...

Is anybody there?

2008-11-10T09:53:00.000-08:00

Does anybody look at this anymore?

I couldn't tell you what this is.

2007-03-25T21:40:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-04T20:39:00.000-08:00

“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

2007-02-25T21:04:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-15T00:03:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-07T20:21:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-04T20:17:00.001-08:00

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.

The Story You're About to Read Part 2

2007-01-30T21:19:00.000-08:00

“I'm here for the tour, please.”
“Um, okay, sure.” What was wrong with her? She was stuttering like an idiot. She had to pull it together and fast. Turning around, she cleared her throat and started into her memorized dialogue, explaining different features available for the different types of houses. She tried to give the tour as if Jake was any other client, but she couldn't. He still smelled the same, used the same speaking style, and moved the same way, even though he had filled out a little since she had last seen him. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't married.
“What will you be using the house for?”
“Living in.”
She had to admit it had been a dumb question, so she shouldn't take that comment as rude, she tried to convince herself.
“How many people would be living in it?” she tried again to get some information out of him.
“Just my wife and I until we have kids.”
“So you got married?" she tried to ask casually.
He shot her a sideways look that seemed to tell her she hadn’t succeeded. “I just came to see the house, if you don’t mind.”
She could almost feel her heart breaking inside her chest. She wouldn’t have another chance with him… His coldness, avoiding her questions…
Keely couldn’t bear to have him brush her off again so harshly, so she continued with the tour, leaving out the small talk and personal questions.
She conducted most of the tour, skipping the master suite because she didn't want him to see her personal sanctum. Somehow she thought it would hurt too much, to have him looking over her personal belongings in her bedroom, knowing they could have been married and sharing a life together. She knew she hadn't been ready when he had asked her to marry him, but now she was. She had excelled in her business and had talked with her aunt and uncle about her concerns about getting married. Now she knew that she didn’t have to end up like her mom and sister—she could be happy, like her aunt and uncle were.
She knew she wanted another chance with Jake, but he had apparently moved on.
“Well, that concludes the tour. Do you have any questions?”
“Just one.” He paused and looked straight into her eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked back at him... and hoped. Foolishly, she hoped.
“Why didn't you show me the master suite?”
To be continued. . .

The Story You're About to Read

2007-01-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

"I love you, Keely… Will you marry me?"
Stunned silence was his only answer.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Jake shifted his feet nervously, not knowing what was wrong.
She stepped back from him and looked into his face, but not into his eyes.
"I told you I didn't want to get married."
"Yeah, but... I thought that was... I didn't know you were serious."
"I was--I am. I don't want to get married right now. I'm not ready--I know I'm not. I couldn't imagine sharing my life with anyone at this point. I want to do things... accomplish things before I get married."
"You still could. We don't have to get married right away. We could wait until you're ready."
"No. I'm sorry, Jake, I really am, but I'm not ready." Tears were streaming down her face. She knew this had to be the end for them. They couldn't continue seeing each other any more. "Look, I really need to get going..." She turned slightly away, ready to leave. "I don't think you should call me anymore." Keely hurried away before he could stop her and before she completely broke down crying. She knew it was cruel to leave him like she did, but what else could she do? After tonight, separating had to be like removing a band-aid--the quicker it was the less painful it was.
Why did he have to do this? They were having a great time just the way they were. She had been happy and she had thought he was happy too.
But apparently he wasn't happy enough... He had to pull a stunt like this. She had told him she wasn't ready for marriage--that she had goals and plans and... doubts. Yes, she had doubts about marriage. Would she be in the fifty percent who stayed together... or the fifty percent who divorced? And would her marriage be like her parents' marriage or her sister's marriage? She didn't know if she would ever dare to risk marriage, knowing it could turn out like the only two marriages she had ever observed up close. Close enough to see the constant arguing and fighting at home, and the public facade they put on for anyone outside the family. She definitely didn't want to turn out like her mother or her sister. She'd rather be single all her life than endure that!
Over the next several days Jake called innumerable times. She never answered. He came to her apartment door but she didn't answer. He tried to intercept her when she was on her way to her car or from her car but she deliberately avoided him, telling him to leave her alone if he ever got too close. The end of the semester couldn't come soon enough for Keely and she almost jumped for joy when she finally graduated with her bachelors in entrepreneurship. But at the same time she almost felt like crying because graduation meant she would have to leave Jake and he would have no way of contacting her. She was torn between leaving Jake and staying with him. In the end leaving won out. She moved to Colorado to live near her favorite uncle and aunt--Blake and Marcia. She got a new cell phone number, and e-mail address. She was making a whole new start. Now was the time to work on those goals that kept her from getting married.
* * *
Eighteen months later
Keely quickly finished the last finishing touches on the house before the doorbell rang. This last year and a half had been good for her. The business she had started had flourished beyond her wildest imaginations and had enabled her to buy herself a house. The house was also a good investment because it was used as a model for her uncle's business. Clients who wanted a house built called Blake, often wanting to see an example or model of houses he had built before. Her house was one of those. She lived alone so keeping the house tour ready all the time was easy, even with her busy schedule.
Keely took one last look around the room before going to open the door.
She never knew who was going to show up on her doorstep when her uncle set these meetings up, but who she saw there was the absolutely last person she ever expected, but deep down always hoped for, even though she knew there was no way he ever would or could, because she had cut off every means of contact. Of course he might not be here for a tour... In that case she needed to find out what he wanted before her client showed up.
But there he was, Jake Morgan, looking better than she ever remembered, and looking as cool as cream, obviously not surprised or caring that it was her door he had just knocked on.
"Jake..."
"Hello, Miss Stevens."
That hurt! Keely flinched inside. He had never, ever called her by her last name. Clearly this appointment was for business only.
To be continued...

The Pink Secret

2007-01-13T19:27:00.000-08:00

This is a gag that I thought would turn out pretty funny, but just came out a little weird. Anyway, it's short, but not too bad I don't think. Have fun!

Sinistra brooded as she shuffled her way down the halls of Provo High School. The multifarious chains hanging from various body parts and articles of clothing made satisfying clinking sounds as she ambled along. The students in her path, for the most part, cleared out of her path. She told herself that they were melting before her iron scowl -- as well they should, she had practiced that scowl for hours in front of her mirror -- and she ignored the fact that they probably were just trying to avoid getting poked by one of her adornments, and possibly that they were trying to reduce their proximity to that haven't-showered-for-a-few-days smell.

Whatever the reason, they got out of her way, and that was the really important thing.

Sinistra glanced at her DeathSkull watch, and swore loudly and fiercely. She was on time, and to math, no less. She slowed her pace a bit.

“Hey, Shelly!” called some conformo jock from the bench. Sinistra ignored the reference to her former name and kept walking. The jock dashed to catch up with her, but she adamantly kept striding toward A wing.

“Shelly,” said the jock, “Look, I don't care what everyone says. I don't care that you left cheer, even. Shelly, I love you, and I want...”

“Shut up!” hissed Sinistra, and then in a whisper added, “and don't call me Shelly! I'm not going to talk to some lame conformo like you, anyway.”

Stephen looked hurt. “Come on, Shel, I thought we...”

“Shut up, conformo!” heads were starting to turn in the hallway to follow this noise. Sinistra decided to capitalize on the opportunity. She stopped walking, and wheeled on Stephen, “You're a slave to the system, a jock! You just thrive on... on...” Sinistra thought for a moment, and then hypocritically spat, “on attention!”

Stephen recoiled, and Sinistra could see she was hurting him. Perfect. She continued, “I've got problems you can't even imagine with your puny jock mind! I think on levels you don't even know exist! Do you know what it's like to... to...” again, she picked her mind for the perfect thing to say to reap in fear and respect from her classmates.

Of course, finding something to finish a sentence so provocative as, “Do you know what it's like to...” provided a reasonable challenge for Sinistra, who had two parents who loved each other and made plenty of money, siblings who got along relatively well and led more or less normal lives, and, frustratingly, her own car, paid for with Dad's money. Usually Sinistra wielded metaphors or outright lies to fit the persona that reflected the dark recesses of her soul, who she really was.

“Do you know what it's like to have no one understand you? To be all alone in a world that can't realize who you really are? Do have everyone think you're one thing, but not realize that all along you've been building walls in your psychology,” she paused and bit her lip, did that make sense? Too late, she'd said it, “to have... to have... to have nothing in this world make sense ever because you've been left in the gutters of life by the borge-zwa?” Again, she hoped this was the word. She'd heard it in history class before, and she was pretty sure it meant conformos.

Stephen opened his mouth, but in vain, because Sinistra answered for him, “Of course not! You live your whole life in the spot light, having everyone adore you for your useless football skills! So go, jock! Go, conformo! Go date your cheerleaders!”

“But, Shelly,” protested Stephen, “You were a...”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Sinistra then took a brave step and slapped the book out of Stephen's hands, glancing at its landing. Happily, it landed spine-up, causing it to flip open on the ground and crumpling a few of the pages. She looked up at Stephen again; he was, in a very non-jockish manner, getting misty-eyed.

He never was a proper football player, anyway.

Looking for Writers!

2007-01-01T23:33:00.000-08:00

The Circle of Writers is looking to get bigger!

The Circle of Writers is getting back to it's original purpose, which is to provide a place for writers to post their work and get quick feedback from others with similar interests. If you are interested in joining our team, send an email to cavanhelps@hotmail.com, tell me who you are, and I'll get in touch with you as soon as is reasonably possible.

Hope I hear from you soon!

Zinxor the Witch

2005-12-12T21:21:00.000-08:00

Zinxor sighed loudly. Hanging upside-down by your ankles was terribly uncomfortable. The whole world looked so... wrong, to say nothing of the throbbing headache when all the blood made its new residence in your head. He closed his eyes, and began humming to himself. After a while, he hear the door swing open.

“Chantest thou thy olde demonic spells, heretic?” came a gruff man's voice.

“Actually, it's going to be your national anthem in several hundred years,” Zinxor responded. This had been a tough day for him. He had just recently traveled back in time, and somehow landed in a small quaint village called Salem. At the time of his arrival, he remembered hearing something about Salem in his Western Hemisphere History class, but couldn't remember specifically what it was until the natives apprehended him and accused him of sorcery.

“Art thou ready to confess thy association with the Devil? We have many witnesses against thee, and thy life shall be spared if thou but only confess.”

Zinxor sighed again. Christians baffled him. He had read the Bible, and learned that they believe in principles like love, kindness, generosity, and quiet faith. The people of Salem did not seem to be acting in great congruency with these tenets.

“I did confess! I have no problem with confessing whatever you want me to, just let me go and return to my ship! I swear you'll never see me again!”

“No, my child! For if thou confessest thy sinister relationship with the dark, thou art to abandon all of thy old demonic possessions, including the ship of which thou speakest!” The man slapped Zinxor across the face, and then walked out of the room.

Zinxor sulked. This was completely unfair. He was thousands of years ahead of these people, and they had captured him like a terrified hamster. He did wonder with morbid curiosity how this would read in the history books, though. He grunted. Probably not at all. His legacy was to be the first and last time traveler. The one who disappeared and never returned. No one would no that he died anonymously at the hands of fanatical adherents to an extremist sect of Christianity.

Deciding that his case was hopeless, Zinxor passed out.

The next morning was even more promising. He awoke to the sounds of the siren of his own ship. The idiots had somehow set off the self-destruct sequence, and in two hours it would dramatically explode, removing Salem from the map and probably altering history in unfavorable ways. How did they manage to work the controls, let alone get into the ship? Seething hatred welled up (or rather, down) inside Zinxor.

“He hath cast a demonic spell! We must burn him before it can take effect!” shot up the voice of an otherwise useless townsman. Many people cried, “Verily!” in agreement.

Several men burst through the door and quickly cut the ropes suspending Zinxor. He felt queasy as they dragged him to his feet. They rushed him out the door, and the sound of his siren blended with the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd combined into a grim chorus. Zinxor felt despair as he saw the large foreboding stake above a pile of firewood, and the previously random noise of the crowd was now forming into a chant.

“Burn him! Burn him! Burn him! BURN HIM!”

Terrified, Zinxor looked for his escape. He looked to his ship, The Mistress, which was still hooting about imminent self-destruction. He looked to his cat, Fluffers, looking mournfully out the deck window; she hadn't been fed for a full 36 hours now. He looked into the bestial faces of his soon-to-be murderers as they spat upon and shouted at him. How could he get out of this? He tried to pull his right arm free, but the man holding him had a surprisingly tight grip.

As they tied him to the stake, Zinxor desperately tried to quiet his fears as he thought of a plan. The roaring of the crowd intensified as a man pushed his way through with the torch. Zinxor had to think of something before the inevitable happened.

He kicked wildly at the torch-bearer, but missed. The man dipped the flaming stick into the pile, which flared up dramatically, and Zinxor felt the rushing of lethal heat. A tear rolled down his cheek, observed by none except the sympathetic feline watching from the deck window. Now she would never be fed again.

Fortunately for her, she didn't live long enough to be fed again. Slightly less than two hours later, the ship did in fact self-destruct, its nuclear core leveling the entire township of Salem and all the surrounding areas. That is why we have never heard of it today.

Roughly 2,000 years later, Zinxor woke up.

“Are you ready?” asked the program director. “Today's the big day.”

“Where am I going?” Zinxor asked.

“We're sending you to a quiet little town on the North American continent, just so you can get a sample of the culture there.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Zinxor smiled.