Super Short Story #3

Kevin was a just a young child when his mother died. He never really found out how she had died. The orphanage that he spent most of his childhood at told him that she had fallen ill during the outbreak of 2910. Pretty close to a third of the Earth's population died in the outbreak. Some say it was the bubonic plague, while others said it was the small pox, and even more said it was God's wrath upon mankind for being so full of themselves.

Kevin was short for his age with golden hair and grey-ish eyes. His eyes shone with mischief and playfulness. These, of course, were not qualities that the orphanage wanted to see. They wanted obedience. Kevin learned at a very young age what discipline was. Each time he got a little too rowdy with one of the other boys he was whipped until his back bled. To his advantage, the scars on his back toughened his skin, so that he couldn't feel the onslaught of the whip.

It wasn't until he reached the ripe old age of 12 that he was sent out of the confines of the orphanage to seek work. Work was hard enough to find since the outbreak. Those that were strong enough were forced into cruel manual labor, at the docks mostly. Those who weren't so strong were sent to the capital where they were destined to a life of boring paperwork. There weren't any poor or homeless, the outbreak fixed that. In fact, rumors had it, that the outbreak was caused by the poor and homeless.

Kevin walked along, what used to be a train trestle, to get to town. As he approached the edge of town, a group of boys came upon him. They all seemed to be his age, their clothing were nothing more than rags, and they all seemed to be smoking. Not exactly knowing what he should do, Kevin decided that the best thing to do was to run. But, the gang of boys easily caught up to Kevin with ease.

“Hey kid,” the leader of the group shouted, “you looking for work? Because we have room for one more boy in our enterprise.”

“And what might that be?”

“You will just have to join to find out.”

So, with that, Kevin started his life of crime. It really kinda suited him, the thrill of the chase, the total lack of discipline, and constant money in his pocket. The gang was his family, his only source of support. The orphanage was a memory from a distant past.

When Kevin turned 15, everything started to get a bit testy. The gangs old haunting grounds were slowly starting to be patrolled by the centurions. Taken from the ancients, these men were known for their courage and brutality. No one got away from these men. A couple members of the gang had already been captured by the centurions. The only way the gang knew this – was because the boys' heads were mounted on spikes on the capital buildings green lawn. Yes, even the ancient ways of torture had been brought back into use, as the outbreak had torn through the Earth's inhabitants.

Kevin watched as his friends, one by one, were captured. What was he supposed to do? Go into hiding? What would he do for work? He looked around him, looking for his escape. He saw a little raft, he quickly made a dash for the raft. I made it, Kevin thought to himself. Just then, he heard the loud thundering bang of a gun going off. He pitched forward. Did I make it? Was his last thought as the darkness overwhelmed him.

Super Short Story #2

It was a strange place, he thought to himself. The sun high in the sky, scorching everything its rays touched. He had already been walking, what seemed to be forever. But, who really knew in this desert? He could've been going around in circles and he wouldn't even know it. He didn't come prepared for this. He was still dressed in his armor and chain mail. The metal absorbed all the heat of the mid-day sun. Under the armor he was very slowly dehydrating, especially since he hadn't thought of bringing water to the fight. Why would he? He didn't know he was going to end up in a desert.

It didn't occur to him that once he slayed the sharp-toothed dragon that it would some how transport him to this place. The dragon had been threatening his home town for years. Taking people away to devour them later, possibly as a midnight snack. The thing was huge but beautiful. That was its danger. It was the color of the rainbow, beautiful in appearance. Its fire lite the sky as it would approach the town. All the other knights refused to go and kill such a beast. Goodrich was the only one who had the courage to save the town.

Looking back, Goodrich didn't really know what persuaded him to be the one. He was starting to have second thoughts as his squires helped put his armor on. He was a big guy, standing at just under six foot and weighed at least a good 14 stone. The armor would add another four stone to that. He was to go out with no horse, which meant that walking was going to be a pain. “Sir! Its time to go,” the squires shouted as the day slowed drifted into night.

As he was about to leave, the squires brought him the special arrows need for killing the beast. They weren't just made out of the toughest metal known to man, they had the venom of the scorpion saturating them. His people were a very inventive people. They had survived many years trying to kill these beasts. He latched the quiver and bow securely to his armor as he strode out of the keep.

Everything seemed to slow as he approached the dragons home, a cave that extended to the shore (a 3 miles away from Goodrich's location). No one had ever made it out alive from this cave. Would he be the first? He stepped into the cave, forgetting to arm himself with a torch. But, he could tell where to go by the stench in the air. The smell of rotting flesh of all kinds assaulted Goodrich's nose. He had known what the beast ate but wasn't ready himself for the fact that he might end up being the next meal.

He turned a bend in the cave. The beast must have heard him coming. Goodrich could see its eyes, a very vibrant green with gold where it should have been white. He reached for an arrow and his bow. . . .

The mid-day sun was a surprise to him. Wasn't it just dark? And what is this crunching under my feet? He was sweltering underneath his armor. He took his helmet off, hopefully so he could see better. He looked around him. He was in a desert and the crunching beneath his feet were what remained of someones or somethings meals. Human skulls – white and gleaming in the sun smiled up at him in a mocking gaze.

This brought another question to his mind, where was the beast? He knew for sure that he had not gotten his shot off or did he? He walked farther, slowly dehydrating in the mid-day sun. He had no water, he wasn't expecting this.

He heard a noise behind me but he kept walking. “What are you doing, human? You came to kill me but are you man enough to do it? I am but the only one of my kind left...,” a strong voice said behind him.

“What am I to do, Master Dragon?” he said not even turning toward his foe.

“Look at me, human,” was the dragons response.

Goodrich turned towards what he was expecting, a huge beast – but in its place was a creature the size of a miniature scorpion. It was brightly colored, with the big vibrant green eyes with gold around them.

“Human, this is what I look like in the sun. Your species is my only threat. I change to what things around me picture me as. A shape shifter of sorts. I am virtually harmless, unless provoked. The skeletons surrounding you are the remains of those who were going to kill me, and I transported them here, and here they died looking for me. You seem smarter then the rest, Human. I will transport you back to your world if you promise never to come after me again. And, I will promise you that I will never go back to your village.”

Goodrich looked at the tiny being, still trying to comprehend what he was told. He bent down on one leg, reached out to the dragon. “Master dragon, I will promise you. We shall be friends, we shall.”

The dragon looked up into Goodrich's eyes, blinked, and vanished. Before he knew what was happening, Goodrich was lying in his bed, inside the keep. Was it just a dream?  

Family

How can one person single-handedly ruin a good night? Good question! You see, I have this allergy to latex. Yeah, I know...I've heard it all before. My little nephew's birthday is on October 30th, and I was told that there would be latex balloons. Nothing says, "we don't really want you there..." like that. Seriously? If you don't want me in your fuckin' life you should just tell me so! Don't go beating around the bush and fuckin' sugarcoat it. Just tell me straight out.
The person who said the adage that blood is thicker then water, definitely has not met my family. All the backstabbing and cold shoulders need to stop! Why did I post this on here? Because there is nowhere else for me to vent my disdain for certain family members without it coming back to bite me in the ass. Ok, so not disdain but you all know what I mean.

The social butterfly within

When I was growing up, I didn't get out much to play with friends or even go to their houses. My idea of hanging out was hanging with my fellow pep band buddies during the third quarter of a High School football game. This was just the way things were.
Now, I find that I have become that social person who is the life of the party. Not that I'm really all that cool, its because people can see that I'm different. I'm the genuine friend, the person who is always there to help out or even hang out for a while, or maybe even go to shows with. How did I make this transition? Because, God knows, that even a year ago I was spending every waking minute by myself or with my family. I, maybe, had three friends that lived near me. Now, I have a hell of a lot more then that.
What changed? I don't know but it works.

Long time no speak....

Its been a long time since I've written anything on here. So, lets just say that things have been interesting. Today's message is one of sheer loneliness. Sure, I'm normally a very happy person, full of stupid things to say so people will laugh. But, that clownish way, hides what is really going on inside. Just like bullies terrorize kids who are weaker then them to get the "self-respect" that they crave. Sure I laugh, but deep down I'm crying. If you could just look into my eyes you would be able to see that.
The weight of too many years of being the clown, ignoring my own depression, has pushed me past my own point of no return. Its times like these that make me want to just drawn in my sorrows. But, that isn't me. I've learned to "just keep swimming" or push past these moments because there will be good times once again. Not everyone can say this. My advice to these people? Learn where your boundaries are, learn to let go, and keep swimming towards shore.

Creatures of Habit

So, we have all heard enough of the supposed "rapture" that was supposed to have happened last Saturday. A crap load of people wasted their life savings, took up picket signs, and waited for Jesus to come down and hoist them up to the big cloud in the sky.

We, as human beings, are naturally creatures of habit. But, every time some preacher dude predicts the "end of the world", do we really have to believe him? Mr. Camping, had predicted the same thing almost 20 years ago. And yet, we believed him. What's to say that another 20 years from now, a Mr. Camping wannabe, will try to do the same thing.

We can predict all we want. But, in the end we have to remember one basic thing: fool me once, shame on you...fool me twice, shame on me.

The Past

We all have a past. Some of us have more of a past then others. This month holds some very tough memories from my past. May 18th will be my one year anniversary of divorce. May 8th would have been the birthdate of 1 set of twins, they would've been two years old this year. And, May 16th would have been the birthdate of the second set of twins, they would've been one year old. This month is going to be a tough one, with so much heartache. But, you know what? I don't have to go through this alone. Even though I cry by myself, that doesn't mean that others aren't mourning with me.