Soap Boxes and Microscopes

On the occasion that some know-it-all televangelist recants the biblical account of creation. He does not speak for all of us.
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Soapboxes and Microscopes

We know so much.
The earth is round.
Elliptical orbits.
DNA’s double helix laid bare.
Higgs Boson making matter matter.
Dinosaurs and Carbon Dating.
Global Warming, BHT, DDT.
All for what?

Nothing.

Conceit, arrogance.
We’re so crass, so fucking smart.
Ants.
Crawling through the endless black chaos of the universe.
Insignificant little hotheads, with our electron microscopes and particle colliders.

Meanwhile, here on our minuscule little rock, we murder each other in droves.
Enslave, degrade, rape each other.
We’re racist, sexist, speciesist.

Science is our god.
Reason is the reason we go on.

Love, hope, mystery... sacrificed on the altar of science.
In their place: money, knowledge, and power.
Aren’t they making us so happy?

We lack imagination, we whitewash our children’s brains, and cookie cut the bits that stand out.

We are continually learning more and more and more...
We are learning how very unimportant we truly are.
That is, if it’s really all about our flow-charts and subversive, transcendent realism... we are well and truly fucked.

Standing ovation, modern man.
Thanks for everything.
I'm glad you think you know so much.

Happenstance

Intrinsic
Insanity
Eccentricity

Madness
Sadness
Serendipity

The occasion
Of coincidence
And heartfelt sympathy

Regret
Second thoughts
Third thoughts
Obsession

The Cave, the Cove

This morning I had the distinct impression that we, being the human race, are still in Plato’s cave: dancing away the hours in the darkness. Outside, the sun is somewhat overcast, and the green ocean waves crash on the beach. An old fisherman walks the coastline, lost in the memory of the day that the sea devoured his wife and daughter. Meanwhile in the attic bedroom of a small suburban house, a boy is learning about sex with the neighbor girl. The soft afternoon sunlight filters in through the window, warming the feather top bed. Her father is an astronaut, who stands outside at night looking into the darkness with his sky blue eyes. He knows that if the earth is a cove, then the answers must lie in the outer blackness.

A Conspiracy Theorist's Wet Dream

Titular Titles
Of top secret files
MK Ultra and War Games
Mind Control and Satellites
Zombies, Cyborgs, Missiles
All organized by some guy
Whose name is Giles

Dust and rust are piled
On these 50’s cabinets
The world goes on not knowing jack
The cover ups are all ate up
They taste of uncreative lies
And eternity slowly forgets

Destiny's Design

Thurundum rund
Drun derun thrund
Thurundum Rund
Durat durat thrund

Oaks and river deep
Hills and mountains steep
Mines and catacombs roam
Beneath the ground under my feet

Rattatat thurat trat
Rattatat trat thurat
Durat thrum tratat
Burat tratat tat

Dragons fire burns red
Talons walk o’re the dead
Spears are broken splinters
And the smoke obscures its head

Thurundum rund
Drun derun thrund
Thurundum Rund
Durat durat thrund

Stars and comets shine
As the planets all align
But destiny is nothing
Because these choices are all mine

Over My Head

Just spent six hours creating what is probably an overtly modern, boringly minimalistic design for the cover for our inkWELL first edition book: Ghosts. I love it, I hope you all feel the same. :)

Truly Awesome

Warning: Scientific accuracy is not guaranteed. Please do not use this visualization for interstellar navigation.

http://workshop.chromeexperiments.com/stars/

Lardo's Gang

Instinctively, Robert knew that he was going to die. In fact, he knew that probably, everyone was going to die. But in particular, he was going to die even sooner than most because that large man had a shotgun shoved down his throat. Robert gagged, not from the metal pipe in his esophagus, but because the large man smelled like a barrel of dead fish. Which made sense, because the fat man had chased him all the way from the fish market; which was a miracle in itself.
There were three other fishmongers behind Lardo. Robert didn't know this, but their names were Aesop, Shaver, and Smokeface. I'm not making this up, these were hard dudes.
Lardo was wearing a sweatsuit, with a pile of gold and silver bling adorning his baggy neck. Aesop was as thin as a rail, with rat-like features, and tiny eyes. Timer has it, he killed his little brother in a shoot out with the FBI. Shaver was a skanky hoodied-up crack addict who paves knives.

And Smokeface was always shrouded in a haze of ever present cigarette smoke, so no one really knew what he looked like. Except that his hands were old, and his fingernails were very yellow. He flicked a silver zippo habitually. On, the off. Open, closed.

Intrigue...

So,
I was flipping through the site stats for this blog, turns out that I have had over 700 page views, but most of them are from these weird websites which track stats for other websites. Bizarre huh? You ain't seen nothin' yet! At the bottom of my stats page is a section which lets me see how people are finding my website by key word search. This was one of the strings which led someone to discover this site:

blond hung by ankles from tree

Spooky, huh? And the strange thing is that I don't even have anything on this site which particularly matches that grouping of ghastly verbs and nouns.
Maybe I should write a story about this...

Or maybe not.
G

P.S. I did a Google search using exactly that phrasing. I wouldn't suggest it! Anyway, sure as taxes, there on page four of the results; I see a link to my blog, with this excerpt beneath it:

The girl was lithe and beautiful, with long flowing blond hair, and ... if you tell him anything I shall have you hung from the trees by your ankles!

How surreal is that? I guess that means I'm off the hook as far as writing a story containing those words!

END

Disclaimer

Hello,
I am a writer.

Sometimes, I am going to say and write words like

Fuck and
Shit and
Titties

Right now, it may seem crass...
But when I'm famous and a best selling author students somewhere will be like, 'It's so gritty, he curses so artistically in his writing, and it adds realism to the story and the characters."
For now, you'll just have to understand that I'm a human and therefore have sharp edges and will sometime express that through writing. And sometimes it will be pointless, and I will do it just because.

So, there.

G

the Incestuous Offspring

My Submission for Chapter Four of: http://odysseyproject.deviantart.com/

The two were inseparable. Like hatred and malice, or envy and wrath. They had waited in the dark places for eons; swirling in the ocean’s currents, and hiding in the darkness between  the stars. They waited, as they had seen modeled by patient wolves and ambushing spiders on the puny rock below.

The fleshy inhabitants of that dank little orb disgusted them. Crawling like ants all over its surface, directionless, purposeless. A swarm of soft shelled insects trying to keep the night at bay.

Silently, the sisters waited. Until a realization dawned in their vast and perfidious minds. These tiny beings were hollow. Like eggs, they could suck out the gooey insides and fill their fragile shells with something altogether more terrifying. 

Their moment had come. 

Holding hands, they stepped into reality, and crawled from the dank fishy depths. 

Instinctively, the sisters knew what had to be done. Their time in the black places had not been wasted. They had marveled at the power of viral life forms, and recognized their superior power and adaptability. The sisters hatched a plan. 

 A son must be born, and they wasted no time finding the nearest shells and emptying them. A new Adam and Eve walked the earth, and their offspring was incepted that night. 

A child lay thrashing on his parents’ carpet, who in turn lay dead nearby. The sisters were drinking them like a chunky pink slushy, as they watched from the sofa a few feet away. These vessels would not last long. Chunks of skin and muscle were blackening and shedding away. New forms must be found, and the sisters reasoned that stronger, tougher humans meant longer burn times. One turned to the other, their minds separating and pulling apart. The untwining hurt, but they knew that splitting up increased their baby’s odds of a full, healthy term. 

Finally, the small boy stopped convulsing. His skin swirled like an oil slick, an inky rainbow of unearthly colors writhing beneath the surface. The carpet was ruined.

Now, Lysanna sat on the bed in the dark. Horror twisted her already mangled features into a mask of unearthly wrath. She saw clearly now, between the mirrors, that her sister Maya was doing something to their baby’s growth. She began to shake violently, and knew that another  body was required. She concluded that the housekeeper in the hall would serve her purposes for now.

Her twin was trapped. The one called Maya was something new. Instead of shattering like glass, her human soul had somehow stayed intact through the infection process. They were both crammed inside, and for the first time since the invasion, doubts began to grow in the sister’s conscious thoughts.

END

The Beast Below

You should read the revised version of "the Request" below.
I think I'm in love.

Skip "the Sycamore Tree" for now, it's mangled and needs reconstructive surgery. :)
G

Spoilers...

For those of you who don't know, this movie is based on an awesome book which all started on a blog just like this one...

http://www.johndies.com/
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1783732/
http://johndiesattheend.com/

The Sycamore Tree

Softly, the fallen leaves rustled in the wake of a small breeze. The trees were dead, and the sky grey. Quiet hung over the wood in the chill of that late autumn afternoon.
Carefully, between the trees, a shadow flitted. Light contrasted against the zigzag pattern of the naked sentinels. A spirit stole around their fragile branches. Abigail shifted to the right, just so. Her silver streaming hair shimmered in the waning sunlight. Like ripples in a river quickly dive and swirl, her ghostly form shimmered and reflected in the air.

Young, golden laughter broke the stony silence. Abigail stopped. Glancing quickly around, her eyes spotted an adolescent couple vivaciously trudging through the forest.
The boy was tall, gangly and awkward. He had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a crazy mop of rusty blond hair, and a broken pair of glasses balanced precariously on his nose. Nervously, he readjusted his glasses, and habitually pulled at the sleeves of his denim jacket.
The girl was lithe and beautiful, with long flowing blond hair, and startlingly blue eyes. She was awkward too, but the freckle stricken boy would never notice. Her scarf was snuggled close to her porcelain neck and chin, her nose and cheeks pink in the biting wind. Holding hands, they timidly giggled as they wandered further into the maze of trees.

Abigail was intrigued. Rarely did anyone sojourn this far into her backyard, and she needed to know why. Curiosity was what kept Abigail from dwelling on the piercing loneliness of her current state throughout the seasons and through the years. Often, she would perch high in the trees and watch the forest critters steal amongst the undergrowth, or watch the wolves stealthy stalk their unsuspecting prey. Above all, the bears were her favorite. Their ambling and laconic ways so cleverly hid their tremendous speed and strength. Without a sound, she stole closer.

The boy pulled at his sleeves. They were never long enough to adequately cover his wrists. The girl leaned in and whispered something in his ear. A blush broke out across his face, and his ear warmed at the words. “Cadence!” He halfheartedly reprimanded. “If your dad heard you talking that way!”
“He never will.” She brazenly proclaimed. “Because if you tell him anything I shall have you hung from the trees by your ankles!” She nudged him playfully. “Anyway, I’m never going back to that place.”
“What are you talking about?” He asked, confused.
“I’m running away tonight, and I’m never going back.” She raised her chin in the air. “That’s why I brought you out here. To say goodbye.”
The boy stopped walking. “Goodbye? You can’t be serious! You don’t have anywhere to go!”
“I’m going to live in this forest.” She announced.
“How will you survive? You’re being ridiculous! You didn’t even bring anything with you!”
“Well, Jeremy. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t really need anything. I’m going to strip naked and become a Wiccan. I will live off the land, and dance with the bears and eat berries for the rest of my life.”
Jeremy’s face turned redder still. He stammered, abashed. “That’s insane!” His voice broke. Genuine concern flooded his green eyes.
“Yes, silly.” She smiled carelessly. “I’m just messing with you! Honestly! You need to learn how to take a joke! Lighten up!” She laughed aloud. The sound was like silver church bells and singing birds. “Holy crap! You actually believed me?”
Jeremy couldn’t make eye contact. He pushed up his glasses in frustration. “It’s not funny! You’re supposed to be...”
“Supposed to be what?”
“I don’t know... good and stuff.”
“Good?  I always have to be good. My dad won’t let me do anything! And your mom is even worse. That’s why you’re such a prude.” She winked. “When was the last time you did something you wanted to do? Just because?”
“I’m not a prude!” He was clearly flustered.
“Prove it.” She winked. “Do something... distasteful.”

Abigail leaned in. This was the most interesting thing to happen since the bears were hunting salmon earlier in the fall. A flock of geese flew noisily overhead. All three looked skyward.

Jeremy pushed his shoulders back and peered into her blue eyes for a clue. “Like what, exactly?”
“I don’t know!” She giggled. “Cuss or something!”
“What? No! My mom would kill me!”
“My mom would kill me!” Cadence mocked playfully. “See? You’re such a mama’s boy.”
“I don’t know! I don’t like cussing.” He kicked at a stick with his toe. “Pick something else.”
Abigail shifted, and put her hand to her chin. She thought for what felt like a decade. “You pick! You’re the one who’s being a girl.”
Jeremy was getting annoyed. “Fine!” He said, “I’ll cuss.”
Cadence clapped her hands cheerfully. “Do it!”
“Okay!” He looked away. “Dammit!” He yelled.
“That’s it?” She asked. “Dammit?”
“I don’t know! What do you want?”

Abigail shifted. The brush and the branches swayed and rattled.

Cadence looked around. “Kiss me.” She said.
Jeremy froze. “What?”
“Kiss me.”
Jeremy was shocked.
“Do it, and I’ll let you off the hook for your lame excuse for profanity.” She stepped closer. “Don’t you want to?”
Jeremy nodded, then swallowed purposefully.

Abigail crept as close as she dared. The two shivered as her cold stole their breath.

Jeremy kissed her. Everything stopped. For a while nothing happened.
Then, slowly, time began again, and the planet started slowly to turn in orbit.

Cadence and Jeremy smiled. “There.” She said, blushing, and trying to be cool. “Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes, I mean, it’s way better than nice. Can I do it again?” He flushed rampantly.
“Not quite yet, Casanova. There’s plenty more where that came from.” She started running away, “You’ll have to catch me first!”
Jeremy stalled, and then sprinted after her.

The young couple dashed amongst the trees, running further and further into the woods. Abigail followed swiftly overhead, not even straining to keep up. After, all on silver moonlit nights, she would run with the dear as they sprang over the rocks and hills, and deftly dove in and out of the valleys. However, Abigail was perplexed. She had never seen a kiss before, and she was shocked and bewildered when she saw it happen. She knew what it meant, and a flicker of sadness like an icy dagger poked her heart. The infinite loneliness of her immortal continuance became painfully clear. She longed for the boy’s foolish warm lips to fumble against hers. She wanted to know what it felt like.

The young children stopped running, out of breath. Jeremy sat haphazardly in a pile of leaves and dirt. Cadence walked up to a sycamore tree, and ran her fingers over its smooth white skin, exposed through the shedding bark. Her eyes widened in delight.
“Jeremy!” She exclaimed, “Do you have a knife?”
“Why?” He rasped. The cold air had taken its toll on his lungs.
She sashayed over to him. “I want to carve our names into that tree.” She smiled, that way we can always remember our first kiss.”
Jeremy smiled. “I like that idea.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife, which he carefully unfolded.

Abigail was instantly appalled. She had heard of this kind of thing before, and quickly became wrathful at the thought of those children cutting into her beautiful trees. She tried to hold back, surely they wouldn’t do it, they had to know it was wrong to scar such a thing of beauty.

Jeremy stood and walked over to the tree, running his hand over its smooth skin. He jabbed the blade into it.

The wind around the children howled loudly, kicking up dust and leaves. The branches overhead shuddered. Abigail felt her anger rising.
Jeremy pulled at his sleeves, “Maybe we shouldn’t.” He looked around fearfully.
“Don’t be such a baby.” Teased the girl.
Jeremy reached out to try again.

Abigail lost it. Screaming loudly, she glistened and shook with the wind. A cloud occulted the sun, and the sky grew dark. The children were shocked to see her ghostly form standing in front of them. “Get out of my woods!” Abigail howled. “Or I’ll sic the wolves on you!” She roared. “Now leave!”

Jeremy looked at Cadence. Their mouths were open. They couldn’t move a muscle.
“I! Said! Leave!” The sky grew darker still, and flames leapt up in Abby’s eyes.
The children ran. They flew from the wood, kicking up their heels at a breakneck pace. They never even looked back.

Abigail vanished. The wood was silent again, and the sun warmed slowly in the cosmos. She didn’t see children in her wood again for many years afterward, but she didn’t take very kindly to them after that.

And, yet, she always pined for that freckle stricken boy and his fumbling kiss, regretting never having received one in life.