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So, a terrorist attack, eh?

17 Apr

A world without barriers.

Let’s talk about that.

So, these bombs went off, you see? I don’t need to tell you what happened. These bombs went off, and people were hurt, a few killed. Blood and broken bones, reports of strollers being torn to bits. I’m not sure if there were kids in ’em, but that’s what I heard on the radio. And now we’re all talking about it, and the T.V.’s repeating it over and over, and it’s slowly becoming soldered into your mind, like a parasite. And you don’t even realize it, but now, because that’s happened, because you’re all talking about it, and because you’re all perpetuating the horrible, horrible incident that happened yesterday (and yes, I’m guilty of doing so right here, right now), they’ve won. They’ve done exactly what they intended. It’s an endless stream of chaos, burning through the tongues of society’s youth life wildfire. And you’ve got the matches, they lit ’em, and you’re tossing ’em into dried grass.

This wasn’t about killing anybody specific, or, frankly, about killing people, period. This was about sending a shock wave through every city, over every mountain, across every valley, river, lake and stream, into every home, on every television set. This wasn’t about money, or religion (even if they find out it was Islamic Extremists). Those are all just kerfluffle bits in the way of the real, basic truth: this was about creating an effect, one that stuck. And boy did they do it. Look at you! Even now you were probably thinking about it, before you even read this. That’s why you came to read this. In fact, I can guarantee that you definitely came to read this article for one of three or reasons:

  • You wanted to release some of that anger concerning the incident by reading another viewpoint and going, “Yeah, I agree! This was awful!”
  • Your school is doing some kind of report thingie on it, so you’ve got to gather as much data as possible, which means you sure as hell are interested in this heinous act.
  • You were hoping this was something about the whole thing being planned by the government, an inside job, or something conspiratorial.

There’s also one other exception: you’re just BSing around on the internet, which, in my opinion, if the best reason to have read this article. So, kudos to you. To the rest, shut up. I don’t mean to be rude, but—actually, I do mean to be rude, SHUT UP. I’m tired of everybody talking about this nonsense. Yes, it’s bad, it sucks, I mean that sincerely, but they want us to keep talking about it. In Israel, they never make a big media blast about terrorism. If bus 117 got bombed the other day, then the next day they’d get everybody riding bus 117. Why? Because if bus 117 was empty, then it worked: nobody will do THAT anymore, because THAT’S dangerous.

Hihihihihihihihihi

I can give you the cliche “everybody join hands and work together” crap, which is totally true, by the way, or we can get down to the bottom of this. This is a loop we’re on, a cycle that keeps being perpetuated and perpetuated by Man’s loving of talking about bad things that happened. It’s a disease. The cure is shut the hell up and talk about good things instead. We could have men on Mars soon, MARS! Cures for all kinds of diseases are being developed and put out right now! Books can be published by anyone from the age of born to whenever! TALK ABOUT THAT, THEN WE WIN, NOT THEM!

I only talked about it at first so that you guys would listen to the rest, so that you would get the point. I don’t want to keep this cycle going, I want to end it. It can end now, starting with you.

Let’s talk about that.

~D.

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Well, I’ve done it…

24 Feb

So, you like to waterbend?

…I’ve now realized I can’t make one viewer jokes anymore. Know why? This is going to sound weird, but it perpetuates the idea that I only have one person reading these, and my stats have gone down since I’ve been saying it. I won’t say by how much, but it’s enough for me to take note of it. So now, I’m going to do something very strange: I’m going to act as though I have a million viewers. I noticed that that seems to work. If one acts as though they’re already successful and it’s all already done, things move right in that direction. And so now, my three billion readers, I want to talk to you.

I want to tell you how thankful I am that you’ve been following me for all these years. I want to tell you how much the trillions of emails I get from you warm my heart and make me laugh so often. Even the hate mail gives me a smile, since I get to say, “Oh, you crazy kook,” every time I read them.

I want to tell you how thankful I am for the gifts that I can’t find space for in my room. I’ve been stuffing a lot of them in my office, controversially placed in Geneva, Switzerland. I especially love the bust of Aaron Sorkin, who is, incidentally, one of my favorite writers. Thanks, Tom, for that one. Oh, and whoever anonymously sent me that map book of Middle-earth, massive props. Please comment you name below so we all know who you are.

I want to tell you how thankful I am that you and I have an honest connection, even with so many of you there. It’s good this way, it really is. I like transparency, and I like to be as personal as I can with you.

My friends, it’s a good day today. Tim Tebow’s going to the Super Bowl, the U.S. is in a surplus and we’re about to establish a colony on Mars. Please, keep reading my stuff, and I’ll keep reading your stuff, too.

~D.

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Finding Waldo and the Great Kings

8 Feb

Have you ever met a katydid?

Okay, so now that you’ve found Waldo, you can keep reading my blog. Oh, you were hoping for the usual? Okay, let me think of something to write about. Oh, I know, I’ll write about the War in Afghanistan, or condoms. I think the latter’s a deeper subject. You can really get into condoms, you know? They always seem to be hiding some dark secrets. It’s hard for them to slip away. You just keep coming back for—okay, okay, I’ll stop with the condom jokes.

Now, let’s get real here. I’m clearly trying to get somewhere, but probably not a place you’re interested in going. So I’ll get there by way of a story.

EDIT: I personally feel that this one’s a bit anti-climactic. Having said that, if you feel like it’s anti-climactic, #%@& you.

————————————————————————————————————————————–

So, long ago there were these three great kings: Pax, Leon and Adam. Pax was a great schemer who acquired his kingdom through guile, bribery, and a slow, gradual overthrow of the old ruler, whom his father had served under as an adviser. Leon was a great warrior who, after serving as the old king’s Right Hand, organized a swift and vicious coup, taking his seat on the throne with his wife advising him at all times (she being the one who whispered words of “coup” into Leon’s mind in the first place). Adam, the handsomest of the three, ended a potential civil war in his kingdom, but grew jealous when his brother, a fat, lazy pig who raped more women than he’d saved, was named heir to the throne. The day before his coronation, Adam pushed him out the window of a tower, skull fragments scattering across stone. The next day, he was named the new heir, and took his place as ruler of his own kingdom.

These three men all obtained their titles through bloodshed, whether it was done with careful planning, murderous overthrow, or just a simple little push, none of them gained their thrones by peaceful means. Good men or not, there was a certain calculation that all three possessed which allowed them to take the lives of their foes in the manner in which they did, whatever that manner was.

And so came the visit.

On a night in the cold, dark winter, a young woman in a beautiful red and gold dress came to visit each of the three kings. The first to be visited was Pax. When the woman arrived with her large caravan of golden clothed men, she and her fellows were welcomed with open arms. A grand feast was held, and King Pax asked the woman of her homeland. She told him, and the rest seated around the great dinner table, that she was the Queen of Pyrquin, a kingdom far to the south where the rivers ran with clean, clear water like no other land, and where merchants and traders bartered so often that the economy was constantly booming. The amount of riches the kingdom posses were beyond count or measure. The fields were sweeping and lush, and the farmlands were fertile and undying. The walls of Castle Pyrquin had never been breached and never would be.

And now here was Pax, plotting how he would take Pyrquin and add it to his empire. He would do it exactly as he had before. First he would sway the lower level guards and soldiers with his charismatic aura and intriguing political ideals. Then he would slowly allow officers to join in the discussions concerning possible reforms for Pyrquin. This would occur over the course of many months, allowing him to eventually gain access to the royal guard. The possibility of a total overthrow would be alluded to, and then, finally, some would say they were ready to begin the takeover. He would bribe those who disagreed with money, women, positions of power, whatever he had to use. Finally, when the Queen of Pyrquin was in chains, he would make her into his concubine, for she was much too beautiful to be executed, but would be far too great an enemy at this point to be taken on as a wife.

So, Pax did all those things, and then when he did have the lady in chains before him in her throne room, he smiled, believing he had won. Then, next thing he knew, the very men he had persuaded to join his cause turned on him and locked him away in Pyrquin’s dungeon while his kingdom was invaded and made a part of the Pyrquin Empire.

And so Pax fell.

Next, the woman and her caravan went to visit Leon on a night in the cold, dark winter. Leon welcomed her with open arms, and a great feast was prepared for the arrival of the golden caravan. When asked about her kingdom, the woman replied in just the same way as before. Leon’s wife grinned at the opportunity.

“My love,” she whispered to the king, “your armies are the greatest and most powerful in all the world. This lady claims her castle’s walls are impenetrable. You must show her how wrong she is. You must take her land, and make it into a new part of our empire.”

Leon, being quite trusting of his wife, had the Queen of Pyrquin, as she had introduced herself, locked away with her caravan. They didn’t fight back all that hard. Leon suspected nothing, and so he led an army to the walls of the castle. What he did not know was that a layer of earth surrounding the castle had been dug out underground, and thousands of pots carrying explosive concoctions created by Pyrquin’s alchemists had been left there for just such an occasion. They were lit ablaze, and in the blink of an eye Leon’s army fell into a massive grave. Though he himself did not die on that day, he was locked in Pyrquin’s dungeon, in the same cell as Pax. They hardly ever spoke to each other, ashamed of their mighty failures. When Leon’s kingdom was conquered by the Pyrquin Empire, his wife was beheaded, for it was her words that led to this grand defeat (or, in the Queen’s case, a grand victory).

And so Leon fell.

Finally, the woman and her caravan arrived before the court of King Adam. Now, Adam had taken note of the sudden overthrow of the two other kingdoms. He had his military prepared for a potential invasion, had his personal guard swear fealty to him in the case of a coup, and kept his eyes peeled for any assassination attempts. Adam had taken a wife and son in the time since he murdered his brother, and so he certainly had something to defend at this point other than his own skin.

On a night in the cold, dark winter, a golden caravan arrived at Adam’s kingdom. Before allowing them entry, he had them examined and questioned fiercely. Any who carried weapons were forced to hand over what they carried. They did so without resentment. A dinner was held, guards on all sides of the main hall. The Queen of Pyrquin was impressed by the extensive amount of security and preparation. She asked if her people could stay the night within the safety of Adam’s walls, for they had run into some trouble on the road. Adam decided to have the Queen’s caravan remain in the hall while he discussed the terms of her stay privately. He reassured his wife, letting her know he would be prepared for any tricks.

Adam and the Queen arrived in his bedroom, and they began discussing the lady’s recent victories. She claimed that they were not invasions of any kind, simply mergers. Confluence had come about by way of diplomacy, and that was all there was to it. Adam thinned his eyes and inquired, “What are you really doing here?”

A smile curled up on the Queen’s face as she answered, “Finishing my game so I can move on to another.”

“Game?”

“I’ve come this far haven’t I? Clearly I’m a persuasive diplomat.”

“Or a ruthless killer.”

Adam stared at her back as she ran her hand along his bed’s quilt.

“If your kingdom were mine,” she began, “and I gained it through diplomacy, no harm would be done to any of your people.”

“My kingdom,” he retorted, “is not a something to be bartered with.”

“Isn’t it? What do you think would happen to this place if I was forced to bring my army to its walls? What do you think would happen if my soldiers stormed the halls of this castle and found your wife and child alone with you already dead on the battlefield?”

There was silence. Adam looked to the floor. He felt the Queen drawing nearer, placing a hand on his chest.

“Do you think they would survive?” she whispered. Her eyes were cruel and piercing. He thought of killing her right then, but her armies would indeed strike with such furious vengeance that no army he could muster would be able to hold them back. Killing her was a horrid idea, and he knew there was only one solution that would keep his people safe, his family alive. The Queen’s hand reached his cheek.

And so Adam fell.

He was thrown in the same cell as Leon and Pax, left to rot with them while the Pyrquin Empire grew and grew. Eventually the three men were strapped to the mast of a ship without a crew and pushed out into the sea, never to be seen again.

Pax schemed with corruption, and so his schemes were corrupted. Leon assaulted blindly, and so his lack of perception was exploited. Adam betrayed his old family, putting his new one at risk. These three kings were all traitors, and so the blood they spilled caught up with them.

The Pyrquin Empire continued collecting kingdoms for a decade. The three kings eventually arrived on an island across the sea, far from their home. What became of them when they arrived their is unknown.

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Okay, so that’s all I’ve got for tonight. I just figured I’d pull that one out of my butt. Goodnight!

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Ah, updates!

4 Jan

Yes, updates are here my friends! Well, my friend. Yes, keep checking in for new data concerning the remodeling of this here blog and I’m sure we’ll have a scrumptious afternoon drinking cherry juice and whatnot.

As you can probably tell, I’m very happy right now. I’m already writing the sequel to Ledge as it is soon to be published. The story is looking good! I think it’s funny how I wrote the first chapter and, when I was done, I went, “Huh……..well that’s weird…..why did I just finish writing the third chapter?” So then I started writing the new first chapter and I was like, “Huh……well that’s just strange. I’m writing the second chapter for some reason.” I swear, if the first chapter ends up being the last I write, I’m going to put a video of me dying of laughter up here. That’d be just rich.

Also, I’ll be able to talk about this other new job I’ve been up to soon, so that’ll be good. I want to be transparent, you know? I think I’ll put a C-Span camera up in my room and record every single action I take as the next–actually, I don’t want you to know what I’m doing over here. Go home. Get away from me. I’m fine without you.

>.>

 

Oh……and Happy New Year……or something……

They said I should sell out…

20 Dec

Don’t worry, I’m not selling out. Okay, maybe a little. Okay, maybe A LOT, but in a good way. At least I’m being overt and telling you all, or YOU, my singular reader, that I’m selling out. I’m not acting like BioWare where I covertly and slowly devolve into a corporate hack who makes either really bad endings to his stories or leaves them half-finished. I’m simply doing that right in front of you…

…except for the corporate hack making bad endings and half-finished products part. That was a joke.

That being said, if you see some changes to the blog, it’s because I’m actually starting to (as much as I make jokes about having only one reader) gain some fans (at least that’s what this little graph here tells me). I want to make sure that when my super geeky fan club is formed, they know who they’re talking to a little better and can be more sure that I’m actually going to stay in communication with them.

Some of the stuff I’ve been writing lately isn’t exactly mainstream. It’s weird and unplanned, not like when I started and had segments and whatnot. I think a happy medium can be achieved. I’ll begin by posting something extremely arbitrary now, followed by an article next week that is planned and precise. Thanks for reading guys. I’ll be sure to give you new data on my soon to be released novel, Ledge. By the way, here’s the second chapter. Keep in mind the fonts will be different when it is actually released. Also note that I have now named all of the chapters since the completion of the story, something I didn’t do before. Here you go:

ARRIVAL

——————————————————————————————————————————–

ACCESSING FILE 019: ARRIVAL

 

DECOMPILING…

 

DECOMPILING…

 

COMPRESSING…

 

COMPRESSING…

 

LOADING…

 

FILE READY FOR VIEWING

The arrival of the angels came during the year 2063 A.D. just one decade after the end of the Fourth World War. The world had been ravaged by the war, but was rebuilding as best it could. The United States and Canada had now become the Continental Union. Mexico would soon become a part of it in the year 2067. The Continental Union was divided into nine massive states, all of which had their own laws that were unaffected by the democratic government of the Union. The Union had a few national laws, but only a few. There was great peace and unity occurring during the rebuilding period.

That all changed in 2063.

During this year, strange, bright spheres of light began appearing spontaneously in skies across the globe, but mostly focusing on the Union region, namely State 7 (which was originally the eastern coast of the United States). When these spheres would vanish something that looked along the lines of a person would fall from them, not to be seen again for some time. That is until people with fantastic abilities began getting caught on tape: walking through walls, flying, moving objects without coming in contact with them, spitting fire.

Nobody knew where they came from. Many wanted to find out.

The angels, as they were deemed by normal humans, were questioned by the people of Earth. The responses were unsettling, to say the least. Most of them didn’t seem to remember where they’d come from and only had foggy visions of their childhoods. The Union military strategists, of course, wanted to know how their powers worked. The angels, of course, didn’t know. They just did things because they could. It was like breathing for them. And so, naturally, a few were taken into custody without their consent.

An even division was made between pro-experimentation and anti-experimentation humans. Some felt that if they weren’t experimented on their weaknesses couldn’t be found, and so they’d become invincible and probably try to terrorize or enslave humanity, or, the even more radical thinkers believed, destroy it. Some felt that to detain someone without their consent, not matter what the risk, was inhumane and against the rights of the Man. This sort of thinking didn’t agree with many minds, however, as most believed that the angels were not human and from another world.

Were they from another world?

These weren’t the simplest of times and so complex issues arose. Eventually, through testing, weaknesses were discovered in the angles, and a human enhancement project began in order to make an angel hunter, codenamed: Lucifer. This was being called a precaution by the military, but really it was being done in order to further Operation: Purify, which entailed the wiping out of all angels. The ideas of angels taking over the planet didn’t seem all too wild after some time. Some angels did indeed express resentment towards the humans, thoughts of revenge even. Media outlets blew these thoughts out of proportion, and so the idea that angels were anti-Mankind spread like wildfire.

At the time of this record’s creation Lucifer has not yet been completed and angels are still in existence. Hopefully this has proven to be useful data for the future.

END OF FILE

 

REVIEW?

 

I don’t review the file. I don’t feel like it. I had never looked at it before. I’d grown up with the established views of the angels. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I were one of them, so I could do anything.

This is before Greg and his goons have broken in. I’m looking at the tablet’s touchscreen, doing nothing. How did it come to this? They’re hunted now, like dogs. And you know something’s wrong when the government hires crime lords to sick their dogs on these people.

Can’t man forgive man for evolving? Can’t man forgive man for changing?

I hear a knock at the door. Foolishly I assume it’s Sally. I’m eager to see her. I’m eager to propose to her. Well, I think I am, anyway. I haven’t quite decided whether I—.

Whack! Why the hell didn’t I look through the peep hole? Ugh. At least Michael helped me out. And now I’m in this car.

Nathaniel’s driving. Hamaliel is in the front passenger seat.

“I always wanted to try a donut dipped in juice, just once.”

That’s Nathaniel. He always talks about something pointless.

“It doesn’t seem like a very logical thing to do.”

That’s Hamaliel. He’s always talking about logic.

“Oh, come on,” Nathaniel says. “You don’t think it’d taste good?”

“I don’t think any of the meals your mind wanders to would satiate me in the slightest,” the other replies. “I believe that bacon dipped in chocolate syrup would be quite nauseating.”

“It’s delicious! Come on, Hammy. You need to eat more exciting foods. I was viewing one of those records about a show from that old website, YouTube, called—.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.”

Nathaniel snorts and tells him, “What’s the matter? You think your stomach won’t handle the very description?”

“I just ate back there, Nate.”

“And what did you eat?”

“Sushi.”

“Sushi! What kind of meal is that? And they sell it at the hotel?”

“They do.”

“Someday, I’m slipping bacon in your sushi.”

I can’t help but laugh at the two of them. Even with my nervousness over Sally, and the pain in my leg, those two still don’t fail to get a chuckle out of me. Hamaliel looks back at me and grins.

“We’re almost out of the city, Edward,” he lets me know. “We’re heading for a small safe house near the Ocoee River.”

The following American states were where State 9 of the Union now sits: Indiana, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, Wisconsin and Michigan. We’re in the Tennessee area right now, in a city near to where Chattanooga used to be. It got wiped out during the war, along with Nashville. The city we’re in’s called Remembrance. I always think of everyone who was lost when I’m here. I never really saw any of that. I was born in the year 2046. It’s now 2073. A lot’s happened in that time.

We’re exiting the city now, getting on the highway. It leads to the superhighway, but we’re not going that far ahead. The superhighway’s got cameras galore. We don’t want to run into those. Nathaniel says we’re taking the next exit and heading onto a dirt road soon. This should be interesting—I haven’t been outside a major city in some time.

I take a nap as the time passes. I dream of—.

“Wake up!”

It’s Nathaniel.

“We’re here, Eddie! Let me help you out.”

I can barely walk, but with his help I think I’ll be all right. The car doors are shut and we make our way into a fairly decently sized log cabin. There’s six rooms for its six residents: Nathaniel, Hamaliel, Michael, Raphael, Lailah and Orifiel. In case you were wondering, Lailah and Orifiel are the only two women, and Orifiel isn’t even really a woman yet. She’s only sixteen, as far as she knows. Hell, for all I know she could be two hundred. We still don’t know where these guys came from or what their purpose is.

Don’t ask me how they got the cabin by the way, I haven’t the slightest notion. They probably bought it off someone. It’s too well designed for them to have built it themselves.

I don’t look around much, but I’m quickly taken into Raphael’s room and laid on the floor. And there he is, long blonde hair and all.

“What the hell happened to him?” he asks. Hamaliel answers him with, “There was shooting. Michael saved him.”

Nathaniel adds the missing detail, “Mike says we’ve got to get going soon.”

Raphael’s eyes grow thin as he says, “What do you mean?”

“We won’t be able to stay hidden long,” Hamaliel tells the healer. Which reminds me…

“Uh, guys,” I say aloud, “I don’t mean to break you all up, but I’m kind of in pain down here.”

Raphael gets down on his knees and unbinds the blanket piece around my wound. I wince as he puts his hand over it, but feel the warm flow of energy pass into it. The wound closes slowly, and then his hand goes over my beaten face, which heals in a similar manner.

Ahhhh…

“Good,” Raphael says as he stands up. “Now, Hammy, Nate, let’s talk.”

I carefully get to my feet, testing my walking for a bit. As the three exit the room Raphael looks back and says, “Feel free to take a seat on my bed. This might take a bit.”

I do so, and as I do I await word of what the next move is.

Don’t worry Sally, you’ll be safe soon…

…I hope.

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They said “Enter title here,” but I didn’t want to…

17 Dec

Hello, young muskrats! It’s the Christmas Season, and I figured I’d let you all, who aren’t even probably listening, know that on December 12, 2012, on the twelfth second of the twelfth minute of the twelfth hour, I announced the completion of my upcoming novel, Ledge. I’d give you all another taste, but frankly I can’ decide which chapter to show. The second one is definitely something to read straight from the book. Until I decide, I guess I’ll just say The Hobbit was awesome and that because I saw it on premiere night I got to witness the opening scene of Star Trek Into Darkness, which was also awesome. Also, what happened in Connecticut really sucks. To the families of those who died, don’t worry, I’m sure something good will come your way even after this tragedy has occurred. God bless you. Lastly, Happy Holidays everyone. You spin those dreidels.

Sincerely,

D.

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They said the title was optional…

15 Nov

Okay, so I know I’ve been writing stuff lately that’s completely unrelated to everything that ever happens anywhere. So, today, I shall now attempt to do the exact opposite and provide you with actual art. So, here it is, the first chapter of my next book. If you steal it, I will find you and kill you. It’ll be published by the end of the year. This is not the format you’ll see it in. The chapter (or “episode” in this case) has no name. I won’t be naming the chapters until I’ve finished the book. It’s over two hundred pages now, I think. I hope you enjoy this section.

P.S.- If there are spelling errors and you point them out to me, I will consider that legitimate grounds to do the same thing I’d do if you stole this Holy God awesome work of art. Thank you, jerks.

————————————————————————————————————————————–

Ledge

EPISODE ONE

There’s darkness, and then the curtains are drawn back. Time starts. His thumb moves. Click. That’s the sound of the gun’s hammer getting pulled back.

“Still won’t talk, Mr. Adams?”

That’s Greg. He isn’t holding the gun. Mac’s holding the gun. Mac’s seven feet tall, or something.

“Hit him again, Mac.”

Whack! That’s me getting punched in the face by a left hook. The gun’s in his right hand, not aimed at anything in particular yet.

“Come on, Adams. We don’t got all day. Just tell us where your friend is and we’ll let you go.”

My friend is Michael. I won’t tell Greg anything. I think my jaw’s broken anyway. It hurts like hell.

“Adams…”

We’re in a hotel room. It’s got a nice view overlooking Lake Oslana. That wasn’t the lake’s first name, but the owner of the hotel line decided it’d be a nice one to buy. I wonder what it was called originally.

“You know how easy this is. And it’s not like we’re gonna backstab you or anything. Just let us at him!”

I wish Greg would get it over with and have my ass capped already. There’s no way I’m exposing Michael—no way. I really hope he doesn’t come in and try to save me or anything.

AGH! GOOD GOD!

“That’s strike one. Next we put a bullet in your other thigh. Might be hard to walk around. Start talking.”

Jesus Christ, it hurts so much! Keep it together, Eddie! Be cool! You’ll make it out of this. Just need a plan.

Greg’s looking over at the other two men in the room, Mac not being one of them. He says something to them, but I can’t hear it very well. It HURTS!

“…and if we’re not quick enough, the Doctor might wonder what’s taking so long!”

The Doctor: a psychotic crime lord with one eye and one hand. There’s an eye patch over the eye (no, no hook). He seems threatening to most people. Not to me. He’s just an ugly old man to me.

Whack! Another punch. The Doctor REALLY wants Michael dead, huh?

“We may have to waterboard it out of this guy,” says one of the other men. I don’t know his name, just some random goon with a gun. I hope Greg doesn’t agree.

“Get the rags,” he says. Now I’m done for. I won’t be able to hold out through that stuff. I hope Michael left the country. It’s not safe here in State 9 anymore, not with all that’s been happening lately.

A lot of time passes once the third man exits to get the rags. I give Greg an indifferent look, he shoots a glare. I give Mac the same look and he just snorts and walks off, dropping the gun on a sofa chair. He talks quietly with the last man in the room (just another goon).

“Why do you care so much?” Greg asks me. I become introspective and really analyze this before I answer, and then I shrug seeing as nothing I say will prove satisfactory. If I told him how Michael saved me, how he was different from the other you-know-whats, he wouldn’t understand. He’d just say I was a nutcase who needed his head examined.

After the course of fifteen minutes (it felt like a lot more to me), the rags arrive with the third man. He tosses them to Mac, who catches them with ease.

“Did you bring the bottles too?” Greg asks.

“They’re just outside sir,” the man responds. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

The chair I’m strapped to is made of wood. It is laid across the floor, me now facing the ceiling. This is going to suck.

“You could always talk now,” Greg offers. I remain silent, like a good friend should, and the rags are placed over my face. I toss my head to the left, throwing the rags off. When a hard punch hits me in the—Lord, that hurts!—face I stopped turning. The rags go over my face again. I think my nose is bleeding.

One of the water bottles is opening, I can hear it. Here it comes. Mac’s tilting it right now. Get out now Michael. Get out before they find y—CRASH!

“What the—?!”

The sound of men being tossed about the room echoes through my ears. Bullets fly from Mac’s gun, but it explodes in his hand, causing him to shout in pain. The other two goons fire but are launched into the ceiling, their necks snapping. I can hear Greg being pinned against the wall. Mac is groaning and weeping on the floor as the rags are lifted off my face.

Michael.

“Get out of here!” I tell him. He unties the ropes that bind me and helps me into a sofa chair. There’s Greg, being held against the wall by Michael’s power.

“An angel never leaves his friends behind,” he tells me, before looking to Greg with an expressionless face. One of the guns of the dead goons soars toward his hand. He aims it at the leader of the group, now begging for mercy.

“To harm an ally of mine is to hang oneself,” the angel says. Then a red mark appears between the eyes of Greg and blood trickles down from it until it reaches his lips. The body falls to the floor, lifeless as ever. Michael looks back at me.

“Are you all right, Edward?”

“Yeah,” I lie, “I’m dandy. You showed up just in time. Although I still think you need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “WE are getting out of Dodge, not I.”

“I have to see Sally first.”

Sally’s my girlfriend. She’s—she’s beautiful. I haven’t quite decided whether I’ll marry her yet. We’ve been steady for a few years now.

“No time,” Michael tells me, causing my further worry. “Those were easy hunters. If they send Lucifer—.”

“I can’t just leave her. They’ll kill her!”

I’m standing now, but my leg hurts too much. I’m trembling as I fall back into the chair. Michael holds a hand to were the bullet is and slowly—YAGH—levitates it out of me. I’m not bleeding too bad. Okay, maybe I AM bleeding too bad. But he’s already ripping a bed sheet apart and wrapping a piece of it around the wound.

“That should stop the bleeding. Raphael will be able to heal you later.”

“Michael, I can’t leave her.”

His face, though without expression, holds weight behind it like you couldn’t imagine. His eyes waver and glow. And then, he understands.

“I will get you to safety first. The others are downstairs with a car. I’ll let them get you out of here, then I’ll get the girl.”

I’m thinking of disagreeing, thinking of telling him I have to be there when it happens. But that’d be foolish right now. I need healing, and Raphael’s always been the quickest at that.

“All right, fine. Let’s go.”

He nods. We depart. Mac looked dead last I checked.

This world has changed since the war. I can only hope that doing what I’m doing will help save it from its own self-destruction. Although, to be honest, when I look outside at the dystopia that has come, I can’t help but lose hope entirely.

We’re hanging on a ledge right now. I really hope Man’s fingers don’t get any more tired than they already are.

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AW MAH GAWSH! ELECTIONSSSSS!!!!

6 Nov

“We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us.”

–Andrew Ryan, BioShock

“There’s a reason why this prison is the worst Hell on Earth: hope. Every man who has ventured here over the centuries has looked up to the light and imagined climbing to freedom. So easy. So simple. And like shipwrecked men turning to seawater from uncontrollable thirst, many have died trying.”
 —Bane, The Dark Knight Rises

“Once a man has seen society’s black underbelly, he can never turn his back on it. Never pretend, like you do, that it doesn’t exist.”
 —Rorschach, Watchmen

This is an obligatory post. Every post is an obligatory post. But this is more obligatory than usual. Why? Because the Old America is about to either collapse and die under its own weight or be revitalized into a New America, more powerful than the old, an America with a surplus and a strong economy. We hear that word a lot, don’t we? What does it even mean?

e·con·o·my

noun /iˈkänəmē/
economies, plural

  1. The wealth and resources of a country or region, esp. in terms of the production and consumption of goods and services.
  2. A particular system or stage of an economy.
    • – A free-market economy is very workable.
    • – The less-developed economies were able to grow over time.
  3. Careful management of available resources
    • – The vehicle has even heat distribution and fuel economy.
  4. Sparing or careful use of something
    • – The writer had economy of words in all of his stories.
  5. A financial saving
    • – There were many economies to be made by giving up our offices in Manhattan.
  6. The cheapest class of air or rail travel
    • – We flew economy.

adjective /iˈkänəmē/

  1. (of a product) Offering the best value for the money
    • – We to a look at an economy pack.
  2. Designed to be economical to use
    • – I’ve never seen an economy car, not really.

Well, now that we’ve fully defined the word, I think we can have an educated discussion concerning the economy. That being said, since you aren’t brave enough to leave a comment re the economy, we will probably never have that discussion.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go put some pants on. This obligatory blog post has been brought to you by BioShock.

Poem of the Year

9 Jan

This is something I recently saw (and loved) while reading The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. I have decided, after reading it, that it shall be the poem of this year that shall judge what happens throughout this year and shall be a vision of what is yet to come. All that stuff aside though, this is cool stuff (in my opinion). Here it is:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:
The crownless again shall be king.

That is from the first of J.R.R. Tolkien’s fine trilogy (well, it was six books if you’re being technical). May the year ahead be grand, and may it bring good fortune to those who deserve it.

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