Diary of a risen king|
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|Sunday, January 9th, 2011|
Inspired by the tales of Howard Philip Lovecraft. (1890-1937)
The Unnamed Man
The story I am about to tell you is both my own, and the last wish of a dying man. I had the chance, or misfortune, to meet the man whom this concerns, six days ago. I had only just been transferred to the Arkham sheriff’s office, and I still was new to their systems, so I had stayed a bit later then normal, finishing up some paperwork. In any case, it was a little after midnight, when the man stumbled through the front door, muddy, tired, and bleeding. I quickly helped him back to a cell, as they had the only beds in the building. His shallow, haggard breathing, and torn flesh, spoke of terrible physical duress, but what made me take a step back from him and cross myself, was the look in his eyes, this man had born witness to horrors beyond human capacity. He bade me fetch pad, and pencil, that his story be recorded before he died. On this point he was bound, even once I had a look at his injuries and determined that unless he was hiding more extensive internal damages his wounds were not life threatening. He responded by speaking of damage to his spirit or soul, the physical injuries seemed to not even register to him as he would not hear of my summoning a doctor for him. “you must bare witness to what I have seen.” He said “you must know of the danger close to hand.” It was there in that dirty cell, kneeling beside the apparent deathbed of a total stranger, that I was given this account, which haunts my dreams and waking hours.
“I was on a crew of men working for Dr. Franklin Greendale; we were to be assisting in a series of historical and archeological digs and in the valley northwest of here. He told us that he had sources which pointed to a vast labyrinth malignantly coiling beneath the town or Arkham, a network of passages sealed for millennia, and that had passed beyond human recollection before ever a European foot touched the sands of this continent. We didn’t much care why we were there, just that we were to dig where we were told while he consulted his books and maps.
By the third day of this the doctor was getting agitated, restlessly pacing to and fro across the site. We had already sunk several trenches with no notable finds. It was on the fifth day that things changed. We had moved to a new spot to dig, beyond the original gridded area, the doc seemed pretty excited, more than normal, found something he thought was important I guess, He was muttering about how blind he had been, that it had been obvious all along. We dug a longer trench, about 20 feet, then started down, he kept insisting that “it” was here, told us what it was, just that it was down here, somewhere. Bobby found it first, near the far end, a large flat stone, wider then the trench. We put it off as just a odd rock, then John and Brian, the next two diggers in line started hitting the same thing, soon we’d expanded our trench’s walls to reveal the ten foot by ten foot slab, and the doc climbed down to us wanting to see it closer. A few hard raps from a shovel proved it to be solid but with a hollow echo from below it. The doc wanted us to break through right then, but the sun was setting already, and we were tired from the digging. He reluctantly agreed to wait till the morning.
That night we all got nightmares something awful, it was inside some kind of stone room or building, a fire pit in the middle cast dancing shadows on the round walls. A lone man stood by the fire, his outline clear but his face was blurred from our sight, screaming out words I dare not repeat. All around I saw forms, things moving, but things that should not be, creatures whose very existence was a blasphemy against nature t exist, and indeed my mind shrinks away from the memory even now. There was a chanting in the background, many of the words I couldn’t understand, and the few I could make out carried in their twisted syllables such abhorrent imagery that my tongue rebels from recreating their utterance.
Even bringing these sounds to mind seem to cause him to lapse into convulsions to such a degree, that I was forced to restrain him lest he aggravate his injuries further. After a few moments, the spell seemed to pass but he was left drained by the exertion. Refusing again my offer of medical aid he continued, but slowly now, his labored breathing was worsened by the brief struggle. I will skip over his breaks and pauses to give you the full account as unbroken as I can.
“The next morning I awoke to the sound of screams, All of us in the workers tent were shrieking wordless cries of terror. A long time it took us to fight down the abomination of our visions, and venture out of the tent. Doctor Greendale was there sitting before a fire, seemingly unalarmed, not even glancing in our direction. He told us to hurry with breakfast, for he wanted to break though the stone before noon. We ate very little that morning, what we did choke down sat heavy in our stomachs. At the trench we saw a warning of what lay in wait below us. The grass along the edges of the pit had turned black, and withered, curling away from the exhumed rock. To this the doctor gave no heed, only the breaching of the stone, and so with pickaxe, and hammer, we climbed down to began the task.
The rock resisted our attempts to breach at first, but slowly crumbled and gave way to our efforts, as the stone deteriorated From the dark maw arose such a stench, that we were forced back, it assailed our minds, for none of us could imagine from what such an unspeakable perfume might arise. We turned to ask doctor Greendale about the smell, and much to our surprise found him already fitted with a headlamp and breath mask, with him he had flashlights and masks for us. He spoke barely a word to us as he proceeded to survey the entrance, waiting for our gear to be readied, finally calling for one of the trench ladders, made ready to descend into that unholy pit.
Of the exploration, I will not go into detail, the passages seemed without end, and the beams of our lights seemed barely able to penetrate the miasma of blackness that blanketed the way. It stretched on for hours of dark passages, broken by horrendous bas-reliefs depicting human sacrifices done on grotesque alters, before unnamed gods. It was finally after miles of walking, that we came to the room, round and lined with inset shelves packed with leather bound books and ornately sealed urns, The doctor was a dynamo of energy seemly trying to examine every aspect of the room at once.
Realization slowly dawned on me, as to what I was staring at; this was the room from my dream, suddenly the face of the figure by the fire resolved into my mind, Greendale! He was the gibbering loremaster of my dream, it had been he calling forth the macabre terrors and ushering the way for those who cannot be described by words, and he was beginning to mutter now. The others did not seem to understand, only I could see what was about to happen, I turned and without a word fled. The miles of passageways all seemed the same, I ran knowing I must escape. From deep below I felt a rumble, like an earthquake but the earth did not move, yet I felt the sound flowing through me, filling my heart with dread. I ran on with greater speed willing myself faster, the rumble was becoming more distinct now, it was voices, deep inhuman voices from my dream, chanting those same fell words, only now I could make out the whole phrase, There is power in words my friend and less I tempt those same demons whom I so recently escaped I will take what I heard rolling through those tunnels with me to the grave.
I finally came upon the opening we had cut how I had found my way I could not tell you but I hurriedly rushed forward, to feel the sun on my skin once more and banished this cloying darkness. Just as I neared, a cloud of black smoke pillared from the stone floor and Doctor Greendale, or whatever he was, stepped out in front of me, holding a bloodstained knife in one hand, and an ancient tomb lay open in the other. The chanted words echoing through the tunnels were flowing from his mouth as he approached me, freezing me with fear, but I would not be denied. I fell upon him with the frenzied strenght that is only possessed by a cornered animal. I bested him despite taking such injuries as you see, of both body and soul in doing so. As soon as the doctor’s last breath left his body, the deep rumble stopped. I know not what this means, but you must seal the hole, I had barley the strength to make it here. I had to tell someone, the evil is there still, it must be stopped!”
These were the last words the man uttered. Grabbed at my coat as he shoated the last warning but his grip weakened and he fell back dead, of what spiritual maladity he spoke of I do not know. He never gave his name, nor did he have any identification on him, I made some asked at the Arkham university, but no one had heard of a Doctor Franklin Greendale, nor did they hear of a scientific team stopping in Arkham. The next day the calls started, people who report vague shapes at night out of windows, or scrapping sounds at doors, no one can describe them exactly but with each call is a certentaty that a malicious presence is nearby. The reports have doubled in the last two days. Three days ago we sent a party to check the hills for any camp signs, and to see if any aspect of the tale I was told is true. We are still awaiting word back from them, and I fear it may already be too late.
The Creation of the Realm of Shadows and the Building of the Kingdom of Light
God would be a dyke
if she could find someone to hold her
Okay, time to set the record straight. I have stood by and seen the story I passed on to you changed over the centuries, and a few things need to be remembered. Now, many people have read the crap they call my words, many follow the man who was said to be my son, and many people call me the Father. It’s the “father” part that I find the most amusing. Men and their egos have got to be the funniest things I made, next to the platypus of course. To always hear them say to each other “we were made special,” that we are “shaped in His image.” The poor conceited creatures. Only one thing was ever special, could ever be special to me-- and her name was Luci.
I really thought it was love that we had, but to her it was different. To her I was just a tool to be used. I know that now. She never cared for me, all she wanted was power, my power. I didn’t notice it when we first met, the look she had in her eyes. It lit the embers of my creative flame and stoked it to new heights, for a time I was inspired again. It had been such a long time since I had bothered to make anything. Before it was objects--stars, suns, planets--things that pleased the eye from afar. I couldn’t do detail work, I had nothing to fill all that space up with. My love for her colored the scene. It gave me the inspiration to make life, the planets filled with beautiful things. Ever changing creatures and patterns formed, all colors sprang into being, and for a time we were happy. The fondness we had for each other grew; it grew until love itself came to be. I was blissful during that time, that wonderful time before we parted, before her intentions became clear. She had wanted to build life, I gave her a chance. It had been my gift, and she seemed eager to try. Hell came to be, and for the first time the creations I had made knew evil. New creatures sprang out of the ground. They were made and sustained it seemed, on hate--another of Luci‘s creations, sorrow and death they brought to the world. I was too late to stop evil from being put into the minds of the things I made. Because of that I threw her, and the beings she made, down to her creation, Hell. I couldn’t kill her, my most beautiful, and horrible of creations. It’s been a long time, now, since I kicked her out, and I can still remember that first time I saw her.
I had finished the stars, even given them a nice little twinkle so they never grew too boring, and so they would catch the eye. It had been a long while since I had last seen someone, or something else, one like what I had used to know. They all wandered off I guess, on to bigger and better places maybe even a little creation of their own. I was the only foolish one, sticking around here, in charge of this small lonely place, my small and lonely place. It seemed sad here, when I looked around and saw that it was really just me, that I was alone. I don’t remember what they looked like anymore, the others I used to know, but I think it was that thought that led me to Luci. I craved affection, though I had no word for it then. It was just a desire filling me, to create, but on a whole new scale something totally different. It was then that I had the idea, to make a thing like me, it wouldn’t be a copy of myself, there would be differences. That way, just like the stars, it wouldn’t be too boring. The way I made her was so primitive that I am embarrassed by it still, though I never told her that. Like any first attempt there would be problems, but I didn’t care, I didn’t notice the flaws that the methods had instilled in her or that my own inexperience and set in motion, until it was too late. She called herself Lucille, Luci for short. Her close-cropped black hair, red eyes, a cute little nose, and almost overly full lips set on a strong jaw. She was gorgeous. And then she asked me for my name, I thought for a moment, and never having thought of what to call myself, there was a pause before a name found my lips, “Joan. You may call me Joan”. She flashed me that wicked little smile of hers for the first time, the one I would grow to love.
The days passed quickly after that, each one blending into the next. It was one long blur of lust, desire, our bodies pressed to one another’s. The jumble of half formed thoughts, images, and ideas that flew through my head during our time together would sometimes take root, we danced through the universe on a sea of madness, and it was beautiful. Somewhere in that flurry of passion, it must have been in the early moments I guess, that brought humans into being. Neither of us was quite sure what to do with them, so small and helplessly unaware of what’s happening around them but it became apparent that they could look after themselves, in most situations. The odd thing was that these humans looked much like Luci and me.
Other oddities arose, flightless birds, air breathing fish. Then one day we looked down and saw a different kind of human, not like us, different in both appearance and mind. Not as intelligent as the first humans. They seemed an obtuse sort, lacking in the grace of those previous, but with some endearing qualities of their own. They were a curious people, and had the oddest habits, not to mention parts. We took to calling these humans men. I would, at times, go down with Luci and lead her through my creation. We would walk beside the still waters of the Earth, or roll in the green grass. Though every now and then the humans would see us, they would be none the wiser of our true nature. Oh, the times we had enjoying the beauty I had created there.
Luci talked more and more about the Earth, the small world where we had gone to make love our first time, in a little place I aside for us. It was a small garden where I placed the most beautiful flowers, fruits, and plants I had made, a paradise where Luci and I could be alone, and at peace. So it was then, once again, that we walked the Earth, returning to the garden I had made for us. It was there that Luci asked of me the gift, the gift to create life. I marveled at the thought, of all that we could make together. And so we did at first, as she learned to control the power, I taught her to use it, starting with big things and slowly working her way down to life. Her creations were different from mine somehow, but until she began to bring about life I didn’t know how different. She picked Earth to be her canvas. The Earth, which she had talked so much about and the humans that so fascinated her. That she would spend more time with the humans than me nearly drove me mad with jealousy. Because she would rather spend her time among them, I turned my back on her during her visits, her and the human things. I could not bring my self to destroy them but I could not stand the sight of them as they reminded me of how they had taken the one I loved away from me. It was that dissent that allowed her to plant the seeds of evil in the heart of life. When I finally went looking for her one day I found the changes that had happened. Everything seemed so sad, so full of dread. Fearful of this person called god, it wasn’t till I asked a few of them that I found out who they meant by it. I hated her for it, bringing these creatures that I had made and loved turn their love for me into fear. Though they had scorned her before they seem to have taken to fearing her as well, in fact, they fear this Lucifer, Their new name for her, even more than me.
I tried my best to be kind and caring to the people, humans and men alike, but to no avail. The Men seemed to have taken control of both the humans, and the fear. The more I tried to show I cared, the more the men said I must be feared, the more they must suffer in my name. Humans did horrible things to each other in my name; did they not know me any more? Did they not remember the wonders I had surrounded them with. But then I had abandoned them. I had let my envy and jealousy of Luci blind me to the need of those who truly needed me. I swore I would do my best to make right what I had let go wrong. That was my next mistake.
For a time I worked at regaining the peoples trust in me. I felt I owed it to them; after all I let happen to them. I gave them everything they seemed to want but it came out wrong somehow. For many of their lifetimes this went on, till at last I saw it. Luci, I had pushed her memory away and I wronged the humans again with that. I allowed Luci to have influence on the earth; I don’t know how I did not see her, see her tainting the work I was trying to do. When I saw her she had changed, her face was too beautiful, and it had taken on a twisted mockery of human imperfections, seeming to flaunt its perfect nature. She had grown cold and withdrawn since our last meeting. Surrounding herself with twisted spawn she made. Things she dredged out of nightmares of humans, and gave life in flesh. We spoke and I tried to find the being I once knew, the Luci I once loved but she was gone.
One thing that Luci spoke of that shocked me was her mention of souls. It seems that humans have within them a kind of energy. This energy grows with them it is what they use to live and make the planets live. Humans eat of the land in so doing they take some of the land’s energy into themselves this energy flows out of them through just being alive, moving around, working, this cycle lasts until the human dies his energy then passes to the earth, or so it use to. Luci has been taking these souls at death and using their energy to allow her access to abilities similar to my own. She doesn’t care that doing this drains energy for the planet and from the people as a whole, given enough time she could drain everything of its energy, so there was only one thing I could do, to save my creations, myself, and Luci. Yes, even Luci despite all that she did I can’t bring myself to end her, I had to do like the others, leave this place behind and take her with me I had to give up on man and take Luci some place far from humans or anything that I’d made, my time walking through that paradise I’d made came to a close and we passed on the earth is still sick as are the humans on it, but maybe I can start again show Luci how to build from nothing rather than use my ideas. Whatever happens though, I know what I did saved my creations, without us there, the fear the humans had for us will fade with their short lives. They can enjoy their paradise the way I intended, without me.
The clash of steel on steel echoed across the dimly lit hall, as white clad master and apprentice dueled back and forth across the Salle. The master despite his age forced his student back again and again till he caught him off guard. With a feint followed by a quick flick of his wrist, he batted the student’s sword aside and lunged, scoring with the blunted tip against the left breast of the student’s padded jacket. The student, Francisco Saviolo, removed his helmet, his dark blond hair long for the fashion of the time spilled out to just above his shoulders. The hair and his forehead glistened with perspiration from the bout. The master, Don Jacques Benantio, likewise removed his mask.
“You’re doing well Francisco, but you need to work on staying focused.”
Francisco wiped the cuff of his jacket across his forehead, and tried to slow his ragged breathing. “Yes, Don Benantio, I know that, you told me last time, I will try and practice.”
Benantio sighed and shook his head. “Very well Francisco, You should try and get in better shape as well, if an old man like me can make you lose your breath so quickly. I’ll see you at 4 o’clock Friday, and I expect you to be watching what you’re doing this time.”
Francisco smiled at his aging friend and teacher, and turned to the bench that held his clothes. Placing his foil on the rack with the others, he gathered up his belonging and headed for the dressing rooms, which lay just off the hall. Benantio walked to his weapons locker set against the wall between two of the huge leaded glass windows, the large wooden cabinet looked small in comparison. In it were the tools of his trade; two practice foils, a dueling epee kept sharpened to a keen edge, and an old long sword. It was the long sword that caught his eye, as it always did. The edge was burred and nicked, the crest of Louis the XVIII shone as it always would, whenever he saw the crest dull or tarnish, he would take it down and gently polish the steel till it gleamed once more. It was under the command of King Louis that he had served as an Adjutant chef and given ten years of his life. His mind was just beginning to wander back to the days of his past life when the dressing room door open and Francisco appeared. He said his goodbyes as he walked across the smooth hardwood floor towards the living room, Benantio, shaken from his reminiscing, placed his foil in the cabinet and turned to the window; drawing closed the heavy velvet drapes to keep out the chill of the coming night breeze. With them shut the hall was plunged in to a darkness lit only by the flickering candles in his living room. He made his way inside and to his bottle of brandy, the weary ache in his joints had been settling deeper as winter approached, this would not be a pleasant Christmas he thought to himself, and with the glass finished sought out the warmth of his bed.
Francisco closed the front door behind him as he took a breath of the crisp October air, colder than Toledo where he had grown up, but Paris had its own charm despite the temperature. His boots clicked against the cobblestone as he walked down the street. The last gleams of the sun were still spanning the sky, setting the heavens aflame in its glow. Stretching his sore shoulders he thought he might just stop by the Golden Pheasant before heading home. He was about three blocks down when he caught sight of its window. Its warm glow spread across the street dancing with the multihued texture of a hot fire and he picked up his pace in anticipation.
“Ah, good evening Monsieur Francisco” bubbled the innkeeper, Anthony. He was a man from a well-off family that had fallen on some hard times after Napoleon’s exile. He had kept this store and was able to make enough for a nice steady living if maybe not at the status he once had. His gray eyes and wrinkled face held a humor which was well known to all who frequented his tavern.
“So what would you like tonight?” he said as he motioned to a seat at the bar.
“Just a glass of port, Anthony.”
“Ah very good” then dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “you know I just got a few new bottles in and I’ve been looking forward to trying this vintage myself, what say we split a bottle and the cost?”
“Sure, Anthony.” He chuckled. “You talked me into it.”
Sitting back, Francisco allowed himself to soak in the surroundings; two older men were off in a corner near the stairs, engaged in a battle of chess, several patrons were sittings at the bar idle chit-chat floated about the common room. The well-worn tables and chairs give that sense of life to the room and the fireplace. Francisco stopped his appraisal as his eyes caught a very pleasing shape. She was new, sitting in a corner table her back to the wall; he never seen her in here before. Her fair skin made her brown eyes, and ebony hair stand out, full lips curled up slightly at the edges in the hint of a smile were wrapped around the edge of one of Anthony’s crystalline glasses, which was half full of white wine. Her eyes caught his over the top of her glass, and it took a moment before he was able to remember his manners and politely look away. Her delicate fingers perfectly curled around the stem, the dark blue dress she wore was not of local manufacture, the frill and the set of the buttons gave that much away, though he could not say for sure where it had come from. She brushed back a lock from her ear with a casual flick as she set her drink down. His inspection was cut short as Anthony came back out with an opened bottle and two glasses. The little innkeeper filled the glasses and settled into a chair across from him, Francisco took his and was about to drink when Anthony caught his arm.
“This is the first bottle of the new batch, we must toast our first drink else the rest of the batch goes sour on me”
“Okay, Anthony.” Francisco laughed. Anthony’s superstitions were legend in the area. “A little good luck never hurt anyone.” He spared a quick glimpse at the woman by the fire. “To dreams then, the motivation of our lives.”
“To dreams.” With that the glasses were emptied, as were the next three sets. He was about to fill his glass with the last of the port when he saw the woman heading towards the door.
“Here Anthony, have the rest.” He lay down 10 francs on the tabletop next to his glass. “Put the extra towards yourself. I have to go ask someone a question.” He said as he stood, almost steadily and moved for the door. Exiting, he looked around and saw the woman turning down an alley, setting off after her he knew it was the wine’s motivation but he had to find out her name if nothing else. He was not more than a dozen steps from the mouth of the ally when a noise cut through the slight haze of alcohol in his brain, it was the sound of a woman’s scream. He hurried as fast as he could to the corner of the alley, down which he could see two figures struggling, one was a tall portly man dressed well in dark clothing, the other was the women.
“Stop! You, there, stop that!” Francisco raced down the alley, his brain clearing slightly as his instincts took over. Two more figures stepped out of the shadows and came at him. He lowered his shoulder and caught the one on the left in the chest sending him down with a grunt of surprise. A blow to the small of Francisco’s back took him down to a knee. Dropping to the ground he got under the kick heading for his head and thrust out his foot, it connected with something and he heard a crash but he couldn’t spare a glance to see. Down the ally he saw the black haired woman being carried out the other end of the ally by the portly man. The sounds behind him told that the two were back on their feet and moving towards him. He sprinted to the end of the alley and saw the trying to get the girl in to a carriage, with little time to work with Francisco charged, catching the fat man with his back to him. Hoping that his honor would forgive him he swung, his fist hitting just below the right ear. The blow sent the man to the ground. Grabbing her arm and swinging her around towards the open street he pushed her away from the men emerging from the ally.
“Run! Get out of here!” He hoped she would do as he said, but right now there was no time to check.
The two men were on him, ducking below the first punch Francisco struck out with a stiff right hand to his belly, sending the attacker backwards clutching his midsection and retching. The other brought his elbow down on Francisco’s back; something popped and fiery tendrils of pain shot down his right side. Francisco hugged his ribs and retreated to give himself a bit of breathing room and his first chance to get a look at his adversaries. They were dressed in rags but their skin was clean, and they were too well fed to be street people. The one he had punched in the gut was up and closing on his left, traces of vomit on his beard, the other was coming from his right, holding a dagger in his hand, it seemed the fat one was still down from his first blow. At least something is going in my favor he thought, shiftily slightly back trying to keep both men in his vision. A grunt of pain and the thud of a body hitting the ground came from behind him and the dagger holder’s gaze was draw to it for a moment. Francisco took a chance and rushed, the man thrust at his head Francisco parried it away with his left hand, feeling the icy sting as the blade bit into the back of his hand, but he was close enough now, his right knee came up and caught the man between the legs, his hand opened and the dagger clattered to the cobblestones as he doubled over clutching his groin. Francisco brought his fist up hard flattening his nose and the man crumpled to the ground. The crunch of a boot on gravel brought him spinning around. The black haired woman stood over the body of the bearded man, a good-sized rock in her hand, again the crunch they both turned towards the carriage, and the source of the sound. The fat man leaned heavily against the side of the carriage, a double-barreled pistol in his hand. Francisco froze. The man sneered as he cocked back the hammer and leveled the gun at him. The women didn’t freeze though, bringing the rock up she hurled it, it was hurried and across her body but it caught him on the right shoulder jerking him around slightly as he pulled the trigger, it wasn’t much, but enough to spoil his aim, the bullet only grazing Francisco’s leg. Seeing his chance Francisco leapt at the man grabbing the man’s gun hand he dug his fingers in to the wrist trying to break the man’s grip. They struggle for a moment before Francisco, pulling against the man unbalanced them and sent them both falling to the ground, the larger man pulled atop him. The blow knocked the wind from Francisco’s lungs and the jolt to his already damaged rib cage brought a ragged scream from his lips.
Despite his best efforts, Francisco could feel his strength was leavening him; the pain from his ribs was sapping his energy, and the gun was being forced towards his head. In desperation, he managed to wedge two fingers behind the trigger keeping the gun from firing and buying him precious seconds. Then for the second time the women he was saving, saved his life, this time by applying her hard tipped walking boot to the man’s ribs. He grunted and rolled away from this new attack, giving Francisco the opening he needed, rolling up to a kneel he threw all the rest of his strength into a hammer blow down on to his attackers head, bouncing it off the hard cobbles below him, the gun fell from his unconscious fingers.
The women grabbed his wrist, and strained to pull Francisco to his feet. “We have to get out of here. There will be too many questions from this that I don’t want to answer.”
“What?” Francisco gasped the air just creeping back into his lungs. He was drained, His left hand was covered in blood from the cut, the shirt cuff stained crimson. His right side throbbed with every breath he took and sweat stung the flesh wound in his leg. He shakily gained his feet with her help, the effects of the battle were wearing off and his nerves were shot. She was insistent and at the moment stronger then he was, she led the way off through the alleys of Paris Francisco leaning heavily against her. How long he followed her he could not be sure but by the time they had reached where they were going he had lost all sense of direction. Their destination turned out to be an iron braced wooden door set below ground level at the bottom of a short set of stairs. She knocked twice quickly then waited, knocked a third time then kicked it. The door open and a large man with a patch over one eye stood in the doorway.
“No names,” the women said, “my friend here needs some medical care and rest.” The man nodded, and stepped aside ushering them in. Francisco was too tired to wonder much at where they were. He just collapsed in a chair as his vision of the the room went black.
His mother’s voice was calling him in to dinner, the bright Toledo sun shone down on his small body as his chubby child legs carried him across the green field towards his family’s back door. I’m coming, Mom, he called, Mom I’m coming, Mom? … Mommy? ……Mommy? Reaching out his hand as the vision faded out still crying out to his mother. Francisco awoke with a start. Sitting up too fast, he winced, clutching his side. He looked down in surprise to see only bandages covering his ribs.
“What the…” he said to no one in particular, but a familiar voice answered,
“It’s good to see you awake Francisco, I hope your doing better then you look.”
“Benantio? Why are you here? Where is the girl?” He stopped and looked around. “For that matter, where am I?”
“You’re in my guest bedroom, which answers your first question. As for the girl, well that might be reveled in time. “For now” he said, “Get some rest.” Benantio rose from the chair he had been sitting in. “I will get you something to eat.”
As Benantio walked out of the room Francisco was left with hundreds of questions playing through his head. Pulling the blankets off him, he saw and felt his wounds had been treated. His breeches had been cut just about the wound to his left leg a bandage wound around where the bullet had grazed him. It was real then, he thought, all of it, the girl from the bar, the fight… His thoughts trailed off as he sat on the edge of the bed trying to find Benantio’s place in all of this. This was how Benantio found him as he came back in with a plate of holding some ham and bread, and a crystalline glass that held a light brown liquid.
“Here you are, I had some ham left from yesterday, and this is a glass of my brandy. It’s helped ease my aches for many years now.”
“Thank you,” Francisco said as he took the plate and glass, “But I must know, where do you fit into all this?”
“I don’t know how much you know, or how much I am allowed to tell, so just leave it that I’m an old friend of hers.”
“Why all the secrets? Who were those men last night and why were they after her?”
“I am sorry, Francisco, I really am, but I cannot say anymore about this, please don’t ask me anything more. Once she gets back we will see what will happen.”
Francisco sipped the brandy, feeling it burn down his throat. The sound of a door closing reached the bedroom. Benantio reached down and drew a dagger from his right boot. He looked to Francisco and whispered. “Be ready.”
Francisco put the plate and crystal down and rose to his feet. Still confused he heard the footfalls coming up the stairs, then the words “Swift be his anger.” Benantio sighed relaxed his guard replying, “And swifter his mercy.” Three more footsteps, then the door opened and she walked in. Her hair was back in a bun and she wore a flowing green dress cut just above the ankle, which showed her black leather walking boots. Benantio sheathed the dagger and hugged her.
“Bless you, child, but I was scared to death when Louis showed up last night with Francisco here and told me you needed to see me, what happened”?
“I am sorry Vincent, but I didn’t know who else to turn to. They found me, I don’t know how; three of them jumped me last night. If it were not for that man they would have had me too.” She looked at Benantio and a strange expression came over her “Vincent, how do you know his name? I don’t even know it.”
“This is Francisco he is a student of mine”.
“Student? What are you talking about Vincent”?
“I teach the art of the sword, as I once taught you”.
Francisco watched the exchange in total confusion. Until he finally had to join in, the stack of questions was becoming too much to bear.
“Benantio, why does she call you Vincent, who is she, who were the men last night, who is this ‘they’ you’re talking about, and how do you know her?”
They both stopped and look at Francisco. Benantio closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose then looked back at the woman.
“Should we tell him?”
“Well I owe him that much at least.” She replied. “Do you want the honors as your know him better then I?”
“As you wish, my lady,” Benantio said.
He and the woman settled into chairs and Francisco took his seat back on the bed.
“As you know I was once an Adjutant Chef in the legions. I was well respected having proven myself a man of tactics and very capable with the sword and the rifle, but I was wounded in a skirmish with the British. Up north, as I was in the hospital ready to leave back for my unit, a general came to me and told me he had an assignment for me, and that I could tell no one about it. I was to take on a ward and that there was a large group of people who wished her dead. I agreed as I was honored to have been chosen for this mission, the next day I was met by two men as I left the hospital they lead me to a carriage and we rode back here, to Paris. That was where I first met her and that was when my life changed. Before my name was Vincent Pointe and I had been born and raised here in France; after that day my name was Jacques Benantio, born in Italy, and having only recently moved here to Paris. The paperwork was filed that I died from the wound I had taken; my family was told this as well. I was given money for a house, clothes and anything else I needed. I took…” He stopped and looked at her “Yours too”? He asked
“Everything, he will need to know, he’s involved now.”
“I took Anita De’leon here in as my daughter, she was only seven then. But her very existence is a scandal she was born to our Queen Dona, then only a duchess but newlywed, and to a cardinal, a man who is now pope Pious, the King of course found out and covered it up, going against all his advisors, he could not kill the baby, he was never that cruel, but he knew that none of this must ever get out to the people. One of his advisors, the general who spoke to me in the hospital, came up with the plan. The king gave his approval and so here we are”.
“But” Francisco asked, “Who are the men who were after her?”
“Oh, I left that out didn’t I? Well, as you may or may not know, there are many factions at work here in France to throw down the king, and the whole system we live in. Most are nothing but a handful of angry peasants, but a few do have the money and men to cause problems. One of these got word somehow of what happened and saw this as a way to humiliate both the king and the pope. But to make it work they needed proof; they needed Anita. Many times they have found us and many times we have run, all over France, Spain, even Italy once, but the men after us are good and have always caught up to us. Then almost eight years ago we came back here to Paris and they apparently didn’t follow. I bought this house, but she was nineteen then and I had taught her all I knew of the sword, the gun, and the knife. So I called in some favors from people I trusted from the legion. People loyal to crown, country, god and above all me, or Vincent at least. I set up safe houses for her all over Paris. The men all knew enough to keep their mouths shut about the situation, I didn’t tell them everything, but they trusted me. And so the years past we saw each other less and we both became careless thinking we had finally left the nightmares behind us. So, I thank you, Francisco for taking care of Anita for me and I am sorry for getting you involved in this but you will not be safe anymore, the men saw your face and will be after you too now.”
Francisco sat stunned at this, everything he had come to know about Benantio, or should he say Vincent, was a lie and now just like Vincent he had met this woman and now his life was going to change. A crash downstairs brought them all to their feet Vincent shouted.
“Run! Francisco, I entrust her to you, I will hold them as long as I can” with that he drew the dagger back out of the sheath and grabbed the small wooden stool from beside the bed. Anita pulled a small pistol from her dress as Francisco forces open the window.
“Go Anita, I’ll be right behind” said Francisco
She looked out the window “goodbye Vincent” her voice was thick with sadness as she climbed out and dropped to the roof below.
“Goodbye my friend” Francisco whispered, as he too dropped down out the window.
Vincent faces the door the sounds of pounding feet growing closer, “So the day has finally come, to give my life for king and country.” hefting the stool in his hand he looks down at the sinewy fingers, still quick but with none of the suppleness of youth clenched around the wooden leg, the crash of his house being ransacked echoes from behind the staircase door. “But I have my orders, hold the line. By god I shall.” the crashes quiets and he can hear the squeaky third step of the bedroom stairs give off its call again. I didn’t let the British pass on that hill, he thought, and I stall let no man past me so long as I have air in my lungs and strength in my hands. “Steady men,” he said, the British were advancing up the hill, his men were low on rounds from days of fighting. “Steady, don’t waste your ammo, let them come to you. Make every shot count.” The door bursts open, Vincent hurls the stool through the doorway hitting one man in the face, another appears thrusting at Jamie with a sword. He twisted, letting the blade pass where he just was. Stepping forward he grabbed the hilt and thrust with the dagger. It went in just below the ribcage, a mortal wound, but the man didn’t loosen his grip on the sword. Just a little longer, he thought, if I can just buy them a little longer. Another figure filled the doorway behind the corpse Vincent hung on too. Ripping the dagger free he let go of the sword and rushed the man, the glint of steel, Vincent dodged, his side flashed with a cold fire, but he took no notice, his dagger slicing here and there. My, I’m getting slower, he thought vaguely; I’ll have to work on that. Again and again the feeling of pain flashed across parts of his body, but still he bore the cuts no heed. Damn these infernal Brits, he thought as the world slowly faded from his sight, for king and country, just a little longer.
The police found the scene later that day. The door was broken and the house was ransacked, six men lay dead upstairs with the signs of a struggle very present, the owner of the house, one Jacques Benantio was among the dead, though police were surprised to find a smile on the old man’s cut and torn face. The death of Don Benantio was never linked to the disappearance of one of his students, Francisco Saviolo, and the police remained baffled as to the events of that night.
——Toledo, Spain, Two years later.——
The Spanish sun was high up in the clear blue sky as the quiet still of the day was broken, broken by a long crying shriek as Senor José Costels and his wife Maria welcomed into the world their son, Vincent Benantio Costels. They never answered the questions from the midwife and neighbors about why they named their son what they did, but there was always a tear in their eyes when they turned away from the question.
The Changing Of the Age
It all started for me about two weeks ago. We were driving back from our weekend out in Boston we bar hopped with some friend from MIT, I don’t remember where now but that’s hardly important, a lot has happened since then. I was driving, Matt and Chris were in the back. Somewhere on Rt.95 by Portland, we had our first taste of what was to come.
“The rabbit hole, man, the goddamned rabbit hole is back again.” Matt was jabbering and looking out the window.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chris asked.
“Look, its right there.” Matt was pointing outside towards the passing trees. “The rabbit is there next to it.”
“Shut the fuck up man, stop it, you’re freaking me out.”
“He wants me to go with him. Hold on, I’m coming.” His hand was trying to get the door latch to work.
“No! Matt, what are you doing?” It was too late. Matt pulled the latch and, despite, the 98-mile-an-hour wind, pushed the door open. “Don’t leave without me.” he mumbled, and he stepped out of the car.
“Oh God! Jesus Christ! Christ! No! no, no,”
I slammed on the brakes the tires kicked up clouds of blue smoke as they locked up and the Olds came to a stop sideways facing a buckle up safety sign. We stopped almost half a mile down the road. “What the fuck just happened?” I demanded.
“He jumped out.”
“Jesus.” I spun the car around and drove back down the interstate, not many people are out at 3A.M. I noticed, lucky us. The headlights lit the grizzly scene of our friend, the limp form rag dolled on the road.
“God, he’s dead.” Chris moaned.
I ignored him and stopped beside the body.
“I’m going to put him in the trunk, no way the cops won’t pin this on me” I said as I stepped out.
He wasn’t a pretty sight, most of his skin was gone, and all three of his limbs looked broken and hung at odd angles. I couldn’t see his left leg anywhere, but I didn’t stick around to look for it. The sky was lit with a vast glowing ribbon I knew it was till to far south for the aurora and I could have sworn it was a clear night before, but I had to push it aside, now was not the time for star gazing or metrological pontifications. By the time I had gotten back into the car, Chris was rocking back and forth in his seat and not looking well.
“Okay, look Chris, we are going to make it back to Farmington okay, we will make it back.” No reaction followed. Oh well he’ll last, I thought, He’s tough. I drove off into the swirling green blue night. The dreams started a few hours after that.
“John, John, wake up John. Its here you know John. Your life is over. Your world has changed. Open your eyes and see. You can’t hide from it. It knows when your are sleeping, it knows when your awake, it knows when you’ve been bad or good, so fight for god’s sake.” It was a strange voice, almost like Matt’s but different. That’s when I felt cold and looked around. I was in my bed, but not in my room. The roof disappeared and a black shape hung there. A voice came from it; at least it was the only source for the voice I could see, it sounded like it was all around me.
“The master wants you, little one”
Then a hand formed out of it, and smashed me and my bed into oblivion.
I sat bolt upright soaked with sweat. I didn’t have a clue what it meant. I just wanted to stay awake. I went out to the car to get the rest of my stuff from the past night and noticed Matt was starting to smell, got to do something about this, before it becomes a big issue, I had to get rid of the body. I drove out to the woods and dumped him in a campgrounds dumpster. It was close enough to winter that he should be fine there, away from people for the season. As I was walking away, I heard a voice call out to me.
“You felt it didn’t you? The darkness. It calls to you. It weighs on you. Its whispers tug your mind and pulls at your soul.”
“Matt? Is that you?”
“Yes, listen John, I’m fighting it on this side the white rabbit and I will do what we can. You, Chris, and Steve must help stop it here in this realm. Stop the darkness from spreading.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Samhain draws nigh. The cycle of the age comes to an end, and all things are breaking before the renewal. This world will not last much longer as it is. Make peace with what gods you will if you so choose but do so quickly; time is short and you have much to do. The ancient dead are rising; the evil once more soaks the land. The end is near; death will be followed by birth. If you do not stop the shadow, the world to come will be under his domain. Get to Steve; it will try to take him next. Hurry!”
There are precious few choices for a man when he starts hearing voices from the corpse of his dead friend, I know I wasn’t still drunk, and I didn’t think I was going nuts, but then I was dumping a body in a dumpster, a case could be made, for me though I believed Matt. Steve was our friend from Orono. He was a bit of a nut job, no fuck that. He was completely nuts, just the kind of person who’d buy this kind of story without batting an eye. He been brought up Baptist, whole nine years too, father was a minister mom sung in the choir, Steve bought into it too, church every Sunday, bible group Tuesday and Thursday evenings, that’s what made him hooking up and moving in with that swinger couple last month so screwed up, none of us thought it would last. Turns out we were right. When I got back to the house, Steve was already there, with a story even worse than ours, the darkness Matt mentioned had already tried to take him. Any other day we would have run as far from him as we could have, today we sat and listened, this is what he told us.
“The sex had been going on for a few weeks now, there were seven of us, the black taint of sin dripped from our wretched souls. I knew it but did not care, who would? You saw those girls last time you visited. But today the faces of the others had become withdrawn, angular, twisted, their eyes tinged with red. I think Satan had them; it will not be long ‘til he tried for my soul I knew. I saw them die, I didn’t kill them when I pulled that trigger, and you could tell they had stopped being among the living before the bullet put their body to rest. I pulled the trigger again and again, painting the walls of that accursed place with their sin and darkness, until they were all dead on the ground, then I turned the gun on myself. But the Lord spared me; the gun had given everything it had to free the others from their slavery, God made sure I could not succumb to my weakness like that. Then I saw one of the girls begin to move, she was crawling on the ground towards me. The gun had not been enough. I kicked at her but she still moved, she must have been the first he possessed for her power was strong. I beat at her with the gun and still she moved, so I stepped on her neck ‘til I felt the bone break. That stopped the sin, the evil in flesh form. The abominations that lay before me were free, free of the evil. I knew, the voice of the lord told me told me, I had to get here to you and warn you of the coming of the darkness.”
I told him about what Matt’s spirit had said to me from the dumpster as I was getting rid of his body. Chris looked at me
“But Matt’s dead, we both saw him die, remember?”
“His body is dead, yes, but the rabbit took his sprit and they fight still in the other worlds to hold the darkness back.”
Steve took some convincing about the whole white rabbit aspect, he didn’t much like god being called a rabbit, but in the end he came around. The lord works in mysterious ways after all. He left us at that point to wash the taint and blood from his clothing, I was glad to have him with us; he would fight the shadow till his final breath.
That night we all slept in my room, we couldn’t trust anyone and didn’t want to be apart, not that it would madder. I was in my bed, sweat dripping off me; the fear and excitement were over powering, I heard a gasp and looked over, Steve pointing across to where Chris went to sleep. When I looked over I saw what Steve was pointing at. Chris was no longer there, in his place was a beast, its’ seven heads looking all ways at once, and the ten crowned horns pointed upwards and gleamed in the pale moonlight. Its’ bear paws clawing at the floor, its’ leopard spotted body twisting amidst the sea of sheets which once held Chris. From its lions’ mouths rose a thunderous sound, it was a sound like that of millions of tormented souls crying out in agony. The scream turned into that of a single voice screaming out in pain. Steve and I awoke to find Chris thrashing in his bed, his hands clawing at his eyes. We both knew he had been taken; there was nothing we could do for him.
“Steve, follow me, I have my hunting gear in the garage.”
He nodded and we left the room. The screams could still be heard from downstairs, making a stark contrast to the quiet still of the October morning outside.
I unlocked the cabinet and Steve and I readied a pair of shotguns we were just finishing loading when Matt faded into view again.
“Samhain is tomorrow, all souls day, all hallows eve, the veils between the worlds are thinner then, more so then any other time. That aurora on the night of my death is partly the cause; it’s a sign of a rip in the fabric separating the worlds from the emptiness between them. But it’s not empty, the things that live between realities are known well by mankind, where do you think the void that Lucifer was cast into was? The demons of nightmares, the tools of evil are coming forth. It’s only going to be worse from here. Clear your hearts and be steadfast in purpose, for the darkness will try to overwhelm us all today, so that on the next dawn the world becomes his and He will step forth from his exile on to all the worlds once again. Go now and Chris needs you, I will do what I can to help you”
We took the stairs two at a time up to the room. It was a mess inside. Chris had smeared blood across the floor and walls, his face was ripped to shreds by his own hands. Trails of white jelly ran down his face from where his eyes once were.
“He is with me now.” Boomed a deep, omnipresent voice. “My servant he shall be, for all time.” Darkness flooded into the room, we saw the sun being consumed by shadow, turning the world black as night, as black as the robes of death. A new light began to fill the room, the red moon rose above the horizon, all was colored as blood, the corpse of Chris rose up as if a hand had pulled him from a sleep, arms and head hung limp.
“You will be my slaves, before this night is finished.” As the voice spoke Chris’ head rose up, his empty eyes burned bright as flame. The roof blasted upwards and we were cast out, into the vile darkness.
We awoke still under a black sun, but not as we were. Clothed in white we were, outfitted in robes of cotton. Our guns were turned before our eyes to swords of fire. A new voice spoke to us
“My children, you have become my champions, your friend is helping me already. There is much still that you two have to do.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am all that which was, that which is, and all that which will be. You all have names for me, and worship what you think I am.”
“Are you god?” asked Steve.
“That is one name some call me, I am Allah, I am Terra, I am Moloch, I am everything.”
We both kneeled and bowed our heads.
“What would you ask of us?”
“There from which you came is in danger, much evil flows in the land, I would see it as it once was, as I had made it. Do this then, drive the evil from the land, fight the darkness from the hearts of men.”
“The power has flowed from thy hand, and our feet shall carry out your demand.” We both spoke the words without knowing what we were saying; we simply knew it was what to say. After we spoke, the world once again flashed before us, and we were back in the room with Chris. The sky above was full of streaks of light, for it could no longer hold the weight of the shadow, and was beginning to fall. We were still garbed in the robes, the swords still in our hands. We could feel the power flowing through us.
The voice from Chris spoke again. “Your master no longer has the power to stop me, too long has he ruled this place, too long has his light blinded my eyes, his age has come to a close, his power gone, this is my time now.”
He advanced towards us. From his hands came whips of flame and he was encased in fire. We raised our swords and started towards him. As we moved we became aware that we were no longer on the ground, but in the sky. The world looked small beneath us, but as I looked I saw the people of earth fighting the forces of the shadow, the spawn of this creature in front of us killing our brothers and sisters. We did battle with him there, in the sky, above the earth, and the people did battle with the monsters upon the land, the forces of the world united against the dark one, and did battle on the sea and in the air. Dragons danced with planes below us. Great hydras and serpents rose from the depths to meet submarines and warships. All of mankind became as one joined together with us as we fought. It lasted for that day and till midnight of the next. This was it, the end of the age. The earth was scorched and ravaged. Then Steve fell, struck down by the fiery lashes but as he fell his Sword pierced the fire and impaled the darkness. Both fell to the earth. Steve landed on the earth and where he fell mountains rose. The beast fell to the sea and the water boiled, sending a great cloud of steam into the air.
I was left standing alone among the clouds, looking down, I saw the people rejoice. I could not hear it. All around me was quite and serene. The sun shone once more, the blood moon sank back to the eternal night. And a white glow began to surround me. I could see something in the glow I embraced it and allowed it to enter me, and life was mine. Next to me appeared Matt, Steve, and the rabbit I now knew as the old God.
“We are leaving,” said the rabbit, “this world is yours now, and you shall rule it till the darkness again is loosed. When that time comes, Champions will rise up to do battle for you, as I did lifetimes ago for my God. We must go; this is not the only realm the shadow attacked. Battles are still being fought.”
And so they were gone. The stroke of midnight brought with it a new age, my age. I have written this book as a record of the ending of the time past, and the birth of a new era. The childhood fears we all have of monsters, and things we cannot see under beds, and in closets are true. Evil will always walk the land. Be ever vigilant.
You have been warned.
|Sunday, March 15th, 2009|
Well hello all I'm amazed my account still works as it's been over a year since I last logged in. I still here, here on LJ, here in college, here in the near constant state of confusion I have been in for the past 4ish years. Can't really tell you why I'm posting again, I'm sitting in the union computer cluster trying to type away on a paper that, if I fuck up, will end my college career here at umaine and as is normal for me is due tomorrow in about 17 hours and i'm no where close to done. Unlike my old days I'm not slightly drunk(yet), though there is a nice bottle of 10 year old bourbon sitting at home if I wished it. I think I mostly just wanted to start writing and hope that somehow it would jump start the academic mind I keep chained up somewhere in the back of my brain. If I had more time I'd look back over the postings I've made and comment on how I've changed or how I felt about what I was thinking back then, but I'm on a deadline. One thing I do notice is that while you who will be maybe reading with will not see the number of spelling errors I have made you will see that I have at least grasped the concept of punctuation; However, I have by no means mastered it. To show I care you'll have noticed my user pic is now back to the calligraphy of something I do not remember, but which is much more SFW then the woman's nude moving butt, the naked upper half of the asian girl clearly having sex or the rather attractive topless lady running her hands up her body. Since I started this Journal I'm on my 4'th computer, my 4'th car and my 4'th building draw from that what ever you will. I'm sorry to make my returning post so brief I'd really like to go on longer but I think some new ideas are percolating up there so I'll be off to try them out.
Goodbye for now whoever still has me on their lists I'll try not to be gone so long next time.
|Friday, February 15th, 2008|
|New computer on the way
So its time I moved in to the new computing world. i have just build and bought a new pc off new egg.
2.4 AMD Athlon 64 X2 4600+ cooled with copper/aluminum heatsink and 90mm fan
2x 2 gig dual channel ddr 533 pc4200 sticks 4 gigs total
512mb ati radion x 1650pro video card
320gig sata 3gig/sec hard drive
550watt power supply
all to be mounted on a easy to overclock BIOSTAR TA770 A2+ AMD 770 ATX Motherboard
maybe this will all get here before break on the 29th maybe it'll be here when I get back but by the time classes start again i will be rocking the new computer hard core. thank you newegg!
|Thursday, February 7th, 2008|
|Monday, December 31st, 2007|
|quizzy (from sam)
The Five Love Languages
My primary love language is probablyPhysical Touch
with a secondary love language beingQuality Time
Complete set of results
|Physical Touch: || ||12|
|Quality Time: || ||8|
|Acts of Service: || ||4|
|Receiving Gifts: || ||3|
|Words of Affirmation: || ||3|
Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.Take the quiz
|Thursday, December 6th, 2007|
|Tagged from sam
A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
1. I'm often more scared then I let on.
2. I never really lose feelings for anyone, anyone I have loved, I love now as much as I ever have.
3. I like some country songs
4. I fall in love at first sight.
5. I often think I am fat.
6. I tend to drink to much.
7. Despite my fear of marriage I wish to have a family one day, though fear I will not be able to fulfill that dream.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
Amy, Bryan, Wolf, Andrew, Charlene, Chii, ? .
|Sunday, November 18th, 2007|
|Golden Gem of the 70's
Yesterday I found what could be the funniest movie ever made. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074113/
Having downloaded and watched the film, it really is what it says a singing, dancing romp through a x-rated wonderland. As this is from the 70's the girls and guys are all real and normal looking, in fact the girl playing Alice is quite cute. I'll work on sharing this overlooked classic as best I can.
"well if it feels good theres a good chance it must be bad"
"Alice if it feels good it is good learn to trust yourself"
|Saturday, November 10th, 2007|
Last August I made a post about my Great-uncle Fred, Well I am sad to say that this Thursday he past peacefuly during the night at the age of 96. He was the last of his generation in my family after my great-Grandmother, who left three years ago at 95. He was and is a role model for me on how to live life to its fullest and enjoy every day, and how to not let your age tell you how old you are. http://www.legacy.com/providence/Obituaries.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonID=97607965
You will be missed and remembered.
|Monday, September 17th, 2007|
|back in black
alone here at home feeling very sad and lost my family is away in oregon seeing my brother off to school, the pugs are boarded for the week.
"where are the pugs that were barking, where is the warmth of the family, i don't have anytime anymore."
and i will be going to work for the next 3 or 4 days in a row and sleeping on the boat, but the boat is all wrong the carol jean is not for me the energy is messed up not evil or bad but wrong it sets me adrift inside the nights i stay i spend in bars or passed out somewhere on the boat, i don't drink alone i drink with those i like and trust, its all the people i never liked in high school and college rolled in to a crew, about a month to a month and a half left now till the end of the boat run, hope i can stay grounded long enough to make it.
|Sunday, August 12th, 2007|
|on the stupidity and calous cruilness of man
so today i find that someone on the other team on my boat is a ax murderer or will be, they tested the penetration of a steel fire axe on various things in our crew quarters the fridge, the steel safe, the steel bulkheads both walls and ceiling, a wooden door, and a bed. they mostly used the pearcing pick end save for 4 or 5 good sized bade marks in the wall. as a result of this we can no longer use the crews quarters thanks stupid person. after that there was the normal human stupitity of drunken people save for one real fucker who put their tiny kitten in a freight box, it was in a little cat carrier but thsis is freight its loaded and unloaded by stupid brazillians on forklifts who go fast over bumps and bounce the loads around fucking people, had i not been cleaning dried chunky puke off the walls and floor of the cabin i would have hand carried the poor thing off. really people why also if we have a sign up that says " NO BOOZE SERVED ON THIS TRIP" please don't ask if that includes wine or just assume that beer isn't alchaol and order it anyway after just reading the sign or as you are reading the sign.
thus ends my rant
now i must to bed with me as i have a long drive to go to tomotrrow and a wedding to attent at the end of it glad i'll be having a nice bottle of sailor jerry 92 proof rum with me to see me through. and sorry andrew i don't think i'm going to try and pull the jolite jake look as the black suit coats give me that "big man in a little coat look though i will bring it along with the pants in case i wanna try it so bring that hats just in case.
|Monday, July 2nd, 2007|
i think after long study i have discovered why i like lesbian porn, the girls seem to be enjoying themselves more and are more playful about sex rather then normal porn where there is a lot of disrespect, donanince, and a harsher attitude. most times if theres name calling in a lesbian video its in a joking way also theres a stronger focus on kissing and foreplay and general enjoyment for all parties involved and to my eye there looks to be less faking in girl on girl least when the girls actually like girls and arn't just there for the money.
|Sunday, July 1st, 2007|
its easy to see how people thought the world was flat out on the sea. withe the flat bottom clouds above you marking the top of the world and the oceans streaching out beyond the end of your sight its easy to imaging us just living in a layer of the world only so high and so wide all round us. yes all i'm back on the boat my first 59 hour week is done i'm dirty tiored and sore, 2 more days of working then lots of 4th of july drinking then a few days later driving miss jenny
so avast ya skirvy swine i be back at sea!
|Sunday, June 17th, 2007|
|I'm back after a long wait
I'm back on the ocean again. worked a 10 and a half hour day today, felt just like i never left. picking up 40+ hours Monday-Thursday this week then a day off then my normal 3 on 3 off i think, no on knows for sure when we will settle down into the normal routine yet. The day was so beautiful that even the sore back, salt stiffened hands, and burned face feel like blessings. i have the short days for the next 2 weeks only 7:50am to 6:30pm which is good cause my mind remembers the fun times and my body remembers the work. least this way it can get use to it before we start the 7:50am-9:30 or 10:30pm shifts around the 4th.
well a salty farewell for now :)
|Thursday, June 7th, 2007|
this summer I am being flown out to sunny California to visit a old friend I have not seen in quite a while, i am quite looking foward to it as I have missed her the past year or 2.
Have you ever loved someone, saw yourself with them in the future, but lost them through your own stupidity? It a horrible feeling and I hope none of you have to know it. I loved her more then I knew, more then I could express then, and I still do. I can't do anything about it cause she found someone who could treat her better then I did and she is happy. I am truly happy for her, but I know that I'll have a empty hole in me for a long time, even if I find a new girl it's not going to be the same. I can wish I'd done things better all I want but none of them are going to matter no amount of wishing will put things back the way they were nor would I want to take her away from who she has.
Well thats me for now. Current Mood: melancholy
|Sunday, June 3rd, 2007|
I have decided to try to look like the tanned guys at the side of the road with no shirts and muscles that girls whistle at from moving cars. By the end of summer maybe I too will be a symbol of socially acceptable male hotness to be cat called at from speeding cars. well current weight is 230 I'm thinking maybe 200-210 would look better, who knows... well talk to you all later.