Is anybody there?

Does anybody look at this anymore?

I couldn't tell you what this is.

Arthvine Soulcrusher glared out onto the square. So much carnage and destruction had taken place at this very spot, so many months ago. It had passed into history now, as the corpses had been eliminated by countless reboots.

The only thing that remained to memorialize the fallen heroes now was an added sentence onto the room's description.

Arthvine looked up and down his well-used Soulmasher blade, and sucked in a deep breath.

“arthvine,” said Drazzelda Elftemptress.

“wut”

“ur only lvl 4 their lvl 8. ur gonna get ownzed.”

He looked at her. She stood about 5'8” with long, luxurious brown hair that extended to her waist, curling slightly. She wore a shimmery blue gown that covered her entire body, and matched her piercing eyes that seemed to cut into his very soul. She had on full-plate armour, Yosemite Sam's cowboy hat, and wielded a lightsaber.

But, as he gazed into her eyes, Arthvine knew she could never know his secret.

She could never know that among those heroic fallen... was Arthvine Soulcrusher.

He remembered the event so well. The OWNZERS Clan had an arms deal go wrong with the YaKuZa. The shotgun of shimmering sparks was supposed to change hands between them in exchange for the key to the Tower of Endless Madness. But the OWNZERS agent, for some reason, froze up and went glassy-eyed during the transaction.

Suspecting foulplay, the YaKuZa dispatched him immediately, looting his corpse and making a speedy getaway.

Powdery powder, lichen ribbons fattening madness happily wanders joyously starboard.

ACK

The Story You Are About To Read Part 4

“All of this, it could have been mine and yours together,” he continued with more emotion. “The house, the furniture... It could’ve been ours. This could’ve been ours, Keel,” he finished softly.
“I know,” she responded just as softly.
“Why isn’t it ours?” he asked sharply.
“Because I wasn’t ready then,” Keely said defensively.
“Meaning you are now?” His words and tone were harsh.
“Yes, I am ready. But it doesn’t matter because you’re…” she broke off before she said too much, fearing that she already had.
“But did you have to move all the way out here, sever any contact we had with each other… and break my heart?” His voice broke. “Did you have to do all that?”
“Yes I did,” she insisted. “My aunt and uncle were the ones who finally helped me get over my fears about marriage, and if I hadn’t have moved out here, I would still be afraid to get married only to end up miserable.”
“So it’s all about you, is it? Well what about me? I was ready; I knew I was supposed to marry you. I loved you! I still love you! After all this time, and all the heartache, I still love you. I can’t seem to get over you, no matter what I do. Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he ranted, his voice increasing in volume. “Why can’t I get you out of my heart?” he shouted.
Tears streamed down Keely's face as he bore his soul to her.
“You… you won’t ever leave my heart, will you? No matter what you do, or how far away you move, you will always be in my heart,” he finished his rant defeatedly. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.” Jake turned on his heel and exited her house like a bear was chasing him.

Ummmmm

Okay, AJ, so only in the most twisted of imaginations could this piece be construed as romantic in any way, but I decided to write the first thing that came to my mind, and this was it.

Dolphins.

Flying, fishy, squishy dolphins.

They were everywhere.

I gasped for breath as I blasted out of the icy cold pond. The sky was still entirely black, and there was nothing but the sound of a light chill breeze above the water.

I knew it was behind me. It had killed the others, and I had to get away. I was the only one left who knew. I had to warn the city, warn the world.

I pulled myself out of the water and rolled onto the cold, slimy stone ground.

Merciless in their onslaught,

Their insatiable hunger for fish

No one will survive.

I heard it coming, the low rumble that emerged from the very depths of hell. The water behind me began boiling, and I could feel the scalding vapor against my flesh. I threw myself to my feet and my legs began churning as I mindlessly scrambled through the darkness toward... toward something. Where I was going to didn't matter; the only thing that was important was to get away from the creature, to somehow escape.

They thirst for vengeance.

Too many years of slavery.

Too many sins that cannot be forgiven.

“Aos!” I heard a voice call in the distance, “Aos, is that you?”

“Yes!” I responded, and began running toward the sound. From behind me I could hear echoing screeches of the abomination. It was moving too fast. I would catch me any moment now. My chest was on fire, but I forced myself to push harder, to run faster. Freedom, safety, an end to this nightmare.

I envied the dead.

The time of judgment is arrived

Only blood can quench the flame

That was ignited by the ignorance of man.

I stumbled over a stray rock and barreled to the ground, my ankle exploding with pain.

“Aos!” the voice called, more desperate now.

“Help me!” my voice came out as nothing more than a panicked squeak.

The unnatural noise of my pursuer grew closer. I crawled forward; my ankle was broken. My speed was impossibly handicapped, but I had to try. The creature would not simply kill me, it would condemn me to indescribable agony. I fled from no mortal foe, but rather an embodiment of terror itself.

For the darkness we must kill

Forever we must kill

Anyone. Anything. Death is our remedy.

My crawling was useless. I called out to the voice again, but there was no response. Before long, I could hear the creature bearing down on me. Horrified, I rolled over onto my back and stared death in the face.

My death was inevitable, but I had to fight.

Drawing the small pen-knife from my pocket, I waved vainly at the blackness. I felt a slimy appendage wrap around my waist and hoist me into the air. I tried to jam the blade of the knife into the tentacle, but it would not penetrate the thick, rubbery hide. Soon my head was slammed into the rocky ceiling, and my entire body swam with pain.

Clinging to my consciousness, I waved my pathetic weapon at the unseen monster. No avail. Before long, I could smell its powerful breath as I was rammed between its jaws.

The were-octopus had claimed another victim.

The Story You're About to Read Part 3

She shut her eyes in anguish, every last glimmer of hope vanishing.
“I want to know what kind of options we have for the master bedroom and bathroom.”
Keely turned her back to Jake, breathing raggedly for a minute. She could do this. She HAD to do this, and stay calm and unemotional. As unemotional as he was.
“Are you okay?”
She straightened her shoulders and took a steadying breath.
“Uh… Yeah… The, um, master suite is this way.” She led him through a short hall to the door to the master bedroom, opened it, stepped through, and stopped at the foot of her four poster bed. She was completely composed now, just as if he were any other client. She rattled off her speech about different features available for the master suite without any thought.
He looked around for several minutes, examining the furniture more than the design of the room. He finally moved into the bathroom. Keely refused to go into the bathroom with him. It may be a large bathroom, but even being the size it was, it would still be too small a space for her comfort. She stayed where she was but continued her discourse it a slightly louder voice so he could still hear her.
When he finally returned, he walked right up to her and stood only inches from her but she was frozen to the spot by his sudden approach and couldn't move.“This could’ve been ours,” he stated.

Bye-bye, Dar'Asha

I took my IBTJRRT project off this blog, and if I re-visit it, it will be on a private blog. However, it's on hold until I finish my current project for my writing class. (Most likely I'll pick up IBTJRRT again in late April.)

We'll see.

I still love having people read my stuff, though, and if you want to be "in the know", as it were, please email me.

Takeover

Nobody ever taught the Universe a sense of fair play. This, of course, makes sense, because who could? The Universe is big, very very very big. It is, in fact, the biggest thing in the Universe by its very definition.

So where does the idea of fair-play come from? Some idiot human, probably, who was mad that no matter how hard he practiced, the other kids on the court were just better at kickball than he was. So instead he got a job in politics and passed laws requiring that the other kids pick him first.

The humanity-generated paradox, then, is that there is a race of people living on a tiny, watery little planet that somehow got it into their tiny, watery brains that everyone should be treated fairly, while they are residents in a Universe that not only has no sense of fair-play, but inadvertently discourages it by just making some people better kickballers.

Every so often, however, the history of the world is rocked irreversibly by someone who understands the higher Universal law of unfair-play.

“And this book definitely made my feelings surface,” Oprah said from behind her own, theatrical tears. “And this boy,” she gestured with her right arm toward a boy sitting in a wheelchair as the camera pulled back to bring him on-screen, “has tugged at my heart and helped me to realize my inner love for all humanity.”

She took a moment to gaze out on the mostly-female crowd and allowed them a few seconds to quietly weep for whatever reason they found appropriate. And then, a rare moment in her career, Oprah became nervous with anticipation.

“And now,” she said softly, “we're almost out of time, but there's one more thing I'd like to say to all the beautiful women of America.” She dabbed her eyes with a convenient handkerchief.

“Men have been ignoring our feelings for too long. Their insensitivity has caused us, the women of America, to go through countless heartbreaks, and their incompetence has shattered thousands of marriages. I think that we, as a loving and caring sisterhood, should go get the most deadly weapons we can locate and kill all of the men in America.”

A stunned silence came over the crowd. The few men in her live audience became noticeably uncomfortable and squirmy. The only smart one was her cameraman, who knew inevitability when he saw it, and took of running for the exit. Fortunately, he was cut down by a woman near the door who was wielding a purse with razor-sharp sequins.

“Good,” Oprah said in a calm tone, “Now go, my minions! Spread destruction and sensitivity toward feelings in your wake! Show no mercy to the merciless! KILL!”

Within seconds, all the men within the audience were dead, and within minutes, millions of women around America (and Canada) took to the streets, blood flowing freely in their path.

The military was useless. The few who were willing to respond to the threat were not nearly equal to the task, and they knew that if they killed too many women, their wives or mothers (depending) would give them a serious talking-to when they returned home.

Consequently, the revolution was unequivocally the most successful in the history of Earth. Within hours, the entire fighting force of the fledgling American government was entirely defeated, and within days, Oprah was placed on the throne of the Americanadian empire and named Queen of the Better Half.

Immediately an emergency meeting was held by the leaders of nations on how to deal with this new threat in the west. Widespread panic commenced when an ultimatum was sent from Queen Oprah to the mostly-male population of the United Nations saying that they had two weeks to cease from the sinister crime of being men.

The meetings over the next few days were intense and filled with debate, and can be adequately summed up in the despairing utterance by the French representative, Monsieur Jacques Du LeFrommage, “The greatest military power on Earth, in the hands of a woman! The Americanadian empire holds sway over half of the population of all of our countries. We are doomed! Our own apathy and ill-preparedness has brought us certain death! Certainly, there is no man who is a match for Oprah!”

No man, that is, except Phil.