a newspaper and doesn't give two licks if you save her or not. He just wants you to find some damn bananas or something, it doesn't matter. Anyway, Incredible Chief (You! Referring to you in the game) is more interested in doing exactly the opposite of what is asked of him, which is basically to start a wild-western war. Don't worry about the details, I did a lot of research, so I know what I'm talking about.
But anyway, it is incidental that his quest brings him to try to rescue this princess. In the end, he'll accidentally kill her, shortly forget why he was doing anything at all that day (aside from sleeping in) and quickly return home to his bird-killing girlfriend (which he actually just wishes was his girlfriend.)

And we will make millions. So, when can you get started?"

The pair of orderlies reeled their heads away from the doors window.

"There you have it. He just keeps repeating that same idea every single night. It just keeps getting more twisted the more he does it.
Honestly though, I liked it better when the heroes were the Battletoads. I fucking loved Battletoads."

Monday, June 28, 2010

July Quote

July Quote! WOO!!!

Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.

Mark Twain

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Support Group

“Hello, my name is Hastur, and I am an addict.”

Every one in the circle chants in unison “Hello Hastur.”

It was all the grim masked speaker in the yellow coat could do not to smile, not that this would matter.

“It has been 28 days since last I lead the dance in dark revels in the name of horrors from beyond the stars and understanding. 28 long days...”

There is a murmuring of faceless support from the group; they all know what its like to go without your crutch, it’s hard.

“It’s not like I really miss it, it just that it feels so right. It’s like all that lives and souls on the earth are just a transitory offence to the true masters of the world and that all our great works are but quicksilver and dross before even their least servants and slaves.”

The organiser steps forward; calm and assured, his name is Jeff and he has a degree in psychology. He believes this make his qualified to help people with their problems. He has not yet learned some problems are bigger then what goes on in peoples’ heads. “It is okay Hastur” and again the figure in yellow has to suppress a grin, not that it would matter, “these feelings are natural for someone in your situation. You’ve been though a very rough time but it’s ok, you are with us now, and we understand”.

Jeff doesn’t really understand, he has never danced naked in the gibbous moonlight feeling the unthinkable power of the cosmos ripping though him showing him the grand majesty of his insignificance before the throne of gods and demons that hold sway over all that is, his only addition is to television, situational comedies no less. But he is just trying to help so we cannot hold this lie against him, much. The crack addict has a pretty good idea what the one in yellow is feeling though.

The figure in yellow takes in a quick breath and gently sobs “It’s just... the moon in nearly full tonight and it’s the solstice and there are all these THINGS going on and it so hard to tell what matters anymore and if we could just, you now, go back once more it would be like I’d never have to do it again, like no one would have to do anything again cause it would never matter again.”

The required moment passes while the figure in yellow collects himself. Glancing about, head shaking they turn to leave “I don’t belong here, I’m just trying to get it started again.” And they begin to stalk out.

Jeff pipes up, his voice nasal and vaguely annoying “It ok Hastur you can stay, we welcome you, right everyone?”

On cue and nearly rehearsed everyone in the circle holds hands smiling, some sincerely, others not, “You are welcome here Hastur, you can stay here Hastur, come back Hastur.”

There is a clatter as a mask hits the ground and a visage behind it smiles, though none can tell. “Thank you everyone for your support, but I think these meetings are part of the problem.”

That night there is screaming and sky clad dancing under the gibbous moon to the true masters of the world and now Jeff really does understand what the figure in yellow is going though, he has seen the grand majesty of his insignificance before the throne of gods and demons that hold sway over all that is, though it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing will matter ever again.

Monday, June 14, 2010

A Waiting Time

The “Now serving” signs number went up another lonely digit.

Everyone looks up, more out of habit now then any real belief it was their number that was being called, more out of something to do then habit but mostly out of hope and dread. Funny how those always went together.

An older woman stood out of the throng this time, maybe in her mid 50’s, stern and crow faced and scarred with a gaze that flickered over the crowd with contempt.

You haven’t been called. You are not worthy. Her eye conveyed it all.

She came to the admissions desk and I didn’t even bother to look up. I just sat reading my files and waited, savouring it.

She was trying so hard to glare the top off of my head it was all I could do not to laugh.

An eternity passes before she clears her throat to draw my notice. She gets a bare flicker of notice and I push the tissues closer to her. I can feel the gaze darken and she speaks, her voice sharp and grated and far too loud, a voice used to being listened to and obeyed. I suppressed another small smile and turned a page while she spoke.

“Do you know who I am young man? You cannot treat me this way! Men died at my hands and I drank their blood and danced under the full moon in reverence of the dark one and I brought hundreds more to the faith to perform the rites and darken the land and I will not wait any longer! I am expected and I demand my audience!”

I allow the echo of her words to fade from the vast waiting room and make a show of finishing reading the blank form I’m holding. I allow yet a few moments more to lend a texture to the silence while not even keeping up the pretence of being occupied and to allow the random noises of those still waiting to begin to drown out my soft reply. “Please wait for your number to be called ma’am.” I slowly reach for the small microphone and click it on “Now calling...”

She slams her fist down on my desk, “ME! You are calling me!” She flails the strip of paper under my nose where she thinks bound to see it.

My eyes are closed but I can see it none the less.

“Ah yes ma’am, it is indeed your turn. Name?”

“Hergas of Babylon, demon summoner”

I review my notes “Hmm, Northern or Southern Babylon?”

Her rage claims her voice while she shrieks “There is no one you could mistake me for! I am here to speak with the Destroyer and claim my due. My slaughter was monstrous and in his name. I killed and defiled holy works for power. Babies were broiled at my command and served to their still weeping parents! I am Hergas the Dark Queen of Babylon and I demand my right!”

I review my notes never glancing in her direction. “One baby.”

“What!” she screams.

“That’s what is says here, one baby broiled, it was crib death and there was a famine. A lamentable situation but...”

“And the murders and dark rituals, the corruption and the dark magics? Do they mean nothing?”

“Well yes they do mean something for there is intent, that why you have been waiting. But you were never a witch, the locusts were not your summoning, tragedy happens. The curses? Some women are barren, some men break their arms, some children get sick and die. None of this was your power, just your wish.”

Her voice changes becoming supplicant and beginning just to crack, to beg “And the men I killed? I killed and drank their blood?”

I shake my head sadly, “Again regrettable, but the trauma has coloured your vision. You killed them yes but they were brigands and thieves, you lived in a bad part of the city and they came to you with ill intent in their hearts. That you killed them hardly marks strongly against your soul. It mostly marks your foresight. As for the blood drinking... we are chalking that up to post traumatic stress syndrome and mild starvation.”

“Then why am I here at all! I’ve spoken with many here, killers, murders and witches all! Why!” The last half strangled out on desperate half sobs I take pity on her and raise my gaze to meet hers’ and open my eyes.

The light of it almost unmakes her.

“Because child everyone sins, everyone is dark and nasty and small. You have been made to wait full measure and now it is your appointment with” I glance down and she nearly collapses before I pin her back up with my eyes “Marduk. He is very disappointed in you and you are to plead your case.”

The gate behind me opens to paradise as she sees the light issue forth and she weeps not for the beauty or joy of it. But because she sees all of her great evils and deeds are as nothing against the greatness of creation.

I reach out and touch her shoulder now and she flinches (they all do) as she sees me as I am and the light of it transfixes and transforms her and she passes the gates of paradise. No longer a dread monster of ancient times, now just a humbled woman who lived in hard times who could have lived better, going to plead her case.

She walks past and none but her see what comes and I smile.
“By the Gods I love this job.” I think out loud.
And I turn back to the waiting throng, near infinite but slowly getting though whatever they call this waiting time and I let an interval of time pass and turn the counter to the next and bury my face back into my paperwork.
“I get to meet the most interesting characters.”

Monday, May 31, 2010

June Quote

So come right in cause everybody sins
Welcome to the scene of the crime
You want it, believe it, you got it if you need it
The devil is a friend of mine

Motley Crue - Saints Of Los Angeles

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The Mirror Traveller

"Gather round everyone!" The Professor said with a big smile. His technicians obediently dropped what they were working on and shambled over to where he was standing. The professor was in front of a large machine which he had crudely covered with an old gray sheet.

"Now I know that most of you have been working on this baby in some capacity or another. But now, after four years, we are finished! It is time to unveil" he pulled the sheet away, "my Mirror Traveller!"There was a scattering of applause which slowly gained momentum as the Professor stood in front of his creation.

After a few minutes, he held up his hand for silence. "I know a lot of people doubted that mirror travel would be possible or even wise. Some of those doubters are even in this room. But no matter: we have succeeded! First we sent inanimate objects through, such as rocks. The mirror world gave us the mirror image of the rocks in return. Next we sent test animals through with the same phenomenon. And now, here today, I am about to be the first human to test the Mirror Traveller! Since Alice, I will be the first human through the looking glass!"

His proclamation was met with gasps from the assembled. Everyone was staring at the Professor like he was mad.

"Sir," a young researcher finally piped up, "I would advise against this. While animals have successfully come through, the mirror animals aren't just mirror images of those we've sent through - they also exhibit opposite temperaments. We need much more data before we attempt such a thing!"

"This will be the best way to gather the data we need. Cats and rats cannot communicate, and we've had problems with any electronic equipment which goes through. No, we need someone to observe this world and report back. I have volunteered myself because I do not wish anyone else to come to harm. As many of you know, this has been my dream for many years now."

With that, no one was able to dissuade the Professor. And so the Mirror Traveller was prepped. The Professor stepped forward when all was ready, his senior PhD students trailing after him with a large, plain mirror. They placed the mirror directly in front of the device and stepped back. The Professor adjusted a few dials, then powered up the machine. There was a burst of light as a thin beam of energy contacted with the mirror, but then the mirror's face clouded over, revealing the mirror image of the room they were in. But the people reflected back were not mere reflections; they stared into the real world with hunger in their eyes. The Professor drew closer to the mirror.

One researcher caught a glimpse into the eyes of the professor's reflection. There was an intense gleam there, at odds with the professor's happy features; it was like the reflection was anticipating freedom. "Professor, I don't think-"

But it was too late. The professor stepped through the mirror. First his hand touched the surface, but instead of resting on the glass, it passed through; his entire body continued into the mirror. At the same time, his reflection stepped out of the mirror, seemingly through the Professor. It was immediately apparent that this was not the Professor. Where the Professor was a friendly and open man, the reflection looked guarded and somewhat sinister. What had the Professor done?

The reflection slowly took in the room and everyone who was in it. "Are there any other volunteers who want to enter my world?" he asked, a smirk gracing his features. "No? I thought not." He turned to the assistants by the Mirror Traveller. "You there. Turn it off."

"But, what about the Professor?"

"Oh, I imagine he's having a grand old time in my world. Now shut it down. And cover this mirror. In fact, I don’t want to see another mirror in this room ever again!" He watched as researchers scrambled to obey, continuing under his breath, “If he wants to be a mirror slave it’s fine by me. But I’m never going back there ever again!”

Saturday, May 1, 2010

At the Ottawa Art Gallery

"What's it do?"

"Everything and nothing."

"Like, the machine exists in a state of Enlightenment?"


"So what exactly is the point of it. From what it sounds like, it just sorta sits there."

"I'm not sure you understand modern art my friend."

"I'm just saying, for $80 I would at least expect some flashing lights or something. This just sort of looks like a tin can with a screw-driver run through it. Actually I'm pretty sure that's all it is."

"This device my friend, transcends mere flashing lights. It simply. Is."


"Listen do you want the damn sculpture or not?"

"I think your salesmanship needs work."

"So's your face!" *smokebomb*

Monday, April 26, 2010

May Quote

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that old boy. I have machines of all kinds. Marvellous machines. They can do things...you will not believe!"

-Robotnik, Sonic Boom (Sonic SatAM)

Sunday, April 25, 2010

The World Around Me

To see what can’t be seen is truly unnerving;
Though mysterious creatures are we,
We are never prepared for the strange.
The mundane is all we seek in life,
And that is very sad.

On a dark night, I walked a lonely street
When a voice called to me by name;
I recognized neither the voice nor the face.
Approaching me, tall and blind, offering me the way,
He gave me his right eye and it opened my eyes
To a world that constantly surrounds me,
But one I have never witnessed.

It scared me. Not only the witnessing,
But the knowledge that I was the blind man
For all this time was a deeply troubling prophecy.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Ode to Stoicism

A seasoned man advised me once,
Our strong feelings,
Any which way,
Wear down the enamel of the soul.

Herald of sore dreams,
Beautiful with skies so sullen,
I can't bring myself to pity him.
I can't face him tonight.

There is a flavour,
To that wonderful, wretched world;
Though it slips from my mind.
I admire him, but I cannot return.

Night and night he returns.
Sitting there alone.
I wonder what worlds you've been to,
Mr. Stoic Man.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Three to rule. Or so I try

Note: Continuation of poem "One to Live. Two to Die"

Again we meet, inside your dream
Your loneliness has summoned me.
I'm here to stay, and this you know
Though dawn may come I will not go.
I'm at your side forevermore
You've called me here, beyond death's door.

You’ve tried to live as best you could
You’ve loved them all. I knew you would
But still they lied and cut you deep
I've watched you cry, while you sleep
But here I am forevermore.
You've called me here, beyond death's door.

This life I gave was not enough
This world of strife is far too rough.
It shall not see another dawn
When you wake, it will be gone.
And at your side forevermore
We shall rule, beyond death’s door.

Yet still your soul is shining bright
I feel the warmth, the brilliant light.
Through your eyes, you see no wrong
Although the darkness is so long.
You’d leave my side forevermore.
If I end this world, beyond death’s door.

And through your eyes I finally see
What once was lost, return to me.
You know the world is good at heart
The pain you’ve felt is but a part
You’ll love this world forevermore.
You love this world, beyond death’s door.

And so this world shall keep its state
Untouched by me, a hidden fate.
And we shall live as mortals do
Live as if our years were few.
But we shall live forevermore
You and me, beyond death’s door.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


She's poisonous, you know.

Alas, nothing is as sweet as before you have tasted it.
It's like, you think you know what's best for you. You have a pretty decent understanding of what you'll like before you even try it.

Well, sometimes, that turns to obsession.

When you really think you want something, and I mean truly and absolutely covet something that you don't have, your life starts to morph. Each day, you grow more and more dependent on your persistent daydreaming. Soon, every spare thought becomes engrossed by it. You fit whatever it is into every situation and to deny yourself of that blissful escape hurts far more than any real thing ever could.

And it can get worse.

What if what you really wanted was a person? Every heavenly glimpse, every euphoric note, every beautiful thought that you could experience weighs your soul down.
Yet, you still proceed; there is no logic here. The crashing lows are absolutely no match to those incredible, magical highs. You trick yourself into thinking what is there has real meaning, but it's shallow. It is so very, very empty.

That's why it can get really dangerous to trust yourself. More often than not, you don't know what's good for you. I thought I could trust myself, I thought I knew better, but I didn't. And nothing in this world stings more than that realization.

See, I can tell you, I can warn you. There are a thousand ailments of the mind that have a weaker hold than the curse of the siren. You won't ever be able to fool yourself into thinking that logic is more powerful than your feelings, but if you want my advice, listen here: You will always find what you want when you are no longer obsessing over it.

One to live. Two to die.

Through death's doors you walk alone.
While I rule, a throne of bone.
A life so short and oh so sweet.
Far to soon for us to meet.
But here you are. A head held high
For me to judge, or so I try.

The joys you've had were oh so rare
All alone, with none to share.
Such pain you’ve felt, it’s clear to me
That this death, has set you free.
Yet here you stand, head held high.
For me to judge, or so I try.

If you could, what would you do
Tear it down and start a new?
Would you set the world in flame
Or let it live, despite the pain.
Here you stand, head held high.
I ask you judge, and so you try.

No no no. This should not be.
So much undone, so much to see.
I fear your light, a shining soul
Is doomed to darkness, this I know.
But here you stand. A head held high
My place to judge, but will not try.

Eyes so pure and heart so free.
You've known such things long dead to me.
My love is lost, my heart is black
These things and more, I truly lack
My throne is cold and oh so high
I've been judged, and yet you cry.

Your fate I rule, but I refuse
So much to gain, so much to lose.
So now I grant, a brand new life.
For you to live, that place of strife.
We'll judge the world. To live or die.
When next we meet. You and I.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Cheeze It, It's The Cops!!!

Silence. Sirens. Silence.

April Quote Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiixxxx

Here is the quote for April times. It may be a bit early, but I run the risk of getting busy and forgetting, so here it is!

"Now the sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence... someone might have escaped from their singing; but from their silence, certainly never. "
-Franz Kafka

(He, is, Franz, Kaf, Ka! Franzkafka!)

Monday, March 8, 2010

Into the Abyss

“Foolish mortal; how dare you disturb me? You do not realize the powers you toy with! For, I am the Abyss! You think you can just stumble into my realm and disturb me without consequence? Oh no, there are grave consequences for your actions, mortal!”

“Wait, are you talking to me? What are you talking about?”

“Ha! Do you feel the darkness pulling on your very soul? Uncomfortable, is it not? Slowly, the darkness will surround you and eventually consume your very flesh.”

“Um, it is dark out but…it’s not even that dark. I mean, there are streetlights on.”

“Oh…A minor setback, for the time being, but I assure you, mortal, that this fact will shortly be remedied. For I, the Abyss, will now summon the surrounding darkness to do my bidding. Shudder in horror, mortal, as I entwine the very strands of darkness, and combine them into large tentacles for which to destroy these lights you speak of, along with…you. Wah-hah, wah-hah, wuh-huh-huh-hah!”

“…Well? Nothing’s happening.”

“Ah…While you may have quashed my shadow tentacles–”

“I will assure you that I didn’t do anything.”

“–Nothing…can prepare you…for the horrors that now await you.”

“…Is that…the end of your story?”



“…Just now, I call forth to the deepest depths of the void, in which lie the gruesomest–”

“That’s not even a real word!”

“–horrors you have ever seen. As we speak, these creatures begin to rise up into your mortal realm in order to clutch you in their horrible appendages. You will be dragged down into the deepest, darkest area of the void, never to be seen again.”

“Okay, you know what; you don’t have any special powers. I can see you; you’re just some guy with a blanket over his head. Do I even know you?”

“Stop! Do not touch the blanket of the Abyss! Aha! A hellhound has come!”

“That’s a black lab…on a leash…”

“Come, hellhound, protect your master from this…stink…beast…of stink! The Abyss, away!”


Monday, February 22, 2010

March Quote

"He who battles monsters must beware, lest he become a monster himself. And if you stare too long into an abyss, the abyss stares back into you."
-Friedrich Nietzche

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Blue Eyes

Once upon a time, in a land far far away. It was so very far in fact it was beyond the bounds of the Universe itself. A place so very secret that it existed beyond the Sea of Nightmares, which no man nor God could safely pass.

It was a place of magic and dreams, of unicorns and faeries and things without names because were they named, they would become powerless. That said, names themselves have power of a sort, and among those names one in particular held potency.

They called her Raven.

Men, demons and gods came to court her. And she laughed at them and all of their foolishness. None of them interested her at all. She was free, to dance and to sing and to be Raven. She could not do otherwise, for that was what she was.

And then came the boy with the blue eyes. From where no one knew. It was his eyes though that struck her, for they held powerful magic. They were brilliantly coloured, blue as the arctic ice and when she looked into them Raven felt something very much akin to fear. Only it wasn't fear.

It certainly didn't help that he had a cute face. It didn't help that his hair seemed like the perfect shade of blonde and was so very soft to touch. And it certainly didn't help that his body was hard and strong.

And then one day Raven's virginity was gone. Stolen from the locked cabinet where she kept it(only foolish girls kept it on their person!) and the boy with the blue eyes was gone.

Raven had never had much use for anger or rage, she'd never needed it. But she also knew that she had been used and played as a fool, and something precious stolen. She swore the bloodiest of vengeances upon the boy with the blue eyes and set off to hunt him down.

The boy fled across the countryside, but she tracked him down. He fled across the mountains, and still she caught his trail. He fled beyond the Sea of Nightmares, how she could never tell, but she pursued him even there borne by a boat fashioned from the tears of orphans.

He was surprised, Raven could see, when she finally caught up with him. "Did you think I would not come for what was mine?"

"You gave it to me." Was his reply.

And he looked at her with those precious blue eyes. And looking into them was like it had felt the first time she'd seen him. And somehow the idea of harming those eyes... she knew she simply couldn't do it.


Returned home, Raven reflected on what had been a perfect moment. She savoured it. The feel of her long, onyx nails slipping into his cute(though not any longer) face. He screamed, she recalled with some relish. There had been the smell of fear in the air: fear smelled very much like urine. It hadn't bothered her. One hand to hold him down, one whose nails sank in deep. Life was beautiful.

Gently though, it all had to be very gently done. A smile creased her lips, and she tapped her long black nails against the wooden arms of her chair. For truly she could never bring herself to harm those beautiful blue eyes.

Slowly she looked up at the two eyes brilliantly blue eyes mounted on her wall.

Now they would look at her forever.

Monday, January 25, 2010

February Quote

“You manage to get a hold of your virginity, but you still piss your pants.”
- The Book of Bryan, entry 1.2.18

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Dust Devils

What is 'justice' but a word?
What does the Universe care of 'justice'?
Would you live alone, and die alone
If the world gave one lick for justice?

Yet here we are, dust spun into form -
Shifting patterns whirling our way through the world
Picking up dust, tossing it aside,
Sharing it as we pass by and through one another on our lonely roads.
Dust devils, that's what we are.
Devils with pretensions of ourselves.

You think this is reality?
That this is what things are?
You're daft!
You're patterns in motion,
That's all you are, all you were, and its all you'll ever be!

You think that stuff, that thing we call 'body' is you?
There's not an inch, not a piece, not a molecule, not a particle
Not a single thing in it to connect it with the you you used to be.
You shed all that stuff long ago.
A dust devil.
A pattern in the wind.
An oh so very soon to die pattern.
That is what we are.
Patterns spun in on ourselves till we think there is 'we' and 'I'.
Its all delusion!

And yet...
Who wants to be alone?
How many times have you cried in the night away from prying eyes,
Cradled in the sweet embrace of self-pity?
How many times have you wanted those things the world promises;
Happiness, acceptance, success, affection, love?
How many times have you known frustration, bitterness, anger, fear, uncertainty?
You are everyone!
You who have left so many words unsaid,
So many dreams unfulfilled,
So many feelings set up on shelves.
There's no room in the universe to express all these things...
Silly me to try with words!
And yet, when all is said and done, and all illusions put to rest.
We're still here:
Still looking in a mirror,
At ourselves. At one another.
Still looking for justice.

But the truth is: for us devils, there can be none.

So, oh dusty dust devil
Let's dance the night away,
For it's five to four on ballroom floor
And we're ought but dust anyway.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Not on my watch

Light flakes of snow drifted through the evening air. Standing on the edge of a low cliff, a tall cloaked figure stared across an open field at a small manor overlooking the nearby town. With the sun setting to his right, bathing the sky in a deep red glow, the man turned to find a safe route down when a motion in the fields below caught his eye.

Someone, a man ill dressed for the cold, burst out from the tree line heading towards the town. Before he could make it more than a dozen yards an arrow shot from the woods, piercing his leg. Seconds later a half dozen other men casually emerged from the woods brandishing swords and axes. With a sigh and a quiet curse, the cloaked figure leapt off the side of the cliff, slid more than 20ft down a near vertical rock face and took off through the woods.

Gerald lay face down in the snow, panting. He could hear the crunch of snow behind him as someone approached. Desperately Gerald pushed himself up, trying to get to his knees, to get up and run. But before he could lift himself more than a few inches a heavy boot slammed into his back, blasting the breath from his lungs.

“Gave us chase there lad” said the man standing on Gerald’s back. “Name be Breck, and I be executioner tonight. But first, we got questions.”

Gerald gasped for breathe as Breck took his weight of Gerald’s back. “What. What do you want?”

“Tell us about old man in manor” said Breck, kneeling beside Gerald’s head. “You give good answer. Quick death. Throat slit. Nice and clean. Yes? Give bad answer.” Breck shook his head. “You not want that. I not want that. No one want that. So give good answer.”

Gerald franticly looked twisted his head, looking for some way out. But all he saw was Breck and the five grim faced men surrounding him. “I don’t know anything about the old man” he cried. “I’m just passing through! Honest!!”

Breck lowered his head and sighed. “That not good answer. Why you make me do this?” Breck asked, standing. “I not bad man. I good man.” Said Breck, as he plunged his sword into Gerald’s shoulder. Gerald screams, tensing with pain, but Beck continues as if he didn’t notice. “But old man make people angry. Powerful people. People who ask Breck to make old man go away.” With a sharp jerk Breck twisted the blade, sending fiery jolts of pain trough Gerald. “And these people. When they ask, you do.”

As Gerald desperately pleaded, trying to convince Breck that he knew nothing about the old man, the cloaked figure crept behind one of the outline bandits. In a single quick motion the cloaked figure grabbed the man’s hair and brought a long knife up to the man’s neck. “I shall give you a single chance to explain your actions” the cloaked man called out.

Breck looked up from Gerald. Squinting, he took a look around the field. Not seeing anyone besides the tall cloaked figure, Breck shrugged. “He alone. Kill him.”

“So be it” the cloak man muttered, slitting the captured bandit’s throat.

The four men charged, yelling at the top of their lungs and weapons held high. Breck turned back to Gerald, ready to continue questioning poor Gerald, but stopped as the field went suddenly quiet. Confused, Breck pulled his sword out of Gerald’s back as he turned again to face the cloaked man.

“Huh” managed Breck before a knife entered his skull, collapsing to join the four other warriors at the cloaked man’s feet.

Gerald groaned, barely conscious, as the cloaked figured carefully lifted him up. Breathing heavily, Gerald couldn’t make out the face under the cloak. “Who are you” he managed, his breathing short and laboured.

“Priest”, the cloaked man replied.

“Priest of what?” he tried to ask, but the siren call of sleep proved irresistible.

Off in the distance, the sounds of barking dogs could be heard. Priest smiled. At least the old man sent some sleds. Now, time to find out what the old man had called him for.

Friday, January 8, 2010

And then there was two

Crow perched on a small outcropping high in the torch lit cave, and smiled. Wrapped in the black feathered cloak that gives him his name, Crow was invisible to those below. He loved the rush of power he felt, looking down over his slaves pressed tight in the cages. Wild, fearful, pleading eyes peered from the faces of every kind of race, watching as the guards made their rounds.

Humans, dwarves, elves and things he didn’t even know the name of. All creatures have worth, whether as servants, entertainment or food. Crow didn’t care what his men brought in. There was always a buyer.

A shout from one of the guards in the corner drew Crow’s attention. His men had managed to grab a young feline and its containment was proving difficult. Brutally cunning fighters and incredibly stubborn, a properly broken feline can fetch a huge sum as a prized pet among certain noble classes. As difficult as it is to get a child away from its tribe, they were well worth the effort. Crow had lucked out with this one. Its tribe had faced a brutal winter, loosing most of its members during a extensive cold snap. Weakened as they were, his men were easily able to dispatch the few remaining tribe members. It was a shame the two other children didn’t survive. They were worth only a fraction as much as meat.

Leaning in to get a better look, Crow reached back to grab the rope he used to climb up for support. But instead of rough, thick rope, his fingers wrapped around smooth, cold chain. With a start, Crow let go and tried to spin around, but his foot slipped on the narrow ledge. Before he could even cry out, four ink black chains unfurled from the darkness above and wrapped tightly around him.

Crow tried to scream for help as a small, thin, naked man dropped from the darkness onto the ledge, but the chains had crushed all air from his lungs. He couldn’t move, scream, or even breathe.

The small man sat there hunched, staring at him, as Crow had stared at the slaves. The man’s pale skin was stretched tight over his ribs; his long dark hair was thin and greasy and reaching out from behind his back were six long, oily black chains. But worst of all was the man’s eyes. Open wide, his eyes glinted with a hint of madness and burned with a fire from deep within.

Silently, a chain rose to between Crow and this terrifying man. At the end of the blade was a smooth blade, the light of the fires below glinting off its metal. “My church has fallen and so have you” said the man, as the blade slowly drifted over Crow’s heart.

Desperately, Crow tried to struggle, tried to break free. But it was no use. The chains would not budge, and his lungs burned from lack of air. With one quick motion the blade sunk into Crow’s heart. As his vision faded, Crow could hear the man’s final words. “Your soul has been weighed. Your life has been judged. They have been found wanting.”

Po looked at the cooling corpse for several minutes before lowering it onto the ledge behind him. The guards must die as well, for there was too much blood on their hands to be washed clean. But first, Po must find the young feline. Before she died, Po promised the mother that he would save the child, and Priest would not forgive Po breaking such a promise.