shell313-blog

[shell313-blog]

[shell313-blog]

Frozen

Since you’ve been gone it seems time has been still, The sun and moon played tag as the sea began to chill. The leaves dried up and fell from their branch, Drifting towards the earth in a hypnotic dance. Everything happens as I refuse to move from this space, You were here with me once and now you’re in another place. I don’t want to hear that you’re happy or that now you’re at peace, Call me selfish and cold because I just want you with me. I want to laugh with you about my day and remember good times, I need you to remind me life is worth it and that the day is always mine.

Dreaming is no longer the same and somehow not in color, Pieces of my soul are missing that will never be recovered. Washed out and faded images hanging on the line, Those days are distant memories of a forgotten time. But still things keep moving as the flowers open for the spring, Colors are painted all around me as the world begins to sing. I’d rather have my silence and I reject the bright sunshine, Tapping me on my shoulder telling me it’s all going to be fine. The dirt is comforting since that’s where we all go in the end, I may as well get acquainted and make it my closest friend.

I thought I heard you in that sunshine as I gazed upon the ground, Was it you telling me to get up and turn that stillness around? Were you trying to break the silence and pull me to my feet? Move on from the shadows- there’s a brand new day to greet.

You will always be in my heart, always in my soul, Knowing you will never leave, I can start to let you go.

[shell313-blog]

Spaces

If only I could know you on the inside not separated by space, I wish that I could make you laugh and put a smile on your face. I remember the first time I heard you cry I felt you were part of my soul, You had been part of me forever and you arrived to make us whole. I knew that it was your little voice even from the other side of the hall, They kept telling me to rest but you were so helpless and so small. “Open your eyes,” I whispered as I gazed upon your sleeping body, You were warm and soft like a little angel that fell just for me. But that was so long ago, I realize as I watch you rush past, I tried to hang on for dear life but it goes by so fast. “Open you eyes,” I whisper but it seems you’re unable to hear, I love you today and I will continue to year after year. Through all these painful spaces I always reach for you, Even in the darkness I hold you as I can always see through.

[shell313-blog]

Sartorius

Of all the angels I was born to watch, I loved to watch her the most. Sartorius was made to be God’s scribe. She was the record keeper in Heaven. With God’s absence, she became the embodiment of his message and goals. At least, that’s how we all felt. There wasn’t a syllable she hadn’t been privy to. She was there for the birth of every angel as well as the creation of the humans. She knew the minute details of every molecule in the universe. She was God’s memory. Many of the angels clung to her as a way to find comfort. She wasn’t God but she was the next best thing. As the years passed, I felt that maybe she was really meant to be God's replacement. After all, who really knew if God would ever come back? Sartorius seemed to have the most resentment for the humans. Immediately, she began to work on their demise. The Fallen Angel program was her best achievement. The humans had to go, that's one thing all of us knew. The easiest way to destroy the humans would be to get them to somehow start destroying themselves. The problem with that is while humans were created with free-will they were not inherently evil. They were also quite charming and managed to ensnare some of the weaker angels. God was not opposed to the union of his creations. When us angels were in charge of heaven, it would be the worst offense. How could the humans be destroyed and the angels that betrayed us? The brilliant Sartorius went to work. God had created hell as a prison for angels that misbehaved. Lucifer occupied that space, however and simply locking them away was a waste of resources. Any angel that was caught with a human would be forced to be reborn as one. The best part? The soul of the angel would still be part of the new being. The soul of the being would still have a resentment towards humans (knowing it was the human that caused their fall). The fallen angel would grow up hating other humans and would end up committing brutal atrocities against their fellow man. You humans would recognize them as serial killers, psychopaths, etc. The children and offspring of these fallen angels would also share some of that tortured soul. As you can imagine, it did not take many fallen angels for the rest to fall in line. The consequences became real. Many angels no longer wanted to go to Earth out of fear. The humans were definitely the enemy. The war truly began and the humans didn't even know it was going on.

[shell313-blog]

Living in the Music

You taught me to live in the music and guided my soul,

you gave me the light and taught me all that I know.

Now that you’re gone I feel trapped in your shadow,

prisoner to the silence in a refrain for tomorrow.

The bridge is so long I can’t see the end,

I can't make it across I can only descend.

Play that song for me whenever you're around,

I’ll listen closely for it and promise not to fall down.

I’ll be all the dreams you had for me so you're always proud,

and whenever things are quiet, I will play my music loud.

[shell313-blog]

Kayla and Caelic

Kayla could never forget the child that once lived inside her womb, especially on the anniversary of her due date. It sounded so strange to call it that, but she could not say “birthday” because her baby never got the chance to be born. Kayla’s life never seemed to move forward after that, someone had put everything on hold. She remembered feeling her baby move and wanting desperately to see it’s little face-her little face. The baby was a girl. She’d even chosen her name…Natalie. She wanted to name her daughter after her mother. After years of her letting her mother down, she wanted to do something that would finally make her proud. Her little Natalie…She frequently tried to imagine what her little baby looked like, each miserable day of her life that dragged on. “Watch out! Hot plates!” Kayla instinctively sidled the wall. The restaurant she worked in was tiny, and she could never understand its attraction. The restaurant reviews, which referred to the shoe box as “cozy”, praised their filet mignon. Little did the customers know, most of the time they were eating recycled food, meaning when the last customer didn’t finish their food…well, it simply found its way to the next table. All the servers had to do was dress it up a bit with tasteful garnishing, and presto! Kayla didn’t enjoy this, but it was part of the job unfortunately, and she had no choice but to comply. One can imagine the generosity of such employers. Needless to say, Kayla struggled to make end’s meet. Kayla looked back at the floor. She’d been seated. It was a middle aged couple. The wife was morbidly obese. Her skin was covered in beads of sweat, as though the short walk from the door to her seat had been a marathon. Kayla often tried to place herself in the shoes of the obese. It is hard to imagine living with all that extra weight. The closest she could come to it, was her pregnancy. She hadn’t made it to the end, either, so she still couldn’t really wrap her mind around it. The husband was fit. He handed his wife a handkerchief to wipe her brow. There was nothing graceful about her movement. Everything was over exaggerated. She almost knocked over the cheesy little glass centerpiece as she reached for the folded cloth. The skin on her triceps hung like the skin of an elephant. Then the woman smiled. There was something quite charming about it. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the chandelier over their table. Her husband’s eyes were filled with love. “Good evening, my name is Kayla, can I get you something to drink?” The husband’s eyes were fixed on his wife. “I’ll have a glass of merlot.” He then shifted his eyes towards Kayla. His wife smiled playfully. “I’ll have the same.” She winked at her husband. “Excellent…you two seem to be in joyful spirits tonight,” Kayla remarked. “Yes, we are…aren’t we Hal?” Her husband smiled. “Yes, Kitty…we just found out that our daughter is pregnant…” Kitty started fanning herself. “At first I felt old, becoming a grandmother and all…so I was a little sad. Then I thought about what it would be like to have that little baby in my arms…and oh what a miracle!” Kayla’s heart sank. Yes, what a miracle, one that some decided she should not be privy to. “Congratulations!” She said forcing a smile. She felt that pain again, that always seemed to stab her in the chest. “Do you have any children, dear?” Kitty asked. “Me? No…” Kayla despised that question, and people always felt the need to ask her that one. When would they finally stop? Every time she was asked, she’d feel this bitterness inside coupled with an aching inside her chest. She’d feel sheer loneliness, and emptiness. There was also a longing for that child, and the face that she never beheld. She could only imagine it, always envisioning a sweet, angelic combination of herself and the man that fathered her. In her most enamored dreams, she could feel the softness of her daughter’s skin against her cheek. She could smell the purity of her breath. Her heart was always warm in those dreams, and there was no pain inside of her. Then she would wake up, alone and cold. “I never had any children.” “Well, you’re still young.” Young, but barren. She could not have any more children, that’s what the doctor said. She’d been beaten so severely by Natalie’s father, she would never conceive another child. Natalie’s father’s name was Nicolas. Nicolas and Kayla met in high school. They were in the same math class. They shared one common thread, they both were bored with the class and struggled to achieve decent grades. By some twisted stroke of fate they were seated next to each other. Their conversations initially started over their failing grades in the class. Nicolas would look over at his classmate as her face melted into the paper, marked up with red ink. Her eyes were fixed on one spot. Nicolas would say something like: “Probably did better than me…” (He’d already peeked and knew that she had). He’d then hold his paper up for her to see. She’d smile. There was something inside of Nicolas that always wanted to see her smile. It went on from there. Nicolas started asking Kayla what her favorite color was, and then what kind of music she liked. He then started carrying her books for her, and walking her to the lockers. After that, he would find her in the cafeteria and join her for spam and partially cooked, frozen French fries. The following year, their junior year, by another stroke of the same twisted fate, they ended up being in all the same classes. Their friendship blossomed that year, and by their senior year they had fallen in love. They each took each other’s virginity, and to everyone else, it was a fairy tale romance. Nicolas played baseball, and was very talented. Everyone said he was going to be in the major leagues one day. Kayla didn’t care much for baseball, but she went to every one of his games. She would sit in the first row of the bleachers and cheer for him. She learned all the ins and outs of the game from this. After each game, she would talk to Nicolas about how he played. He always wanted to know. One night they played their rival high school….Cedar Creek, the high school across town. Nicolas said he would drive Kayla home that night. They won, but Nicolas was off in his game. He struck out twice, got one base hit and made an error at second. “How do you think I played?” he asked her. “Great.” He glanced at her. “Really…how do you think I played?” “Honestly? I think you were off tonight. You were a bit over zealous at bat…you need to be a little patient and wait for the right pitch.” He suddenly seemed angry. “Like you would know…” “What?” “You don’t fucking know anything Kayla. All you’re good for is lying on your back and getting fucked.” She’d never heard him talk this way. “Nick…” He struck her. That was the first time. She should’ve realized then that it was the beginning, but she didn’t. “Take me home, Nick…please.” “Kayla…I’m sorry…really, it won’t happen again.” “You’re right, it won’t…take me home.” Well, everyone knows this story. She broke up with him. He begged and pleaded until she finally took him back. He bought her a pretty little necklace and promised he would never hurt her again. They married after graduation. Nicolas’ baseball career was interrupted by the bottle. The beatings became much more frequent. Then Kayla got pregnant. It wasn’t until she felt the life inside of her move, she realized she couldn’t stay with Nicolas. He beat her that day, and killed their baby. He’s still in prison. Their divorce was finalized a year later. She hadn’t been with a man since. She was too afraid of them. She went on a few dates, and pushed all of them away. She decided she was better off alone. “I’ll be back with your order,” she said to the couple. She walked off, taking a deep breath. It was like a thousand icicles stabbing her on the inside. She felt lightheaded as she walked to the kitchen. She sat down in the kitchen and put her head between her knees. “Kayla, are you alright?” Barbara, one of the other waitresses came rushing to her. She ripped the ticket out of her book and gave it to the cook, then returned to Kayla. “Kayla…” She went to grab her arm. Kayla pulled it away. “I’m alright, Barb…” Kayla had attempted suicide after Natalie died. She slit her wrists. Her mother found her “just in time”, though. She never wore short sleeves, and never allowed anyone to see the scars. It’s one of those things people know when they see it. They wouldn’t ask: “What did that come from?” They would know exactly how the scars got there, but they would always want to know why. What pushed her over the edge, and made her no longer want to be alive? How does someone finally reach that breaking point, what does it take? People always wanted to know when they saw it. She couldn’t handle the questions anymore…so she attempted suicide a second time. She took a bottle of sleeping pills. She was found again “just in time”. She almost died from it, spending a week in the hospital. She stopped after that, she realized someone, somewhere, wanted her to live. She didn’t know why, and she’d deduced that whoever it was, had to be the sickest, cruelest, most inhumane entity anyone could ever imagine. If she wanted to go…why couldn’t she just go? What purpose did she serve, anyway? That night she walked home from the shoebox she worked in, to the shoebox she lived in. It was cold outside, even with the layers she was bundled in. She knew the jacket wasn’t the best suit of armor from this winter night, but she didn’t expect this level of ineffectiveness. She felt the cold in her arthritic bones, and they moaned in resistance as she trekked along. It was eerily quiet and no one was out. The lights from the street lamps were unusually dim. She started to feel uneasy, and tried to rush through this uncomfortable experience. It was at that moment, that she was wishing away all these terrifying emotions, that she heard the footsteps behind her. She turned slightly, very slightly, so that whoever was behind her couldn’t make eye contact. She couldn’t see anything. She didn’t want to look. When one looks something in the eye, they are forced to confront it. She couldn’t figure out how people could believe ignoring something will make it disappear. There she was doing just that. She walked a little bit faster. She felt an overwhelming presence. The air around her got thicker, and the space she was in got smaller. She started to feel trapped. She stopped and turned around. She decided to confront this person. “Hello?” There was nothing in response. She could swear she saw something in the shadows, but she couldn’t be sure. So she called out to it again. “Please…come out.” A shadow started moving and coming toward her. It was a man in a long, black trench coat. He approached her. “Cold night, isn’t it?” “Why are you following me?” She grabbed her purse. “You can have all my money, it’s not much…but please, just don’t hurt me.” The man laughed. “Hurt you? I’m sorry that I frightened you. This was not my intention. Please, let’s walk, it’s quite cold out here.” Reluctantly, she started walking again. “My name is Caelic. I mean you no harm.” She looked at him, his skin was so pale he was illuminated in the darkness. “That’s good, because I don’t want to be harmed. I have just gotten out of work and I’m really not in the mood to fend off an attacker.” “I know, Kayla.” She stopped. “How do you know my name?” “I know everything about you.” “How is that?” “I made it a point to. You’re interesting.” “Okay, I’m not in the mood to fend off a crazy stalker, either.” She started walking again. “It’s not like that, I can assure you.” “Well then, what?” “I want you to work for me.” She thought for a moment. Was this one of those once in a lifetime opportunities people dream of? Opportunities that free them from their miserable, caged existences? An opportunity that will allow her to leave that sad, tormented life? “What do you do?” Caelic laughed. “That’s what I like about you. Ready for something new.” She shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m not in the best situation right now…” “Yes, I know. I would like you to go to your ex-husband, first.” “I knew there was a catch. Unless it involves killing him, count me out.” “It does, actually.” She stopped again. “You can’t be serious.” “Would you kill him?” She’d fantasized about it so many times. She thought about killing that son of a bitch that killed her Natalie and her chances of ever having a child. That son of a bitch that robbed her of youth and any chance of ever finding love or happiness. “I…I don’t know if I could kill anyone, as much as I hate the piece of shit.” “You don’t know because you never have.” “Listen, I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing this…but I can’t talk about it.”   “Kayla, I want to show you something.” “I’m not going anywhere with you…so you can forget that.” “You don’t have to…look.” Caelic and her were stopped by an electronics shop in the middle of town. There were Televisions in the window. “Okay, I’m looking…” Suddenly there was an image on the screen. Kayla felt her heart skip a beat. There was a young girl on the screen. She had long, wavy brown hair. She was very thin, and wore tight jeans. She wore a red tank top that skimmed her belly button. She was playing pool. She saw Nicolas approach her. “Hey, I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink?” The woman gave him a condescending glance and continued her game. “Hey…we don’t have to do anything, I just wanted to talk to you.” The woman stood upright, banging the cue to the sticky floor. “Why should I talk to you?” “You might find me interesting…” “Is that so?” “I was hoping you might…” He smiled at the girl. “Come on, just one drink, if you don’t find me the slightest bit intriguing you can walk away. Hey, I’ll even pay your table fees for the night.” The woman thought for a moment. “Sounds like a pretty good deal. Come on, I’ll have a shot of whiskey.” “I love women that love whiskey…” Nicolas escorted his new companion to the bar. As Kayla watched her ex-husband and this young woman drinking and talking she tried to figure out exactly when this happened. She knew it must’ve been after high school, so they were married. They had been married for five years. She finally turned to Caelic. “When was this?” she asked him, not sure she really wanted to know the answer. “This was the beginning of it all…” “Okay, and when was that?” “You were both nineteen years old…” Kayla looked back towards the screen. “One year after we were married?” “Just about…it had been brewing long before…” “What had been brewing?” “Just watch and see…” Kayla turned back towards the screen and continued watching. She had an odd feeling as she watched the man she loathed, however was married to at one point, wooing another female. As she watched Nicolas conversing with this woman, she started to feel uneasy. As his pursuit of this woman ensued, her uneasiness turned to terror, and she couldn’t quite place that fear. “So….do you think I’m interesting?” Nicolas finally asked the woman. “Sure. I don’t know your name though.” “My name is Tom.” “Tom…well your name is kinda boring, but that’s okay. Mine’s Stacy. That’s not really that interesting either though…” She took her fifth shot of whiskey. “You are though…and you’re quite beautiful, Stacy.” The woman blushed. “Thank you, Tom, you’re not so bad yourself.” “Did you want to get out of here? We can go somewhere a little more private so we can really talk. I don’t usually do this, Stacy. I’m wary of picking up women in bars, but there’s something unique about you that is forcing me to go against my better judgment.” She looked down at the bar. “I dunno…you seem kinda nice.” Nicolas grabbed the woman’s hand. “I can read palms, ya know?” She smiled, and looked into his eyes. “Stop it…” “No, really, I can.” He turned her hand over and began rubbing her palm with his index finger. “What does it say?” “It says that you’re going to fall in love with his big loser in a run down sports bar…” Stacy pulled her hand away and started laughing. “Cheesy…” He smiled. “Sorry, pretty girls have that effect on me.” “Well, cheesy dorks like yourself can’t be dangerous. Alright. Where do you wanna go?” “We could start with a drive. I’ll let you pick the place, how does that sound?” “Okay.” The two left the bar and got into the car. It wasn’t Nicolas’ car, though. He drove a Ford pick up truck. In this scene, he was driving a small sports car. Kayla couldn’t recognize the make and model. It was blue. The two were driving for a while, until Nicolas reached over and turned the radio down. “Hey, Stacy, can I show you my favorite spot?” Stacy was drinking a bottle of whiskey Nicolas had in the car, and was extremely intoxicated. “Okay.” Nicolas drove down the road until they reached the entrance to the park. He parked the car. “Come on, get out, we have to walk a little.” Stacy groaned. “I’m too drunk for that.” “You can hold my hand if you want.” She stumbled out of the car and followed Nicolas to the entrance of the woods. They walked through the woods for a bit, the girl tripping and walking awkwardly down the trail. Nicolas kept catching her. They finally reached a clearing. There was a large tree that had fallen over, and now offered a fine seat. “Sit down, Stacy.” Nicolas pulled a pair of gloves out his pocket and put them on. Stacy was preoccupied, trying to sit steadily on the tree. “I think you’re gorgeous, Stacy.” “Yeah…you’ve told me.” Nicolas nodded and walked toward her. “I would love to make love to your corpse.” Stacy laughed. “You’re so weird.” “And you’re so stupid.” Kayla watched as her ex-husband pulled the hunting knife from his pocket and dragged it across the girl’s throat. The skin separated as the thick crimson blood and flesh fought their way out. Kayla listened to the gurgling sounds that escaped Stacy’s dying body. Nicolas started slashing the girl’s body, until she stopped breathing. He lay the knife down and started to remove the girl’s clothing. Kayla turned away. “I can’t watch anymore…” “Very well…you get the point anyway.” The screen turned black. Kayla’s body started shaking, and the tears started rolling down her face, the cool familiar tears. “That can’t be real…who are you?” “I already told you who I am, and yes that was very real. She was only the first.” Kayla buried her face in her hands. “The first…what do you mean, the first?” “There were at least forty of them. They never found the bodies. The cops just assumed the women were runaways, and due to the fact he did it in different counties and different states, the missing women were never connected.” “How could I have not known about this?” Caelic laughed. “It was second nature to him. There was no way for you to have known, not unless he were to show you that side of him, which, he finally did. It was the murder of his own child that finally locked him away.” “Why did he do these things?” Caelic started walking. “Is there a coffee shop, a library or somewhere we can go to get warm. It’s freezing out here.” Kayla gestured toward a building across the street. “I live right over there. Let me warn you, if you try anything, I will kill you.” Caelic laughed. “Thanks for the warning.”

[shell313-blog]

Caelic

Eva looked out the window, gazing desperately at the town she would soon have to put out of her mind. She felt regret, a deep penetrating regret that pierced through every layer of her soul. Why did she believe so much in a lie? How could she have believed in a smooth talker with shiny hair? She looked down at her hands. They were clean…at least they appeared to be squeaky clean. She knew better than that. She knew they bore the blood and tears of millions. She didn’t have to wield the weapon, all she had to do was vote. She never would’ve imagined how costly that opinion would be. She tried not to blame herself, there was a whole country responsible for this. After all, her one vote meant nothing, or did it? “Alright Eva…listen to me, I have to go.” Her husband, Arvin, a high ranking officer in one of the most notorious armies in human history, had a small knapsack slung over his right shoulder. Eva was trying to hold back the tears. German women must be strong…no, that’s something he would’ve said…the greatest liar, the most profound manipulator, Adolf Hitler. “I know.” She clasped her hands together and sighed deeply. “I…can’t go with you, Arvin.” “I know, Eva. I don’t expect you to come with me in this. I knew what was happening, I never told you. You are not responsible for these things, not as I am. It is not fair that you should have to run. You, my dear, have done nothing wrong.” Eva threw her arms around her husband and sobbed into his chest. “Oh, Arvin…I wish this didn’t have to happen. I wish we could just hold each other, and this whole world would disappear. I want all of it to disappear…the Fatherland, the Fuhrer, all of it…I want to go back to the way things were.” Arvin caressed her back gently. “You and the rest of the world.” “Why? How? How could you have done all those things?” “I believed him too, Eva.” That wasn’t all of it, though. Yes, initially he did believe in the Fatherland, and the almighty Fuhrer that promised to restore Germany’s pride and purity. In the end, the murder, the torture, it possessed him. He found a darkness inside of him. This darkness enjoyed doing these things. It made him feel as though he were a God. He controlled the pain and suffering of so many. He could make their suffering end, or he could make it unbearable. What immense power he had. Killing innocent people, even the children, never bothered him. Even the time he ripped a Jewish woman’s infant son from her arms and broke the baby’s neck right in front of his mother…not even then did it bother him. He slept peacefully. It wasn’t until they were all caught, and the world they had created came crashing down around them, that he felt the repercussions. Even as he held his wife, and knew he would spend the rest of his life in hiding, he didn’t feel bad about what he had done. He was upset because he’d been caught. He knew this, and did not feel there was anything wrong with him, for it either. The truth is, for a short time in his life, he had the power to say whether people lived or died, and how it happened. He thought of these things he had done with a sense of accomplishment. He didn’t mind leaving his wife behind either. He could always find another, maybe a better one. People were expendable. He could only really count on himself. He had a few contacts that would help him out of town, but then he was on his own. Arvin found himself running through the woods. It was ironic to him. Those people he killed and tortured, some of them had done this very thing. They were trying to escape their fate, they were trying to hide from it. They weren’t successful, at least most of them weren’t. It made him wonder if his attempt was in vain. Was there a God? Was this God’s punishment? This made him wonder, and fear the possibility that there was also a hell, because this would be his destination. He knew that. Again, he wasn’t at all regretful of the things he had done, it was the fact he’d spend eternity suffering. A part of him believed he could even escape that. After a few hours of travel, he grew weary and decided to rest a bit. He sat down on a rock and pulled a canteen from his bag. The water was now lukewarm and made him queasy. He heard rustling behind him. Had they found him so quickly? They had bigger fish to fry, after all. “Please…do not be afraid, I am a friend.” Arvin heard a soft voice behind him. He pulled a dagger from a sheath he kept inside his boot. The voice laughed. “Oh please…put your little knife away. It is not necessary.” “Show yourself, then.” Arvin tightened his grip on the hilt. A woman appeared before him. She was the most beautiful woman Arvin had ever laid eyes upon. Her hair had all the colors of a sunset, and it even warmed the air around her. Her eyes were a soft shade of violet. There no imperfections in her face. Her lips were soft like rose petals. She was wearing a floral dress, and even had a cerulean hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear. Everything in her appearance was sheer perfection. Arvin could not even speak. The woman laughed, and the sound of her laughter was like listening to Beethoven. This was Arvin’s favorite composer. “I’m sorry if we got off to a bad start.” She moved closer to him. She didn’t even seem to have normal movement, she was like watching a swan. “I would like to help you, Arvin. I know who you are.” “How?” This was all he could say. “Does that really matter to you?” “I don’t know.” “What really matters to you right now, Arvin?” “Getting out of here to a safe place. Not being found.” “That’s what matters most to me, also.” “You can help me?” “Of course, I can.” She laughed again, playing the sweetest song he had ever heard. “Will you let me?” “What do I have to do, nothing is without it’s price.” She laughed again. “No, it isn’t. I will require a favor of you, but I have none to ask of you at this time.” “So, you will help me now, but I owe you later?” She laughed. “Does that sound fair?” This definitely did sound fair to Arvin. He could always deny it later on, if he were unable to deliver, or unwilling. He would’ve already gotten what he wanted out of it anyway. Women can never outsmart men. They don’t even understand how to make a decent bargain, one that leaves them with the advantage, anyway. This woman clearly lacked shrewdness. “I don’t know…” One rule, never accept eagerly. Always seem hesitant, especially at the first offer. “What would seem fair to you? I really want to help you.” “What might the favor be?” She laughed. “I do not need anything right now. I may need something later on, or I may not.” He was laughing inside. She may never even ask anything of him. This was too good to be true. “Yes, I will accept your offer.” “You please me.” “No, you are the one that pleases me.” She laughed again. “Alright then, it’s a deal.” The woman helped Arvin escape to America. She even gave him money to start a nice life. He ended up living in a Midwestern town, in a modest house with a decent job. It was low profile and perfect for someone in hiding. He changed his name. He called himself Alvin Lancaster. He even worked on shedding his German accent. He was somewhat successful. A hint of it still remained in his speech, but only the most skilled in phonetics would notice. No one ever asked, so he never divulged any information. He even found himself a wife. She was the daughter of department store manager. Her name was Alice. Everything was perfect. Everything had become so perfect, he forgot about the mysterious woman in the woods, and his debt to her. One night, Arvin sat outside, in his lush backyard, with his vibrant little garden and reflected on his peaceful new life. “How is everything, Arvin? Is it how you wanted it?” The voice was familiar. There she was again, only this time, she was wearing a pastel pink evening gown, speckled with sequins. Her wispy hair hung freely about her waist.  She wore diamond earrings, and light pink lipstick. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I didn’t think you would come back…” He took a sip of his beer. She laughed, that same beautiful laugh. “Of course I’m back. You owe me a favor. I have done well for you, Arvin. Look around, your lovely wife, this comfortable home, and most importantly your freedom. Don’t you think I should be paid for this?” “That was the deal. I just wasn’t sure if you would collect.” “Wouldn’t you? I did do some work here…do not forget that.” “I still don’t understand it, I didn’t then, and I certainly don’t now…” The woman sat beside Arvin in a patio chair. “Of course you do not understand. Would you like to? Is it important to you, now?” He shrugged. “I would like to know, I don’t know that it’s necessarily important.” “Very well, then. I suppose an explanation would help this situation along. I am the devil, Arvin.” Arvin laughed. “You can’t be, you’re beautiful! You’re a woman.” She laughed again. “Where does it say that the devil is not beautiful? You read too many fairy tales.” “Everything I’ve ever read says that the devil is not beautiful.” “Oh, really? What makes you think everything you have read is accurate? After all, everything you have read, or heard from other people that have read material pertaining to the devil, is written by man. Is it not?” “Who else would write it?” “Precisely, so why would you believe these things are fact?” She laughed. “You humans are so delightful. You believe that everything you have ever collectively thought of, everything that has been recorded, and anything you can ever imagine is the be all, end all. It is charming at times, and at others it’s dreadfully obnoxious.” “So you’re the devil?” “Yes.” “So the devil is a woman?” “No.” “You look like a woman.” “I am merely appearing to you in your perception of beauty. That is how I appear to any creature. Whatever they perceive to the most beautiful, that is how they will see me.” “So what do you actually look like?” “I don’t have a definitive form. I was not created that way. I was created to be the most beautiful, and that would all depend on the beholder.” “So, you are a man?” “I am neither.” “You must have a gender.” “Why? Because it’s necessary in order to be human? I am not human.” “No, you’re not, are you…well, then, what do you want, my soul?” The devil laughed. “No, it’s not worth it to me. Your soul is quite small, and pathetic, really. To give you an analogy that you would understand, you are the child that holds the magnifying glass over a helpless insect watching it burn from the sun’s rays. You think you have power over things just because you were placed in a situation by chance. You are a pitiful creature. Your soul is worthless.” “I don’t understand…you have a problem with what I have done?” “That really doesn’t matter. You are so insignificant to me, I don’t even feel to judge you or your actions. Do you judge that child with the magnifying glass? Or do you just turn and walk away? There is nothing about you that interests me, Arvin.” “Well, then why did you want to help me?” “I saw an opportunity.” “You lied to me…” “No, I did not. You didn’t ask me the right questions. In fact, I really don’t recall you asking me any questions. You did not hesitate to allow a stranger to assist you. You did not even care to know who that stranger was. Simply, because you did not care why you were being aided. You just wanted to save yourself. Well, I did that. Now, you must repay the favor.” “Alright. What do you want?” “I need a child. You will have a child with your wife, however it will be my seed.” “No…” “You can’t refuse. This is the favor.” “How do you know she is not pregnant, now? We have been trying to conceive.” The devil laughed. “Simple…you are sterile. I have seen to that.” “You can’t do that…I wanted a son of my blood.” “What did you want more, Arvin? Your freedom? Or a son? Those were your choices. At the time, you didn’t care to know who I was. You just wanted out. Well, you’re free now. Tonight, it will not actually be you copulating with your wife, it will be me. She will conceive tonight and bear my child. You will raise that child.” “What if I kill myself? Then you can’t do this…” “You won’t be able to…I will not allow that. You will do this, you have no choice. You did have a choice, Arvin. You made that choice already, and this is it.” Arvin’s wife did become pregnant. She gave birth to a son. Arvin was not even allowed to name the child, this was something the devil did. He named the child Caelic.

[shell313-blog]

Aila

Simple, useless human pity. Pity for myself, which is the absolute end to all foolishness. What a self centered being to feel only pity for oneself. As much torment and utter sadness one sees in one’s own life…there is always someone that has it far worse. How can I cry for myself??? I am a ridiculous, silly being…and I try to save the world? How cheesy, how cliché. How impossible. Aila found that the bus was very comfortable sometimes. She would just ride it, without a desired destination, she just wanted to ride. She would sit towards the back, if a seat were available and watch the world fly past her. When it stopped…that was her favorite. The bus would just slow down, and she could feel the temperature from outside on the window as she put her face nearer. The bus screamed as it came to a stop, as though the bus itself also enjoyed the ride. How beautiful things look from that high up. She’d watch people get on the bus, some of them struggling. No one would help, except for the driver, but that always seemed more out of obligation than anything else. If there were no seats available, she always gave up her own…she didn’t mind standing. Some demon… She’d watch the trees fly past the windows, and the houses, and the children, and the sky, and the leaves, and the mailboxes, and stop signs, and sidewalks, and clouds, and the people, all the people never noticing the big bus that passed by. All the animals, dogs, cats, birds of all colors, the shops, the towns, the cities, the landscapes, the country, the hills, the mountains, the color green, and none of it looked her in the eye that she pressed to that window. She felt invisible on the bus. She could see everything…nothing saw her. This is all she needed sometimes. She just wanted to be invisible. Her father would kill her the next time, surely he would. Sure, he’d stopped himself twice already. Sometimes she wondered how she could betray her father. He gave her life, as conflicted as she thought hers was, this is the being that gave her the so called “gift”. Not only did he give her the simple gift of life, which all parents give their children, he gave her a different gift. Her mother was very beautiful. She had pale, smooth skin that looked fresh and new. Her hair was red, a fiery auburn red that seemed to glow like the embers from a spent fire. Her eyes were brown, and in the dark looked like obsidian stones, reflecting all that was in her gaze. Her figure was perfect, everything of the right proportion and nothing being too big or too small. She was gorgeous. When Aila was a little girl, she did not think her mother was an average woman, she thought she was a goddess. Caelic, Aila’s father, made his wife wear long velvet dresses that clung to her shapely body. Her feet never made noise when she walked, instead her mother would glide everywhere. Her mother’s name was Eshne. Her father met her mother when she was very young, around sixteen or so and terribly rebellious. She would go along with anyone or anything, so long as it opposed her parents and any other authority figure. Of course, Aila’s young father appealed to her mother’s wild spirit. Caelic was also very pale, his hair was jet black, and his eyes were bright blue. He was a symbol of perfection. Aila inherited their pale skin, but took on the darker features of the two of them, inheriting the dark eyes of her mother, and the dark hair of her father. Aila’s hair was seemingly the jet black of her father, however in the light, one could see the fire and passion that made up her mother’s auburn locks. It was her hair that spoke for the rest of Aila. Her personality was dark and serious as was her father’s, however she had that streak of wildness that came from her mother. She was a combination of the two, inheriting her father’s strengths, and unfortunately for her, her mother’s weaknesses. Aila felt crippled by those weaknesses, attributing all of them to her human nature. She struggled with it. When Aila was seventeen, she had decided that she wanted to lead a normal human life. She would not give into these abnormal, demonic powers. It would not be easy. These powers and emotions that manifested from her demon side were overwhelming and very difficult to ignore. As one gets older, it becomes a constant voice that incessantly beckons. As much as Aila would convince herself that she was human and not this demon…the more the demonic side would try to convince how her humanity had been the anomaly. She was constantly at war with herself. Aila still loved her parents. Yes, her mother was still alive. She loved her father. She remembered the times that he walked with her, holding her hand, down the city streets. He’d stop at something to reminisce. There was a deli he used to stop at and tell Aila how his Earth father would buy him the penny candy in the shop that was there before this deli, if he was good. His father would allow him to choose his candy, giving him a huge bag to fill. “They went out of business…” he told her. “Now it’s a deli, and the food isn’t even that good.” Aila would smile at him. She heard the story many times before, but never minded that he repeated it. She liked hearing it. He would always laugh at himself, and then turn to his daughter. “How ‘bout some ice cream?” (Or hot chocolate if it was winter). She always said “yes”, even if she wasn’t in the mood for it. There were many times such as these that she could fondly remember. The times that her father could just be her father. The outside, “real” world just did not exist at those moments. They were alone, and this bond that they shared, that was the world. She loved her father then. Deep down, she knew who he was, but could not understand why he couldn’t be that. Why was he forced to be something else? As a little girl, she feared this because she knew that this would happen to her one day. She, also, would have to become someone else in order to survive. How she wished that they could just exist peacefully in that world. Even as she sat on the bus watching the world fly past her, she longed for her father, and that deli with the awful food, his pat on her back, and his nonchalant laughter. She’d have a cup of coffee with him, or whatever he wanted. This could not be though. Not anymore. Now, they were enemies. Did she really want to fight this war? Did she really believe that her father could be so wrong? Sometimes she wasn’t sure. This is why Broddock had not granted her entrance into Heaven as yet. She could not be fully trusted. Aila knew this, she knew it every time she heard Broddock calling to her. She could hear hesitation in his voice. She could hear something that resembled regret, and possibly desperation. He had no other choice. He needed Aila to do his bidding on Earth. Perhaps she did this because she couldn’t decide what side she was really on. Did she believe that humans had no place in heaven? Not really. Why shouldn’t they go? Could they destroy it? The bus came to a screeching halt as a dog ran across the quiet town street. Out the window, she saw a little house. The house had a bright red door, with a heart carved in the top center. There were bright little flowers all around the walkway. There were impatiens, mums, and other perennials scattered around. The walkway was made up of gray stones. The mailbox was a replica of the house itself, with every last detail carved in the wood. The mailbox even had a little red door, with the heart carving as the entrance to the box. The grass was perfect, not a dried out blade anywhere on the lawn. The dog, which survived the wheels of the bus, ran back to his home. He curled up in the grass and lay down, as though unaware his life had just been spared. Did humans really destroy the Earth? What was so awful about this? Why did they not deserve a place in Heaven? After all, the room of lost souls did not even resemble this…this Earth. It was the absence of all, it was nothingness. Why did they deserve that? Aila smiled at the dog, and then turned back to the bus. Someone decided to draw breasts on a doctor in an ad for health insurance that was pasted inside the bus. The words “Fuck you” almost wallpapered the bus. Aila thought back to Holden Caulfield, the character from The Catcher in the Rye. This had always been one of her favorite books. Holden hated this,  the phrase “Fuck you” written everywhere in public places. How right he was, rather Salinger, how right he had been when he put these words on paper. It was distasteful, it was rude, and it was offensive. Aila couldn’t believe she found it offensive, but she did, she actually did. How ignorant and inconsiderate people could be. Then, she started to think about Heaven, and their placement, and thought maybe the angels were right. Perhaps they didn’t belong. After all, one of these humans might write “fuck you” on one of their golden buildings, or draw breasts on something…she really didn’t know what they had there. She didn’t think they had advertisements for anything in Heaven, but the humans would find something to draw breasts on. That’s just how they humans are. They are…destructive. Her father once told her that human beings did these things because they could. Human beings feel so isolated and trapped into lives they do not want, situations they are not happy with, jobs that make them miserable, families that are abusive, etc; they are so trapped by these things, they lash out in strange ways just to feel some kind of freedom. Writing the phrase “fuck you” on a public bus, well this just might make them feel free for a moment. Yes, the end result is destructive, but freedom itself can end in such ways. Freedom, which means that there are no restraints, means that there is no guidance. Who’s to say what’s right and wrong? The criminal justice system is constantly undergoing changes, because the man made laws are so rigid, but the crimes themselves are relative. Not all of them fit into the perfect little recipe. Freedom, is it a good thing? Aila always thought about freedom, and what this meant. She thought of her father’s words and tried desperately to imagine a world that was not free. She thought of the middle east, and the countries there that oppressed their people. Maybe it would be like that, but she still couldn’t imagine it. Freedom…the freedom to destroy, the freedom to build, the freedom to love, the freedom to hate, the freedom to kill. Consequence…That’s what follows freedom. Consequence. God gave humans freedom. Humans did not do what he wanted them to do with it. No one really knows what God intended, but they do know that humans did not follow his plan. This is the consequence for not adhering to his plan. She looked at the sky, and the billowing clouds that allowed the rays of sunshine to pass through briefly. How is this justice? If what the humans did was so wrong, how is this punishment? How is this hell? Once again, she was conflicted. Once again, nothing made sense. Once again, everything was isolation. She was alone. The bus was filled with the sounds of idle conversations and brief fits of laughter. It made her angry. Why didn’t she have anything to make her laugh anymore? Why was there no one conversing with her? Why had her choices left her alone in the world? Why could no one understand that she did what she felt was necessary? She felt it deep down inside of herself, inside her soul, if one so desires to call it that. She wasn’t sure if she had a soul, anymore. She wasn’t sure of anything. She knew she felt a heavy burden pressing down on her chest, she knew she always had a lump in her throat. She wiped tears from her eyes. She couldn’t cry…not now….not here. She swallowed it so that her stomach burned and ached with the sorrow. Daddy…daddy, I’m sorry…I love you, daddy. She looked out the window again. Michael…who are you? Will you save Heaven? Is Heaven really in danger? She would have to find him, Broddock had requested this. He told her to find his son. It would not be easy, she didn’t have much to go on. She sat back on the hard, scratched molded plastic bus seat. Somewhere, somewhere in this silly little human existence, someone had a mold, and someone else had some plastic, and someone owned the plant that manufactured these horrid seats. It was here, that this broken little demon decided to take a break from the outside world. She could actually feel her vertebrae against the surface of the seat. This is an uncomfortable feeling, surely all human beings would concur. This is where Aila felt her weakness. If only could shed that humanity. If only she could be the demon, just for a moment. She would know who she really was. At least, she believed that she might. It was all her mother’s fault. Her weak, human mother. Her father actually has a Church, that he has created in honor of his father. Most of the people in his Church have it all twisted, and are just psychotic Satanists…they get their theology from LaVey or Crowley. For one thing, that makes all of that terribly wrong, is that her grandfather’s name is not Satan and never was. In fact, according to her father, who has had conversations with him, he hates that name. His name is not Beelzebub. Lucifer was his angel name, he hates that as well. The way African Americans feel about their slave names, the way Kunta Kinte felt about the name Toby, this is how her grandfather feels about the name Lucifer. It is a name of negative connotations, marking the time that her grandfather was subservient to a being of less than epic proportions. This being, that he was forced to serve for so long, well, he was no more than a child that had been given a new chemistry set for his birthday. God stumbled upon his own gifts slowly, and realized over time that he could actually create. He didn’t know why he’d been given this power, or who had given it to him…but he had it, and he would use it. Heaven always existed. Heaven was there before God. Or so God told all the angels. No one can really know what had actually been there before their creation. This is what they have been told. Let’s not get that fact misconstrued. His first order of business was to create a companion for himself. This would be tricky. God did not know what he looked like, since there was yet anything to look upon him. All he knew were his surroundings, and the love and respect he’d grown for this land…Heaven. He’d grown a certain love and admiration for the skies…yes these are visible from Heaven. After all, all these universes belong to the same skies, always remember that much. God didn’t know the word or the concept of companionship. He did not realize the concept of conversation, or of love…he just knew something was missing. He had learned that he could create things. He learned this one day by looking up at the sky, and realizing that sky needed more…it was nothingness, speckled with stars. He looked at the sky, and envisioned something basic, he created what the humans now call the Sun. He really just created a giant star, since this is all he had seen in the sky. As he created the other planets, he got a bit more creative, and used things from his own Heaven to create them. The moon Europa, which circles Jupiter, is perhaps one of the closest to Heaven, with the exception of the Earth of course. That’s already been discussed however. God would lie on his back, and admire these planets. He could see them all from Heaven, it has a perfect view of everything. Still, something was missing. He needed…more. He lay back one day, and closed his eyes. He searched himself…what was it he needed? That’s the day he created his beloved Lucifer. Lucifer appeared before God. This was the first angel ever created. God did not put much thought into this creation, rather he put his passions and desires into him. The devil’s love of free-will can be credited to his very creation. He was created to fulfill desire. The desire for companionship. Lucifer is the most beautiful creature that has ever existed, to this very day. He does not have a definitive shape, rather he will conform to his beholder’s perception of beauty. Yes, this means that Lucifer was created as an androgynous being. God is an androgynous being. Referring to them as male, makes it easier for a storyteller. God admired this beautiful creature. He allowed his Lucifer to do as he pleased in Heaven, and kept him very close to his heart. He created more angels after that, none so beautiful as his Lucifer, and none so powerful. He had created the angels to serve him and his Lucifer. This was until he created the vile little humans. Lucifer began to irritate God. He started to complain about Heaven, and about the blandness of it. He was tired of seeing only perfection. Lucifer had this vision of weakness, this was unheard of to God and the angels. He had a vision of imperfection. God did not like this idea. Lucifer became unsatisfied and locked into his mind and his visions. God could no longer relate to him, and thus he also retreated into his own isolation. He did not believe such imperfection could exist, or that he could create it. This is when created the humans. He started to wonder if Lucifer had been right about perfection. Lucifer spoke of balance, and how the universe was unbalanced since God had only created perfection. This was a radical idea to him, but it was true that things did seem off. So what if he were to create a being that was not perfect. What if he created a flawed being. He put them in their own world, that way if they were to create chaos, it would be away from Heaven. God did not know what would happen if Heaven were destroyed, in fact, none of the angels know what would happen. For all they know, Heaven could be the core of it all. After all, this is where God himself awoke. God himself did all of his creating and experimenting from Heaven. So he created these humans, with no planned out design. His mind and soul were filled with the utmost curiosity and emptiness. This was then mixed with God’s overwhelming arrogance, for he knew that he would prove his beloved Lucifer wrong. The nature of all of his creations take on the emotions he had while creating them. Thus, human beings are arrogant, curious and empty. They always want, but are never full. They believe that they are the most important beings in the universe, in fact they believe there are no others, despite irrefutable evidence that there are. Lucifer and God argued after this. Lucifer argued that these humans were controlled by God, if he were to constantly have supervision over them. God conversed with Adam. He loved Adam, and protected him. God argued that his creation had free-will. Lucifer wanted to prove to God just how flawed that creation was. Well…the rest of the story is known from there. As God’s name is unknown, so is Lucifer’s. The devil will make things easier for storytelling purposes. That is the story of God and the devil, the one that Aila’s father had told her. The creation of Caelic, well, that’s a completely different story of its own.

[shell313-blog]

Mike and Aila

The seats seemed to have absorbed years of flatulence and sweat. White hairs from the filling had sprouted through the torn red faux leather. Springs stuck out on the seats themselves, making them extremely uncomfortable. The table was sticky, suggesting they were cleaned over and over with the same damp rag. Hanging behind his mysterious dinner date, was an oil painting of the diner in it’s glory. It was a traditional fifties style diner. Bright pink neon lights hummed it’s name. Shiny, new motorcycles were parked in front, next to a ‘55 red Cadillac. The sky was speckled with stars, the moon was full and promising. What a happy time that must have been. The diner looked nothing like that now. It would probably never look that again, either.  The waitress slowly made her way to their table. She was an older woman. Judging her age was a difficult task. She looked weather beaten rather than just old. Her face was drawn, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Her hair was burnt out like straw that had been stuffed into her skull. Fiery red straw. She wore heavy makeup, and her lipstick was that coral color that you will always find in the clearance bin. She had acrylic nails that were growing a fungus, suggesting the woman could not afford the biweekly maintenance. It had probably been months since she’d had them redone. That same bright coral was also the color of those nails. Her uniform was turquoise and loud. A small nametag, that read “Sue” was pinned above her left breast. The nametag was so dirty it appeared that they all just shared the same one. Everyone could be Sue for their shift. She was a stock waitress that came with the place and grew old and tired with it. “What can I get for you?” She croaked. “I’ll just have water,” Mike said. The girl looked at him. “I’ll have two cheeseburgers with fries and two cokes.” She wrote it down and walked away, pulling their menus out from under them. “Two? Wow…where do you put it?” “One’s for you. You look hungry. I told you, my treat. Don‘t insult me by ordering water.” He blushed.   “Are you going to tell me who you are?” “Don’t you want to know who you are?” “I’m pretty sure I know who I am.” “Keep telling yourself that.” “So you’re going to tell me?” The cokes were placed in front of them, followed by straws. “Anything else?” “No thank you,” she said. “Let me start with this. Don’t you wonder why you’re all alone? Don’t you ever wonder why people are not your top priority?” “Because most people are scumbags.” She took a sip of her coke. “Interesting…but not quite. You’re not like them, Mike.” “Yeah…I’ll say.” “You couldn’t be like them if you tried. There is a reason for it. I went through the same thing. You’re not human.” He laughed. “That’s funny.” “Your father isn’t dead.” He clenched his fists. “This is not funny…shut up right now. I don’t know who the fuck you are, or what you think you’re doing, but you are not funny.” “I’m not trying to be, Mike. Your father is not dead.” “Oh yeah? Well where did he go then? Why did he leave my mother to get addicted to fucking smack and waste her life away? Why did he leave me to be raised by a drug addicted whore in the ghetto?” “He had to go back.” “Go back where?” She sighed. “Mike, you have to trust me, first. I can’t have you walking out on this. I need you to believe me.” “I don’t even know you.” “I saw you looking at that painting. You like it?” “What does that have to do with anything?” She closed her eyes. Mike’s confusion soon turned into amazement. The diner was brand new again. The seats were shiny red leather. The table was white pearl, polished and shiny. He looked out the window and saw the motorcycles, the Cadillac and the illuminating moon. “How did you do that?” She closed them again, and everything was back to the way it was, dull and dingy. “How is not what is important right now. The point is, it was done. Abandon all you thought you knew before we met. Listen to me for right now, and please believe what I tell you.” “Why?” “We need you, Mike. But first I must tell you who you are. Your father is an angel named Broddock. He is half angel and half human. His father fell in love with a human one day. Your father is the first of his kind. The first of our kind. His father was banished from heaven, to live on earth with his human wife and child. Your father was that child. As punishment, the angels closed your grandmother’s womb and she could no longer have children. In fact, any mortal woman that bears that seed of an angel will no longer become pregnant afterwards.” “So my grandparents are still alive?” “Not your grandmother. But yes, your grandfather is still alive. Angels can’t die.” “What about us?” “Since we are still human, yes. Our life expectancy is longer than an average human, but yes our bodies die. Anyway, your father grew up with the knowledge that he was human, his father being bitter and harboring resentment against the angels. Your father always knew he was different, but didn’t realize how different he actually was. When you were a little boy, an angel came to him and told him the truth. He was then told he needed to come home and set things right. You see, the same angel that banished your grandfather was still in control at the time. That angel hated humans. It all goes way back to Lucifer.” “The devil?” “Yes. See, he loved humans. He thought they were innocent creatures. He enjoyed watching them, and seeing how they would use free will. He became obsessed with free will and started tempting the humans. Some believed he was jealous of them, since they were given life…just life, nothing more. They were never expected to work, or to carry any weight. They were just given life, and told to enjoy it. He introduced corruption and evil. Soon, the humans no longer looked to the heavens. The angels were angry.” “Why?” “Angels feed on admiration. Lucifer taught them to be ungrateful. Lucifer enticed the humans with promises of having all the knowledge that existed. They could never realize it would damn them forever, and this paradise, this Utopia that they existed in would be taken away. They would spend their lives working and never really enjoying the fruits of that labor. No one is sure whether Lucifer did this to damn the humans, or get back at God. No one is sure if he actually hates them, loves them or is intrigued by them. What is known, however, is that the angels do hate the humans. ” “That doesn’t really make any sense…why would they hate the humans? It wasn’t their fault.” “Yes, it was. Completely. Remember? Free will. When humans are given the choice, they don’t usually make the correct ones.” “I don’t believe that.” “It’s true. Humans are self serving. Human beings are greedy and always looking for more. They are never full. Humans are bottomless. Well, Lucifer introduced them to this, ruining God’s creation. God’s vengeance was felt most heavily by the angels. They blamed the humans. Over time, some of the angels found love for the humans, and wanted them back in. To actually fall in love with one of them was forbidden, however. These angels, that had the misfortune of falling in love with the humans were exiled.” Mike thought of this, and a conversation he’d had with an old friend once. His name was Al. “What do you mean by ‘back in‘?” “Humans are not allowed in heaven. They are sent to the Room of Lost souls, where they would wander in nothingness for eternity, unless they could transcend their beastly forms.” “What does that mean?” “They have to reach a higher level of spirituality before they are allowed into heaven.” “So people don’t go to heaven when they die?” “No. So far, no one has reached that level.” “They are all wandering in this mist?” “Yes.” “So how does this affect the angels more than the humans?” “If there is nothing lower in heaven, who is there to admire them?” “Sounds like they are pretty selfish and egotistical.” “They enjoy conversation. Especially conversation that involves beings lower than themselves. Innocent and untouched beings, that they can feed with their spirituality. Think about it, if you don’t have a body, what needs would need to be satisfied? You don’t have hunger, you don’t have sexual desire, you don’t experience pain. Your needs are on a different level entirely.” “Again…how is this the fault of humanity?” “They are unable to see the error of their ways, even when it’s thrown in their faces. Besides, that is not the way they feel now. They know things have to change. Your father was summoned and is now in control. He asked me to find you.” “Why didn’t he get me sooner?” “He couldn’t take you that young. He had to wait until you were an adult.” “I still don’t understand how he could do that to us.” “Because…the fate of humanity was at stake.” “Fuck humanity. I grew up without a father and a mother. I grew up alone.” The girl sighed deeply. “Well…Mike, I had parents and I still grew up alone.” “Then that’s your fault.” “Is it?” She asked. She didn’t seem offended by him at all. She was so Zen, so confident and secure. Just looking at her, her unchanging face, her unfaltering emotions put Mike at ease. “Listen…I understand that you’re angry, I’ve been there. If I were to tell you about me, I don’t know that you would believe it.” “I would like to hear about you…starting with your name.” “That is not important right now.” She took a sip of her coke. She smelled their food getting closer. “Besides, the food is on the way.” Mike looked up. “Where is it? I don’t see the waitress.” “She’s coming. You eat, you really need a good meal. Your father has been really worried about you.” He looked out the window. “I find that impossible to believe.” Their plates were set down in front of them. Mike looked at the girl, and smiled. “Can I get something else for ya?” The girl looked at Mike, he shook his head. “No…thank you, Sue.” The waitress smiled at her and walked away. Mike was in awe of the girl…and he was starting to understand the whole romance thing. For the first time in his life, he was feeling a softness inside of him. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was a softness that seemed to ease the aching and longing that he’d felt for as long as he could remember. This girl, whoever she was, put a name on everything. He only knew darkness, and voids of light. Now…she was throwing open the curtains, and smashing the windows that kept him locked away from himself. Then…he saw the blood. The blood that ran in a wild torrent down the blade of sword, the blood he would never get off his hands. The blood of many. No…she would never understand, she could never want that. He picked up the burger. The weight and warmth of it made him drool. It had been so long… “While, you’re eating, I hope you don’t mind if I inform you on the whole state of things…you will not say much right now…that much I can be sure of.” She pushed the second burger across the table. “I’m a vegetarian. Bon appetit.” He smiled, his mouth full of food. “Alright, let’s start with who you are. I told you about your father, but this does not explain you. You have this darkness inside of you. You feel it is darkness only because it does not align with the human way of thinking, or their way of living. You do have a purpose Mike. You have always known this. You are the key to saving heaven and the humans. You are Michael the archangel.” He laughed, his food shooting from his mouth onto the plate. “You’re kidding, right?” Her face was stone. “You’re not kidding. So that means you’re crazy.” She put her hand on his. He looked into her eyes. “I’m not either. Michael, you are him. We need you.” “Why can’t you save everyone? I can’t even do the things you can.” “My powers are of a different nature. Don’t you worry about me or them.” “Listen to me…I need to know who you are now…starting with your name and ending with why the fuck you are here.” “Alright. Fine, I will tell you who I am. Please, do not be afraid.” “I’m Michael the archangel, what can I possibly have to fear?” He chuckled. “My grandfather is the devil.” She had no expression. “Then why are you here? You’re supposed to hate me, you’re supposed to want to do battle with me, right?” “Yes, those are the things I am supposed to do, and why I was born. I just don’t feel it in my heart. Since I was child, I could do things that just were not right. I can control it now, but not then. When I was four years old I was in nursery school and we were playing in the classroom. There was this open space in front of the windows where all the toys were, and a big circular carpet that we would all sit on, playing with our toy of choice. Well, that particular day, I had chosen the Lincoln Logs. I scurried off with the box, and took a seat on the moss green shag carpet. Well, one of the children also wanted the Lincoln Logs. They didn’t want to play with me, I was the weird girl. So this child came up to me, slapped me in the face and snatched the box, laughing the whole time. Immediately, I felt anger rising in me, hot bubbling rage just rising and boiling.” She looked down at the table. “The child went up in flames. The box went up as well. She died in intensive care that night from severe burns. No one had seen the child take the box from me, so the cause of death was unknown, and spontaneous human combustion was speculated. No one ever knew…no one that is, except for my parents. They knew. They created me. At that point, I knew that I was an evil monster. So I stayed away from people all together. Killing that child was unintentional, or so I believed at the time. I couldn’t risk something happening later on, and I could not be responsible for someone else’s death. So I stayed to myself, and read a lot of books. My father became angry with me. What happened that day in that classroom was my destiny. I could control these humans, and their world. How could I not embrace such a gift? He could never understand. I don’t think he ever will, either. He is bent on him and my grandfather winning this.” “What are they fighting over.?” “Heaven. In their realm, heaven is prime real estate, so to speak. The devil wants it, the angels want to keep it, the humans even want it, well, they think they think they already have it…heaven is the ultimate place to be, it is utopia. There is no pain and suffering in heaven. Originally, heaven was akin to our birthplace and intended home, the garden of Eden. In the garden, we didn’t know pain or suffering. We didn’t have to labor for food, and we didn’t have any other needs. Well…you know how that went. When one looks at everything…it is a bit confusing, so I will try to explain the best that I can. Right now, where you are sitting, exists in many multi verses. There is a universe where you are sitting there eating a tuna fish sandwich, and I ordered a coffee. There is one where it rains outside, and we each drink something warm, and are too wet and uncomfortable to eat. All the choices we could’ve made, or even considered for a moment are all existing right now somewhere else. From these choices, different events will follow. These possibilities and universes are infinite. They exist though, and they are all a part of one large universe.” “So let me get this straight, I am just a tiny speck in the universe?” “Sort of.” “Talk about being shit.” “No, every part is very important and necessary. Anyway, heaven runs parallel to all of these coexisting universes. From heaven, you can see everything, it’s the best seat in the house.” “Where is God, while all of this is going on?” “No one knows anymore. I’m pretty sure some of the angels have an idea, but they’re not saying anything. Your father doesn’t know anymore than I do.” “So, let me get this straight…the Bible is real? I mean, the stories in the Bible are real?” She smiled. “Some of them.” “Which ones aren’t true?” He asked, looking at her intently. “Well, let me see…a lot of the stories about Jesus are not really true. From the human perspective, however, I’m sure that’s what they thought.” “So, Jesus was real??” “Yes, but that isn’t really his name.” “What is his name?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know…no one is allowed to speak it. Just as we are not allowed to speak the true name of God. Even the angels may not speak either name.” “So, God and Jesus are not their names.” “No…but it’s easier to just call them by those names I guess. It’s like calling a loved one honey, or darling…sort of, it’s difficult to explain. When you look at something that is so above you, something that encompasses infinity, what arrogance to believe that you can label that---us! On this level, so beneath the creator of all, and the son of the creator of all…oh…that’s another thing….” Mike leaned forward. The waitress came over. “Can I get you something else?” “I’ll have coffee. Michael?” “The same,” he said, annoyed by the disruption. The waitress seemed a little irritated by their presence. She would have to baby sit them for another hour.  “So…what’s the other thing?” he asked. “God had a daughter, too…he also has a wife. The Bible had that part all wrong.” “Why would they leave that out? Seems important to me.” “And you’re right, Michael, it is important, extremely so.” She took a deep breath. “Simple answer, that is the result of a self-righteous misogynistic society.” “Should’ve guessed that one myself.” “All history is slanted and is the result of someone’s perspective of it. Take the history of the United States of America. It would be really nice to believe that the pilgrims came here, fleeing religious persecution and sat down to this marvelous feast with the Native Americans and everyone was happy. What they don’t want to talk about all the time, is the fact that early Europeans came here carrying diseases, and the Native Americans did not view them as friends, rather quite the opposite. They were viewed as devils. Many Native Americans felt this was prophesized. The end of their way of life, and the shackles of a forced one. People would rather believe the Europeans gave them a better religion, a better way of life and were saviors. We both know this is not the case. The Bible, and the Judeo-Christian theology is not different. It was written and told by a certain perspective, so that is the story that you will get.“ Their coffee had been set down in front of them somewhere in the middle of her discourse…Mike hadn’t even noticed. “Aren’t you going to drink your coffee?” “Oh…yes…” He picked up the carafe and started pouring the coffee into his cup. “I’m sorry…it’s just that, finally. All these years just wondering and all the questions, you’re answering them all…I never thought this could happen. I was beginning to believe there were no answers. There was nothing out there….this was it. I was just a bum, destined to spend my life sleeping on the street, and hunting for food in the trash cans and dumpsters behind the restaurants. Life for me…that was always a joke.” “Yes, Michael, I know…I had to run away at an early age. My benefit though, was these powers. These deceptive powers.” “Why is it that you can do these things?” “I am not really part angel as you are. My father was a demon. Demons are more deceptive, they manipulate the human world. They work within the human means to attain their goals…the angels on the other hand, don’t care if the humans are deceived or not. It does not affect them, and they are not interested in them. I’m sure you can see that…you have never cared much for humans your whole life. That’s the angel in you.” “I always thought angels were supposed to care, what about your guardian angel?” “Yeah, I really don’t know where that came from, but they laugh about it all the time. There is no such thing. The angels would never waste their time to protect one human being. They see them as the beasts that God created to replace them. Now, they are the beings that drove their God to distress, he was forced to take leave of them all. This was all the humans fault. They are ungrateful, ignorant, foolish beings that do not deserve life. They do not believe their lives are important. They constantly question why they are here, never believing that someone just wanted them simply be alive. They believe they are so great, they have some greater purpose and meaning. They are arrogant beings.” “Sounds like you hate humans yourself.” “No, I don’t. I just see both sides. I can’t hate them. Demons don’t hate the humans, it’s the opposite. They love them. They are fascinated by the creatures that defy God. They see them as bold, confident, brazen creatures that simply will not accept that they were put here just to be alive. Something in their nature causes them to be on guard all the time, it causes paranoia. They will not be fooled, so they question everything. What kind of sense does it make for someone just to create them to live? That is an unbelievable explanation for all of them, regardless of time, place, age, religion , race or gender. This explanation is lacking in scope. The demons are amused by these creatures. That is what this war is about.” Michael looked up from his coffee. “Satan wants heaven so he can finally let the humans in.” “Well…that’s good isn’t it?” “Haven’t you heard a word I said? The humans will destroy heaven, just as they have destroyed the garden of Eden, paradise. They will destroy the one paradise that is left. Satan would love nothing more. He would rather see it destroyed, than see the angels prosper in it, not after all that has happened.” “So, let me get this straight, I’m supposed to fight beings that want humans to get into heaven? What has it all been about? All these years? Why shouldn’t humans go there? They spend their lives….where is my mother?” “The room of lost souls…and there she will remain.” “I don’t like any of this. Please…stop.” “Maybe that is enough for today, Mike. We have a lot to do tomorrow. Come on.” She stood up, and looked at the check. She pulled money out of her wallet and threw it down on the table. “Where are we going?” “My place, you need to get some rest. Unless you want to go back to the alley…” “No…your place will be fine. It’s indoors, right?” “Of course it is.”

[shell313-blog]

Mike

A modern day fairy tale? Reality is not a fairy tale, they simply do not exist. This tale is darkness, it is cold. These beings are sheer insanity integrated with wickedness. To the human beings, they represent the goodness of heaven. Human beings cannot comprehend Heaven. It is not in their nature to understand it. As it is not in the nature to understand God. Satan? He too contradicts their fears and overall knowledge of him. Me? I'm an angel. I oversee the actions and misconduct of my peers. My job is to make sure the human world remains balanced. Me? I am the watcher. My name is Broddock. Time does not exist for us. Not the way the humans understand it. Time is their way of measuring their world, as their curious little nature must measure everything. For some reason, they need to organize things and break them down into smaller pieces. You won't find my name in your Bible. This particular tale begins with some punk kid named Mike... "Dude, you would never kill anyone. You're such a pussy." Mike scowled at his friend Tarrin and snatched the blunt from his hand. "Don't fucking test me Tarr...I'm feeling crazy right now." He sucked on the soggy cigar paper, and inhaled the pungent smoke. "Anyway, I'd do something really insane that would make sure no one would ever forget." "Oh yeah, think you can top Charles Manson?" Tarrin asked, watching Mike exhale. "He just wanted to get laid. I can definitely think of something better." Mike handed him the blunt. "Maybe you need it more, ya know, for inspiration...dumbass." Tarrin took the blunt, now almost finished. "Speaking of which, this shit is almost out. I'm not even high." Tarrin moaned. "I can't smoke these tiny ass roaches." " I can," Mike said, proudly. "Yeah, well I'm not a fiend. Shit, you sold your car for an ounce. Crack head." "I didn't need that piece anyway." He stood up and kicked a beer can across the alley. "Don't need a home, don't need a woman." Tarrin smiled. "I can't live without my bitches." "That's why you're pathetic, thinking with that worm in your pants." "Oh, you mean my tremendous python?" "More like a caterpillar." "That's not what you were saying last night." Mike kicked him in the stomach and laughed as Tarrin doubled over in pain. "Now...what were you saying?" Tarrin rose to his feet and met with the shiny blade of a samurai sword. "Woah! Dude! Where'd you get that?" Mike turned and tore through the air with his weapon, slicing an imaginary adversary. "My father.." He slid the sword in it's sheath which he kept on his back underneath his long black trench coat. "Your father gave you that?" "Yeah, before he died. His last words were, 'avenge my death son'." "Really?" "Dumbass, I stole it," he answered, leaning up against the wall. "Sounds like you. I'm just surprised you never sold it for buds." “I'd never give up my sword. It's gotten me out of a lot of jams." Tarrin pulled his cellphone from his puffy down jacket. "Shit, it's eleven o'clock. My bitch will have a fit." "Better get home and play house." "Yeah, I'll see ya around, bro." Tarrin turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Mike alone with his samurai sword and his thoughts. His sword. He saw it in a weapon shop when he was sixteen. He had a part time job sweeping the floor of a butcher's shop. It smelled, it was dirty and all he did was sweat, but he received a paycheck at the end of the week and that's all that really mattered. He did it to help his mother. Mike's father died when he was a baby. He didn't remember him. All he knew of his father was told to him by his mother. From what she said, his father was in a lot of debt and all he left her was unpaid bills. Mike never really believed this. His mother blew through all of his father’s money, that scenario was more likely. His mother lost her mind and started using drugs just to cope. She was able to handle herself for a little while. She was stunningly gorgeous and used that to snake through life. After a few years, the drugs just drained all her vitality and she could no longer use her looks to get her by. Mike had seen pictures of their house in the suburbs. It was beautiful and he couldn't imagine having lived there when he would look out the window of their apartment. They lived on the fifth floor of an old building that probably never saw any good days. It was in the forgotten side of town, the one that people just avoided. Anyone that was unfortunate to find themselves there, never made it too long. His mother and him were considered veterans in the neighborhood. He religiously handed his paychecks over to his mother, even after he learned they were supporting her habit. Mike often wondered if he wanted her to just die. The more money he gave her, the more drugs she could buy with it. Eventually, the poison she shot into her veins would have to kill her, and he would finally be free. He wondered, but knew that couldn’t be it. Perhaps it was out of obligation, or simply there was nothing else to do. The sword gleamed under rose colored lights. He'd never had an interest in weapons, but this sword struck something inside of him. It felt as though it were a part of him, and as though it had been searching for him. He didn't bother going into the store and asking how much it was. Even if it was fifty cents, he couldn't afford it. So he went home to plan the heist. He would take nothing else, only the sword. He would tell no one about it. It wasn't really much of a plan. An elaborate scheme wasn't at all necessary, though. It would take the cops at least ten minutes to get there. Cops never came to that side of town. Like everyone else, they avoided it. All he needed was a few seconds anyway, just to smash the window and claim his prize. He waited until it was dark. He walked down to the weapon shop, thinking of nothing else but that sword. The shiny steel with the jade handle. The small dragon engraved under the handle. He thought of the design, the flames that were etched into the steel. He later learned, this was for the blood to run down. It was as easy as he'd planned. With a brick he smashed the window and grabbed the sword. He ran. He kept running until he reached his building. At that point, he heard the sirens, off in the distance on their way to the weapon shop. He smiled. It was too easy. He'd never stolen anything before. So, naturally, he felt guilty about his sword. He kept it hidden in his closet until the day he left. He came home from school one day to find his dead mother, the needle on the floor by her lifeless body. He was a senior in high school and had just turned eighteen. He had no other family. He grabbed his sword, nothing else, and left. He didn't cry for his mother. To him, her passing was a relief. She wasn't good for anything or anyone. She just couldn't accept the responsibilities of raising a child on her own and could not survive without his father. She was weak and useless. He was never sure if he really loved her or just pitied her. But she was gone and it was time to move on. He was twenty years old. The two years prior were spent sleeping in abandoned buildings, stealing scraps of food, and hitching rides all over the country. Do something with his life? He was just trying to survive. He had ended up in Florida. He stayed here the longest. It was warm, even in the winter, so he could survive being homeless without the fear of freezing to death. He'd met Tarrin a few weeks earlier. He made up stories about himself. He told Tarrin he lived in an apartment complex in Fort Lauderdale. He told him he waited tables. The truth was, Mike didn't have a job, or a home. It didn't matter much anyway. Tarrin was so wrapped up in his woman, he didn't really pay attention to anything else. For Mike, it was just really nice to have someone to talk to. 

Mike had just left the dirty city that he had grown up in. He found himself roaming the streets of West Virginia in an attempt to get as far away as possible until he found some tropical weather. If he were going to be homeless, he needed a warm sidewalk to sleep on. His mother chose the summertime to take that lethal dose, which was lucky for him. "Hey kid, you shouldn't be out here..." Mike looked up from the bench he had found to rest on. It was a bus stop. An elderly man stood over him, covered in dirt. He was missing most of his teeth and he had wild hair. Most of his hair was actually gone as well once Mike took a closer look. A few tiny strands danced in the cool breeze. Mike wondered if he would someday be this old man. "Yeah? And why is that?" The man took a seat next to him on the bench. "It's dangerous is all." "That's okay, I think I can handle myself." Mike looked down at his shoes. They were filthy. At one time they were a bright white. He'd spent a month just walking, and walking and never really getting anywhere. His shoes suggested otherwise though. He looked over at the old man's shoes. They were construction boots that had become worn and tattered with age. They didn't have any holes in them. Mike had gotten one in his left shoe. The sole came loose. He slid his foot back under the bench. "Where ya goin kid?" "Going? I'm not going anywhere." The man looked behind him at the sign for the bus stop. "Must be goin somwheres." "Oh, my friends are meeting me here." The old man leaned back on the bench. "I see...at two o'clock in the morning?" "Yes, they work nights." The old man pulled a pint of Jim Beam out of his jacket and took a swig. He held the bottle towards Mike. "No, thank you." After all, he thought it best not to accept liquor from a stranger. He could really use a drink though. "Come on, kid. You look like you could use it. I didn't poison it or anything. Well...it is poison I guess you could say. The sweetest poison ever invented." Mike hesitantly reached for the bottle and took a sip. "Awww, come on. I know you want more than a baby sip." Mike held the bottle tightly, so tight his knuckles turned white and chugged. "Woah, save some for me." The old man laughed and took back the bottle. "How'd you end up here?" "I just told you..." "Kid, cut the bullshit already. Look, I know you're not waiting for any friends. First of all, I can tell you ain't from here." Mike looked down at his clothes. "An' I can tell you ain't had a shower. How long you been wearing those clothes?" "I dunno..." "Yeah, see. Prolly don't even know what day it is. Welcome to my world." He took another swig of his whiskey. "Well, you may know more than me, I'm sure you ain't had nothin' to drink." "No, I haven't." "Yer gonna need a better line. You just can't tell people you're waiting for friends. We all have to face the facts one day, kid. We're dirty, we smell and we're homeless. You can't git away from it." "It's only temporary." The old man laughed. "Heard that one, too. Said that before. I been homeless for like, ten years now. After my wife died. Sweet Marie. She just couldn't accept the fact she got old." "So, what happened?" He held up the bottle of Jim Beam. "She couldn't get old, and I couldn't get old without her." "I'm never falling in love." The old man laughed again. "You say that now, kid. Just wait. One day you will see that you have no choice. You don't get to make that decision. Love will find you." Mike rolled his eyes. "Not if I have anything to do about it. It killed my mother." "She shoulda been lovin you." "Yeah...well..." "Hey, kid what's your name anyway? I hate ta keep callin' ya kid. " "Mark." He still didn't trust the old man. He didn't know why he was talking to him. He must've been up to something. "My name is Ted. Ya got any money?" "Nope. I'd be on the bus if I did." "Got anything to sell?" "Nope. Just the clothes on my back, and they aren't worth much." The old man threw the empty bottle across the street. There was a gas station across from the bus stop. It was open, but there weren't any customers. It was a small town and people were already in bed. Mike had more fear in a place like that, than he did back home. At least there was life in the dark. Here, everything just went to sleep. So it really made you question the things that stayed awake... Ted put his arm around Mike. "Hey, listen...see that gas station?" Mike nodded. "The guy in there is a real pussy. We could rob that fucker and get some more whiskey. If you want..." Mike knew there was something in it. The man was crazy though, he had no choice but to play along. He knew he'd run into these kinds of people when he stepped outside his building and made the choice to run away. He was prepared for this. "How about we split it, fifty fifty..." Mike suggested. "Deal, kid. After all you're gonna be the muscle." Mike wanted to laugh. That was the first time in his life anyone ever said such a thing to him. He was skinny, but certainly not very muscular. He had an average body. He was strong, but you couldn't exactly call him the muscle. Mike appreciated his game, though, as old as it was. He tried to get Mike to trust him first, and when Mike pretended to trust him, he made him a partner and used flattery. He had given him a sip of whiskey and then once it was finished, tried to use it as a reason to rob the gas station. It would've been well played for any other kid Mike's age. He was only eighteen. He should've still been in high school. Mike grew up without a mother, and in the worst city in the country. He knew better. Part of him enjoyed the game, and he would just play along. Mike had never killed anyone. He came close once. A man broke into his apartment. He was looking for Mike's mother, who knew, of course that he was looking for her. Apparently she owed him money for her last fix. She didn't think to make sure her son was out of harm's way. When did she think of her son, though? Mike was in his bedroom when he heard the heavy footsteps in the hallway. A man's voice was calling his mother's name. He ran and hid in the closet, his hand on his sword. The man came into his room and started pawing through his things. Probably looking to see if he could find something worth some money. Mike had to laugh at this. If they had something worth anything, they would not be living there. Flashes of him running out of the closet and slashing the bastard kept playing in his mind. His body was shaking and sweat was pouring down his face. He then feared that the sword would slip from his clammy hands. Mike lost his nerve. He grabbed a baseball bat and hit him on the back of the head. He didn't kill him. He called the police from a neighbor's phone. It was at that moment, that Mike learned in order to be a man you must not have fear. The true test of one's manhood is to be able to act without thinking. In a split second, a man must be able to let go of all inhibitions. Everything has to disappear in an instant. Consequences, religious beliefs and all morals ingrained in one's mind. "'K...here's what we gotta do. We walk in there an' grab the money." Mike waited for the rest. Silence seemed to suggest there was no more. "Ummm...that's it?" "What else does there need to be? This ain't Hollywood." "True. But don't we have to scare him?" "We're homeless. Most of us are a few cards short of deck. That's what people think anyway." Mike leaned back on the bench. "Excellent point, but not at all practical." "Yer prolly right. I ain't never done this before." "I haven't either." "How do you get food?" The old man asked. Mike gave him a most pathetic expression. "Like that," he answered. "Easy for you kids." Mike sighed. "If you say so." "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that unless I tell people I was in 'nam, they won't even spare a nickel." "People are selfish." Maybe it was the fact that he smelled like whiskey and people knew what he would spend the money on. "You can say that again. So you think we need a better plan, Mark?" "Yeah...we need to scare him, ya know threaten his life." The old man pulled a box cutter from his pocket. Mike suddenly felt uneasy. "Will this do?" "I dunno...he probably uses that everyday to open boxes, so it might not affect him." "Bet he never had one pointed at his throat before." The old man quickly held the box cutter up to Mike's face. He made sure he didn't flinch. "Have you ever had one pointed at your throat before?" "Can't say that I have." Ted was practically drooling as his eyes fixed on the blade. He ran his tongue along it's edge. "Wouldn't be a good thing, even if it is only a box cutter." "I suppose it wouldn't be." "See, a box cutter is a good weapon, kid. Fits right in yer pocket. Once you cut someone, all ya gotta do is pop that blade out. Common enough, not like they could trace it back to you, and it doesn't have to be considered a weapon. Not unless yer in the airport." He chuckled. "Perfectly legal..." The old man assumed Mike still thought they were talking about the robbery. Mike hadn't been thinking of it the entire conversation. He knew this man never intended on robbing the gas station. "That'll scare him, then." Mike answered. "Does it scare you?" "If I were being threatened with it, sure." "If you were? You are, boy." The old man held it closer to Mike's face. "I wan't your jacket..." Mike took off his jacket and handed it to the man. Ted took his arm off Mike and rubbed his hands together. He saw the hilt of Mike‘s sword. "There it is, sure looks valuable boy." The old man licked his lips. He was looking at Mike's sword. Mike turned a little bit. The old man tightened his grip on the box cutter. Mike never imagined he was capable of doing it. When he slashed the bum across his abdomen, spilling his intestines on the eroded pavement, it was almost as though he were watching a movie. It wasn’t happening to him, it was happening to someone else. This man, he wasn’t real. He was imagined, he was never really there. The blade of his sword seemed to vomit blood. Mike watched it run all over the asphalt. He could never go back. There was an eerie satisfaction to the event and he was no longer sure he actually wanted to go back. Now he could live without inhibition and without the crippling fear. He was ready for any obstacle. All he needed was that sword. Before, the sword was just for show, a novelty. Now it had a purpose. The sword used to be a weapon. Now he was the weapon, the sword merely an instrument. When he first saw it, illuminated by the rose colored lights, he was intimidated by it. The sword owned him in some way. Now he owned that sword. The sword must now be used for his purposes. It became an object. It became his sword. 

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags Introduction

Black Flags Introduction

“Why the fuck am I doing this?” Sahil thought as he walked against the stinging winds of January. Even the night itself seemed to be telling him to leave. He couldn’t though since he was trapped in a never ending loop of bullshit. US Military bullshit- the best kind for those of you that aren’t fully schooled and acquainted with bullshit. It wasn’t the punishment of Uncle Sam or the Boys in Blue that he feared. It was something far worse than that - a devout Muslim father. He didn’t even know for sure that he was gay. In fact, he had been with plenty of women. It was one man though…and that’s enough to punish yourself for. As a man, that is not acceptable. Not unless you decide to fully let go and start waving a rainbow flag. Somehow, the love of one man taints the heterosexual pool. So this bullshit, this bitter cold wind, like icicles through his heart was penance. His name was Jack. The smell of his cologne still passed through the air whenever he thought of him. He wasn’t extremely handsome or built nor was he feminine. He was a pure human soul that seemed to embody all ancient wisdom and thought, he was real. Sahil wanted to crawl inside of him on this cold night but Jack was long gone. Sahil kissed him one night. It was the only time he had ever lost complete control and just acted on impulse. He had dreamt of it, yet tried to push it out of his head while he was conscious. It wasn’t like kissing a woman. There wasn’t a fruity, floral smell and soft, petal-like lips. It was strong and comforting. There was something desperate and barbaric about it. Somehow- it was more natural than anything he had experienced. It wasn’t clumsy, it was fluid. It just flowed into eventually- well. That was then. Jack, in all his realism and spiritual wisdom never spoke of it. They continued as friends as though it never happened. That was worse, and ever since, Sahil chased that sublime feeling. Drugs, many women, illegal activity- none of it came close. It did land him in this mess though. For him to tell his father, he would have to tell his story- starting with Jack. That could never happen. Sahil would rather die than be a faggot in the eyes of his devout Muslim father. He wouldn’t even have to tell his father about Jack- the US Military would beat him to the punch. His family had been on a terrorist watch list at the time of his gay encounter. Everyone in their family was being monitored. So, in short, Sahil and Jack’s very natural encounter was a video in the possession of the United States government. Fucking pieces of shit. He got arrested for stealing money from a register at a gas station one night. Him and his friends had been snorting blow all night and it just seemed like something exciting to do. They were white though. They were able to get away with probation. Number one mistake when you’re a Muslim in America, don’t commit a crime. No matter what you did, you can never pay your debt. He was forced into a life of slavery after that- his main job function? Sahil was forced to become a terrorist. I know. This doesn’t make any sense. It didn’t to me either. America doesn’t want terrorists. I would find out that’s simply untrue and America is cranking them out like Apple makes their iPhones. After all, someone needs to be the bogeyman. I don’t know any other way to be. I somehow see the ugly truth like grime on a quartz countertop. I have a strong sense of justice that frequently got me into trouble growing up. “It doesn’t matter how smart you are when you act like an asshole all day long,” was a frequent phrase I heard from my mother. She wasn’t very articulate and was definitely crass. She was right though. In her simplicity she nailed it. I tried to make friends and be part of a social group but I kept being pushed out or ignored until I simply went away. I don’t sit here telling you this because I expect pity. I personally don’t care what you think about it. Most people in this society would just assume I was wrong anyway. There is no more love, compassion or understanding anymore. It’s all feigned tolerance and acceptance. People accept the groups the media tells them to. The truth-seekers are at the bottom of that list. I sought the shadows of the world. Anything unexplored (except the oceans since I’m afraid of sharks) were free game. One day, I stumbled into the vacuum of truth. The void of all that is decent and good. It started with the knowledge that the White House was ordering Black Flags regularly- plain Black Flags. It seems innocuous at the surface. How dangerous is a flag? Well right after that question is asked, synapses start firing (or misfiring in the case of most people). How many conflicts arise over a piece of cloth? And what the hell does America want with a bunch of black flags? It all led to Sahil and a story that I wish I had never heard. It was a story that uncovered a huge lie that the people just accepted. I wasn’t terribly excited about being involved in something like that. I wasn’t on point like Michael Hastings though so really who would even care? At that point, I didn’t even think that there was anything to it. After all, if the government was going to do something evil, wouldn’t they be a little more discreet? Well again, the synapses started firing. In recent history, the government had done the most of their evil right in front of us. They don’t even seem to care that the people know. The machine is so powerful, it simply can’t be brought down. So, again, who would actually care about me? At the time, I was unemployed. I lost my job at a restaurant because I told a customer that the fish still smelled better than her pussy. I can’t help it, I did grow up listening to the foul mouth of my mother. At some point, I gave up on trying to sound like an educated, well bred individual. I embraced the filthy language and crude behavior I was raised with. I was living with this guy I met years earlier in a bowling alley. I was at the snack bar buying a soda and I dropped it as soon as I started walking away. Suddenly, as I crouched on the floor, my skin radiating embarrassment, a young man walked up and offered to buy me a new one. Of course, the person behind the counter saw the whole thing and was pouring a new one as we spoke. He probably knew that, but he looked really good offering me a new one, didn’t he? I said I saw truth, but I was naïve as hell when it came to men. I actually mistook their phony lines for love and interest. At the time I danced in those dark shadows though, I think I was finally over it all. I still lived with the soda jerk however, and didn’t have any plans to leave. I was over love…it was just an illusion. Now- I know that love truly does exist. The truest forms of love are the ones that remain intact no matter what else is going on around it. I hate the fact such a connection is even called “love”. There simply is no word that would accurately describe when two people become one organism. It’s a truly amazing thing. Anyway, that’s all something else entirely. I met Sahil after I watched him leaving an Army base one day. His head was raised high, yet he wasn’t looking at anything. He moved quickly and directly as though he were pulled by an imaginary cable. There was something methodical in his movements and I simply wanted to know his mission. I walked slowly behind him. I made a lot of noise so I wouldn’t sneak up on him. “Hi…” I said as I approached his left side. He turned his head slightly and said nothing. “Listen…I kind of just wanted to talk to you. I’m trying to figure something out here, and I was hoping you may be able to help.” He shrugged and kept walking. “I’m not a cop or anything.” He laughed. “Why do you assume I would be afraid of law enforcement?” “I don’t know…isn’t everyone? I mean, unless you are a cop of course. Then you can just do whatever the fuck you want.” He chuckled. “I can’t argue with you there. What can I do for you?” “Well…I’m trying to figure something out here…” “You said that already. Who are you?” “My name is Tobin…O’Reilly.” “Do you have a card?” “No, I’m no one. I’m just curious about something.” “Okay. What are you curious about Miss Tobin O’Reilly?” “Could you stop please? I don’t really like talking and walking at a very fast pace.” “Okay, not here though. I really just want to get the fuck out of this place. Do you want to go somewhere? Coffee? Do you drink that?” “Does a kangaroo have giant balls?” His jaw dropped. “What?” “Yes…they do have giant balls and I love coffee.” “Do you remember the days when there were other coffee shops besides Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks? I remember there was this place in a town near me that had this giant Chess board outside. It was really cool. We tried to protest the Starbucks from taking over but seriously…Starbucks owns the world so…you can’t really fight that. I do like Frappuccinos though. If you make something like that then maybe you should earn a high rank in the world.” “You talk a lot, Tobin.” What a dick, I knew he would make some kind of comment like that once I was finished. “I don’t really spend much time around people. “ “It’s kind of obvious.” He smiled and sipped his coffee. “Alright…fine. I’ll just tell you what my problem is.” He nodded. “So it turns out that the government is buying a fuckton of black flags. I want to know what the hell they are doing with them.” He was quiet. “I know, I’m crazy right.” “Listen…I don’t think I can talk to you.” I felt excitement after his response. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it? What they’re doing with them, isn’t it?” “How the hell should I know or care about what the government is doing with flags. You don’t really seem like a professional person, Tobin. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say you are off your meds.” “You know what, douche? I really, truly, sincerely, honestly wish that were the case. I have a mess of a life, I don’t really need some nonsense like this in it.” “So then why are we here and why are you asking me? Why do you think I would even know that? Because I’m a Muslim, I must be a terrorist?” “No…that’s not what I thought. Not, at all. You just seemed…approachable.” “How many people did you ask before me?” “I stopped counting after 12.” “How many of them were white?” “Wow…I have no freaking idea, okay?” “Fair enough. So you were just hanging outside an Army base to ask a random stranger about black flags?” “Kind of…” I felt pretty embarrassed. “A regular Edward R Murrow aren’t you?” “I’m not trying to be a journalist. What the hell does that even mean now anyway? All journalists are now are jerks that go on TV and help to perpetuate a message of fear and self-loathing. The fact that you referenced a journalist that died over 50 years ago is proof of that.” He pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned closer. “That’s what you think?” “It’s what I know, huge difference. Did I have you at ‘fuck this world’?” He laughed. “You could say that. I may know some things but I have to ask what you plan on doing with this information?” “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know why I have to know and I have no clue why I’m sitting here with you.” “I don’t either. My initial instinct was to walk away…and yet. I kept walking with you.” The second time in Sahil’s life where he completely lost control and his instincts took over. Why did he go with me? Why did he want to talk? Was it because he couldn’t live the lie anymore and there I was? Was it because he just had to free himself of that heavy burden? Who really knows? Fate is like that. In the beginning, all it takes are two seemingly random and unrelated things to converge at some wayward point in a vast open space. Once they collide however, space starts to shrink around them and a clear path is formed. I was right when I felt that I wanted nothing to do with any of this. Ignorance is definitely bliss. What good would it do to know the truth about something you can’t change anyway? Someone like me, a loner, no friends and a roommate that I slept with a few times a month, does not benefit from such hopelessness. I was born to the let-downs of the world. When I was a kid, my favorite thing in the world was the Loch Ness Monster. I mean really, who doesn’t adore Nessie? What is cooler than an elusive sea creature? If you’re not a nerd then I’m sure many things, but for me…Nessie was the most exciting thing. Can you feel my elation when I read it could be a dinosaur? It rocked my nerdy world. Dinosaurs? Of course, when I started reading what scientists had to say about how a creature that size would never be able to survive in the loch based on a limited food supply and that the most famous and probing photo of Nessie was a hoax, I realized maybe mysteries are invented because life is so damn boring. All we do is get up, go to work, come home, watch Netflix, read a book (most of us fail on this thing), maybe go for a walk, go to sleep, repeat. We invent mysteries…we make up stories. So is that what I did with these flags? Did I just want to be involved in some story? Did I just want to add some excitement to my boring life? What if I told you that the levees in Louisiana were purposely ignored in the hopes a Category 5 hurricane would wipe away the poor areas? All so wealthy men could come in and make some more money? Part of you would probably know that it’s true. That other part though, the one that realizes we are on the losing side denies it. What good would it do to question the reality we’ve been presented with? It’s much easier to believe we are free and this life is ideal. That is, unless you’re Sahil. Unless you’re the bogeyman and the true enemy of us good and decent Americans. After all, his kind threatens our perfect way of life. He carries bombs everywhere he goes and he’s looking for the right moment to destroy us all. He’s especially waiting for some adorable, blue-eyed little child. Worst of all, these terrorists don’t even value their own lives. They would kill themselves to further their cause. They are barbarians without souls. How can we fight an enemy like that? At least with other “civilized” nations, life is valued. Again- firing synapses. Sahil held the door open for me, he slammed his brakes when a little boy ran in front of the car, he pet someone’s dog as we walked down the street (to the horror of its owner) - he valued life instinctively. Sahil was 16 when the planes struck the towers. He finished high school being hated, pushed down flights of stairs and beat up in the parking lot while teachers watched from afar. One day, he went out to his car and saw the word “terrorist” was keyed into the side. His family moved to the US from Pakistan when he was a baby. He didn’t even remember living anywhere else. America was just as much his home as the bastard that keyed his car. It didn’t matter though. It was a new world and he wasn’t wanted in it. He watched with indifference as the country banded together with pitchforks and torches shouting: “turn the Middle East into a glass parking lot”. His mother feared for their safety and resorted to buying her children pepper spray hidden in pens. She sternly told them to use it in emergencies. Jihadist beheading videos- what can possibly be scarier than that? We hear stories of the religious warriors using dull blades and hacking away at the flesh of non-believers. Their black flags with unfamiliar language painted on are quite terrifying. Yes, they are clearly the bad guys. They even have a pirate-like appearance. The terrorists always have to praise Allah before these gruesome acts just in case we forgot to fear their God also. Much like the Mexican cartel murder videos that remind us to support a wall and tightened border. Sahil was real to me. He didn’t tell me what he thought I wanted to hear- for once. He didn’t spit out commonly used phrases and tell me that I was the best woman he’d ever met. He didn’t tell me his heart had been broken beyond repair by the last woman so he needed to be comforted. We all know how men like to be comforted too. They won’t say it but the second you want to give them a hug they start moving your hand somewhere else. He wasn’t like that. It’s like he didn’t expect it to go anywhere beyond us talking. It didn’t matter he was a man and I was a woman. Is it possible he hadn’t been treated like a human in so long that he was able to feel comfort in my presence alone? Sahil sat in a dingy, gray room with stained ceiling tiles for what seemed like days. He was beaten. Not by the police. The night went by so fast. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to the places it was said he had been. Was he even there? He did vaguely remember the robbery. The man behind the counter was also Pakistani, a fact that disappointed his father. They were supposed to stick together in this adversity. Maybe it was growing up in a white town that gave him a false sense of belonging. He’d underestimated the rest of society when it came to “his kind” Then there was the coke. “Us white suburban boys don’t have access to hard drugs. The terrorist element brought it in to destroy this community.” Intent to distribute. Sahil had never even thought of the stuff until he joined that circle. It didn’t matter though when it came to public opinion and the ruling class. He sat in the cold plastic chair waiting to hear his father’s booming voice. Where did the design for those awful chairs come from anyway? I always wondered that- all my life. Why spend time and resources making a chair that is so damn uncomfortable you can’t even think straight while you’re in it? Synapses are firing. At first, Sahil’s story was like a really bad James Bond plot. The US Government can’t just invent and mass produce enemies. For one thing, they don’t have to. As long as there are different cultures there will be conflict. As long as power exists, people will kill each other for it. Not to sound overly simple but why not just use the perfectly good enemies we already had? You can’t control a natural enemy. You can control an enemy that never existed in the first place. What happens when that enemy cuts the cord and becomes a real enemy? He told me the government had studios all over the country. Using only cell phones and other devices that produced grainy images, videos were uploaded to the dark places on the internet and slowly leaked into the mainstream. The objective was the make the people fear their enemy. The government loved the internet. It provided a new forum for their propaganda and manipulation. They could keep their squeaky clean censored television by day and make snuff films under the cover of darkness. Now you’re wondering if the videos were real. Some of them were and some were not as far as what is seen in the videos. For example, the Mexican and Dominican videos on Live Leak contain actual violence. The “fake” part of the video are the circumstances surrounding the violence. The poor victim in the video believes it, however it’s all manufactured. Yes. The powerful people in charge love the internet. A video seen on these darker forums is much more likely to be believed. The average person that watches someone thrown on the floor and beheaded as they scream for mercy would feel shock and probably couldn’t even place their feelings. Most of the time they won’t stop watching. The best part? That image will stay in their minds forever. The image of another’s suffering and brutal depraved murder on the internet. What is commonly felt? Thank God I don’t live there. Thank God I’m free. People can click on these pirate videos of men covered up, waving their black flags of death. What can we do to keep them from killing us so viciously? Nothing. We are Americans so that’s enough to merit a death sentence. How fucking horrible and scary is that? What the hell can we do expect wait to die? Every time we are in a crowd, we find ourselves scanning it for someone with a backpack or an usually thick coat. Sahil had seen it all happen and was in fact made to participate in the videos. He had not been forced to kill yet. The government allows the real psychopaths (usually the CIA) to do the most ruthless acts possible. It’s some kind of reward for them. A sickening one at that. As I said, the people are innocent and totally picked at random most of the time. As much as we would all like to believe that we are each special and important we are nothing. We are all interchangeable. Sahil hated every part of his double life. As time went by, it wasn’t even that his secret would be exposed that kept him the dutiful slave. His father probably would get over it. Maybe he could even lie and say the video was a fake. We all know technology is so great that’s possible. As the years dragged on, Sahil became familiar with what his captors were capable of. Noble men would say that death is better. Noble men that have not faced it before. Over time, real terrorists began to appear. You could never be sure if they were CIA or naturally occurring. It was a high stakes game. Sahil simply followed his orders and went back to his life when it was over. It was almost impossible to erase the awful images from his mind and it kept him awake at night. How could such evil exist? It was better to believe they were terrorists that had some kind of cause. This was all at the whim of an evil empire. That brings us up to speed. Now that you can understand the world you are about to enter, it just may easier for you to follow along.

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags #10

At first, Sahil’s story was like a really bad James Bond plot. The US Government can’t just invent and mass produce enemies. For one thing, they don’t have to. As long as there are different cultures there will be conflict. As long as power exists, people will kill each other for it. Not to sound overly simple but why not just use the perfectly good enemies we already had? You can’t control a natural enemy. You can control an enemy that never existed in the first place. What happens when that enemy cuts the cord and becomes a real enemy?

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags #9

Sahil was real to me. He didn’t tell me what he thought I wanted to hear- for once. He didn’t spit out commonly used phrases and tell me that I was the best woman he’d ever met. He didn’t tell me his heart had been broken beyond repair by the last woman so he needed to be comforted. We all know how men like to be comforted too. They won’t say it but the second you want to give them a hug they start moving your hand somewhere else. He wasn’t like that. It’s like he didn’t expect it to go anywhere beyond us talking. It didn’t matter he was a man and I was a woman. Is it possible he hadn’t been treated like a human in so long that he was able to feel comfort in my presence alone? Sahil sat in a dingy, gray room with stained ceiling tiles for what seemed like days. He was beaten. Not by the police. The night went by so fast. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to the places it was said he had been. Was he even there? He did vaguely remember the robbery. The man behind the counter was also Pakistani, a fact that disappointed his father. They were supposed to stick together in this adversity. Maybe it was growing up in a white town that gave him a false sense of belonging. He’d underestimated the rest of society when it came to “his kind” Then there was the coke. “Us white suburban boys don’t have access to hard drugs. The terrorist element brought it in to destroy this community.” Intent to distribute. Sahil had never even thought of the stuff until he joined that circle. It didn’t matter though when it came to public opinion and the ruling class. He sat in the cold plastic chair waiting to hear his father’s booming voice. Where did the design for those awful chairs come from anyway? I always wondered that- all my life. Why spend time and resources making a chair that is so damn uncomfortable you can’t even think straight while you’re in it? Synapses are firing.

[shell313-blog]

i write because if i did not, i would surely go mad. but perhaps being a little bit mad is why i write.

we’re all a little mad here though, aren’t we? (cc, 2017)

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags #8

Jihadist beheading videos- what can possibly be scarier than that? We hear stories of the religious warriors using dull blades and hacking away at the flesh of non-believers. Their black flags with unfamiliar language painted on are quite terrifying. Yes, they are clearly the bad guys. They even have a pirate-like appearance. The terrorists always have to praise Allah before these gruesome acts just in case we forgot to fear their God also. Much like the Mexican cartel murder videos that remind us to support a wall and tightened border.

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags #7

Sahil was 16 when the planes struck the towers. He finished high school being hated, pushed down flights of stairs and beat up in the parking lot while teachers watched from afar. One day, he went out to his car and saw the word “terrorist” was keyed into the side. His family moved to the US from Pakistan when he was a baby. He didn’t even remember living anywhere else. America was just as much his home as the bastard that keyed his car. It didn’t matter though. It was a new world and he wasn’t wanted in it. He watched with indifference as the country banded together with pitchforks and torches shouting: “turn the Middle East into a glass parking lot”. His mother feared for their safety and resorted to buying her children pepper spray hidden in pens. She sternly told them to use it in emergencies.

[shell313-blog]

Black Flags #6

What if I told you that the levees in Louisiana were purposely ignored in the hopes a Category 5 hurricane would wipe away the poor areas? All so wealthy men could come in and make some more money? Part of you would probably know that it's true. That other part though, the one that realizes we are on the losing side denies it. What good would it do to question the reality we've been presented with? It's much easier to believe we are free and this life is ideal. That is, unless you're Sahil. Unless you're the bogeyman and the true enemy of us good and decent Americans. After all, his kind threatens our perfect way of life. He carries bombs everywhere he goes and he's looking for the right moment to destroy us all. He's especially waiting for some adorable, blue-eyed little child. Worst of all, these terrorists don't even value their own lives. They would kill themselves to further their cause. They are barbarians without souls. How can we fight an enemy like that? At least with other "civilized" nations, life is valued. Again- firing synapses. Sahil held the door open for me, he slammed his brakes when a little boy ran in front of the car, he pet someone's dog as we walked down the street (to the horror of its owner) - he valued life instinctively.