2015 - Year of The Thistle?

    This past few months have been hectic, hence the lack of posting. I've been trying to finish the rough draft of the 2nd novel, survive the holidays, and make it through this year.  Needless to say, I'm looking forward to 2015. I already got plans and goals in place I hope I can acheive. Until then, see y'all next year, and I hope you had a good holiday.

"No Victors"

Authority for the minority.
Anarchy for the majority.
Anger tears down the walls
That separates our society.
Fires of change are upon us.
Skin color no longer matters
All will be stain red by blood
As we fight our fellow man.
The fanatics blaming religion,
But it's a war of their morals.
We need to look past our skin,
And find a solution for peace.
Racism is the tragic epidemic
That has survived for centuries.
Now being fueled by greed.
Poor fighting in rich men's war.
One switch, and life will end
In a fiery mushroom cloud.
There will be no victors.
Only our charred remains.

"Gave Their All"

(Inspired by this song)

Most of them gave some,

And some gave their all.

A single bullet or grenade

Caused them to sadly fall.

For us, sacrificing their life

To protect our freedoms.

We'll never meet that father

Who lost a daughter or son.

They return aboard Galaxies

America's flag is their blanket.

They're taking to their home,

A grave marked by granite.

Most of them gave some,

And some gave their all.

The ones that do return

Only put up mental walls.

They mourn their friends,

And try to forget the pain.

Memories of their battles

Are scars on their brains.

They'll never leave the war.

They live it every single day.

They're treated like outcasts,

And they try to find their way.

They turn to booze and pills

Trying to adjust to civilian life.

Wishing they died out there

Trying to defeat internal strife.

Never know what they saw.

What horrors they witnessed

While servicing our country

On their countless missions.

We can only show support.

We will never comprehend

Their lives forever altered,

In battles with their friends.

Most of them gave some,

And some gave their all.

Sacrificed so much for us,

With pride, they stand tall.

"Unkind Words"

Tears burn like acid.

Words cut like knives.

Passion burns like fire.

Lighting of anger strikes.

Rain of sadness is falling

As the fight carries on.

Neither side backs down

Until the crack of dawn.

A home is now broken.

She walks out the door.

Leaving them in the cold

On a trash-covered floor.

He picks up their child,

And leaves it all behind.

He drives out of state,

Despite her on his mind.

Tears burn like acid.

Words cut like knives.

Regret churning inside.

Still in love with his wife.

He makes his way home.

Finds her in the kitchen.

Speaks from his heart.

She cries as she listens.

A family almost torn

Is whole once again.

Their love was tested

With hatred and pain.

Many years have passed.

The bond remains strong

A home occupied by love.

Hearts filled with a song.

Tears burned like acid.

Words cut like knives.

Never were unkind words

Articulated in their lives.

"Hell Awaits" - Mature

(WARNING: This is a poem for a horror story I plan on writing one day. There are some very disturbing scenes, which include mutilation. Read at your own risk.)

Trying to stay calm.

A ticking time bomb.

Ready to bring pain,

And see blood rain.

I'm wound too tight.

Looking for a fight.

Bash in a few skulls

In a fucking brawl.

The pin was pulled.

About to kill a fool.

She talked much shit,

But has a busted lip.

One swing of a bat.

I hear her rib crack.

I cackle as she pleas

While on her knees.

I pull out my knife.

She begs for her life.

I use the bat instead.

Bashing in her head.

I dance in such glee.

Her blood all over me.

The corpse quivers

As I slice out her liver.

Feel free as I consume,

And cut open the womb.

Two souls taken tonight.

Filled with such delight.

I walk out of the street.

Dragging her by her feet.

I'm greeted by the police.

Ordering me to my knees.

I cackle as I stand there.

Bullets fly through the air.

One strikes me in the chest,

And they make the arrest.

End up in a padded room,

Hell awaits their doom.

A demon will save me.

My soul will be freed.

11/05/14 Update

Within the next week, I'm going to start posting technology related posts. I'm a computer nerd, and love to write. So, why not combine them both?. The first one will be about the tools for a writer. I've been testing a few different word processors, and will write a review about them.

"The Mirror" - WTF - T

            The morning sun enters the blinds, I slowly my eyes and stretch as I wake up from my morning slumber. I roll over, and see my master still sleeping. I wiggle out from under my blanket, and walk over to him. I see his eyes are still closed despite my paws on his chest. I begin to wag my tail and lick his face to wake him up.

            "Stop, Buckshot! Stop!" he shouts as he pushes me away.

            "It's morning!" I bark. "Time to play!"

            "Five more minutes, you damn mutt," Master replies.            

            I tug at his blanket while growling," No! Now!"

            He kicks the blanket off of him, and rolls out of the bed. I sit down next to him on his pillow, and give his elbow a slight lick while whimpering lightly. He reaches over, and lazily rubs my ears.

            "We'll go out in a few minutes, girl," he says while rubbing my ears.

            He gets off the bed, and disappears behind the door where he keeps his fire hydrant. As he's in there, my ears perk up as I hear a strange scratching noise.

            "Intruder! Intruder!" I bark loudly.

            "Shut up, Buckshot!" Master shouts from behind the door as I hear his hydrant make that weird flush noise. He opens the door and says, "Too early for the barking."

            I smell something in the hydrant room. I rush in and sniff around. I look up at the mirror and see Master in it smiling. However, the smell is completely different. He doesn't smell like rain, but garbage. I put my front paws on the counter and begin growling.

            "Intruder, Master!" I growl at the mirror. "Come quick!"

            Master walks in and grabs my collar. He pulls me away from the mirror while telling me sternly," Quit the barking! No one is in the bathroom. Now, let's go outside."

            He drags me by my collar to the door, and opens it. Once outside, he slams the door close, and lets go of my collar. He sits down on his chair, and lights up one his sticks that makes smoke. I keep staring at the door as the smell gets stronger. I growl as I hear something move inside the house.

            "Get away from the door, Buckshot. What has gotten into you, you stubborn dog?" says Master.

            "Intruder," I whimper as I lower my head. I slowly walk over, and lay down on his feet.

            He finishes his stick and gets up. "All right, inside," he says as he walks over to the door. As he opens the door, I hear a noise in the mirror. I rush pass Master, and look into the mirror. This time, there's no Master in the mirror, but the smell still lingers.

            Master walks in, and says, "Get out so I can shower!"

            "Intruder," I bark.

            "Out!"

            I sulk out of the hydrant room, and lay down on the bed. Despite me going in there barking about an intruder, Master leaves the door open as he takes a bath. As he steps out, the smell gets stronger and stronger. This time, I can smell smoke as Master stands in front of the mirror.

            I creep over to the door, and peek in. Master begins to shave the fur off his muzzle. As he shaves, he winces in pain. I see blood on his muzzle. He grabs a towel to wipe it away, but before he can, another person who looks like Master leans out of the mirror and licks it off Master's cheek as Master watches there frozen.

            Master trembles as the room begins to fill with smoke as the fake Master steps out of the mirror onto the counter. I growl and try to pounce onto fake Master, but something throws me out of the room. I land hard on the floor as I whimper in pain. I try to pull myself off the floor, but something is holding me to the floor.

            I'm able to turn my head towards the mirror as I watch the room fill with flames. I try to bark, but I can't open my mouth all the way. I lay there whimpering as I watch fake Master pick up Master by the throat. Fake Master opens his mouth as I watch a blue mist leave Master's mouth. A few minutes later, fake Master tosses Master next to me cackling as the hydrant room is filled with fire.

            I manage to crawl my way over to Master. I lick his cheek, and yelp as his skin is ice cold. I nuzzle my nose against his face, but he won't move. I whimper as I rest my head against his chest.

            "One soul for my master," says Fake Master. "This All Hallow's Eve will see many more consumed."      

            As I lay there, I watch as the flames move closer. I make one last whimper as I hear a loud snap...

"The Skull"

A gallon of gasoline.

A single unlit match.

Bad ideas inside me.

Internal demons clash.

They pushed too far,

And left me bleeding.

Inside a wrecked car,

They sit there pleading.

Angel on my shoulder.

Tries to calm me down.

My heart grows colder;

Gas being tossed around.

Screaming for their lives

As they breathe in fumes.

Silence them with a knife

As fire seals their doom.

I laugh as the flames rise.

Burning away their souls.

I dance as their skin fry.

Peeling away from skulls.

I take her skull as a token.

The end of my hardship.

I smile. It's still smoking.

I finally killed the bitch.

I always hated Mother.

Treated me like a slave.

While praising my brother.

Both now in a fiery grave.

"The Beast Within"

I'm losing control.
My humanity is gone.
Instinct taking over.
The beast is awake.
Light turns to dark.
Spiraling into chaos.
Hungering for blood.
The beast is now free.
Craving the violence.
Howling at the moon.
I'm no longer human,
But the monster within.
My flesh is now fur.
Teeth turn into fangs.
Claws on my hands.
Rage is driving me.
I run into the streets.
To cure my bloodlust.
To release all my rage.
Stalking my next prey.
The city of the damned.
Ready for the slaughter.
I find them in an alley.
Raping a young woman.
Never saw me coming,
But they felt my fangs.
Blood and guts splatter.
As I shred them apart.
The girl runs in panic.
Screaming," Monster!"
I finish off the last one;
Disappear into darkness.
Blood still on my claws.
As I howl at my victory.
The beast is now content.
I turn back into a lost soul.
Another sheep in the flock.
Cops look for the monster;
They don't have to look far.
A deep look in any mirror
Will show anyone the truth.
Inside all of us lives a beast.
Some refuse to accept this.
I will show them the truth.
Not all beasts are visible.
The scariest remain hidden.
One by one, they'll be slain
By the beast within my soul.

"Hidden By Lies"

The full moon is crying
As all the angels mourn.
Demons are now clawing
Through the silver thorns.
Alas, the throne is vacant.
The proud king has fallen.
The empire in total disarray.
The royal guards are calling.
I watch this in total awe;
The sides are being drawn.
The queen in total shock.
Our peace is forever gone.
The heavens begin to erupt;
Battle swords begin to clash.
As they fight over the crown.
The kingdom burns to ash.
The demons defeat the guards.
The castle is now under siege.
Alone, I protect The Queen;
A vow broken with my Liege.
I unleash the beast within.
My demon side sees light.
A secret hidden within me.
The Queen faints with fright.
I leap out into the courtyard,
And begin my vicious attack.
I fight within the castle walls.
My powers are not held back.
By dawn, we are victorious.
The blood of enemies had ran.
The castle is once again safe.
Over the fallen bodies, I stand.
Even though I am a monster,
The Queen made me a knight.
In our darkest hours, I fought.
Exposing my secret that night.
To this day, the demon is free;
No need to hide in my disguise.
I have been pardon by the crown;
My life is no longer hidden by lies.

"Techno-zombies"

Lost in the world of tweets.

Human voice is now obsolete.

The thoughts of expressions

Oppressed by character limits.

Fear broadcasts on screens.

A cure promised with a like.

Share this to grant a vacation.

News filled by celebrity drama.

We're being fed fictional reality.

And worship talent less stupidity.

Alas, true art is lost in the decay.

Imagination is slowly dying out.

The unwillingness to learn or think

Outside of the glow of the screen.

Unlimited information on the web;

Made useless due to sheer laziness.

Trouble solving no longer being used.

We are slowly turning into drones.

The downward decline in society.

When did silicon overtake flesh?

The most powerful computer ever

Underused and under appreciated.

The device should only be a tool,

But are we evolving into a tool?

I pray we go back to the old times

And we use our minds much more.

The future I see is bleak and dreary

Instead of ruling, we are the slaves

Ruled by the machines we created.

Instead of aiming for a million views,

Let's aim to strive for a perfect Utopia.

A paradise where we sail amongst stars,

United as one race in distant galaxies.

Until we can overlook our differences,

This will never happen any time soon.

We are too locked away in our hearts,

Doomed to become techno-zombies.

Until we look with our eyes and heart,

Instead through a digital camera lens,

Will never become one race united.

"Rise"

Life is never black and white.

The truth hides in the shadows.

Lies wear a suit on the screen.

One day, the truth shall rise up,

Will it be too late to save us?

Ignorance can be bliss at times

Blinded by deception's haze.

As you try to find your way

Through the maze of bullshit.

You're tired of being deceived,

Stabbed in the back by allies.

All they really want to experience

Is your dreams to fall and shatter.

You got to rise up and fight back.

Tell your naysayers to fuck off.

Leave them behind in the chaos

Find the order amongst anarchy.

Only you can make your destiny.

Fight for the life you long to live.

Rise out of the ashes of the past

Like the mighty phoenix reborn.

Ignite the single match of change,

And start the fire of redemption.

Burn brightly till the bitter end.

When your soul is extinguished.

10/07/14 Update

Starting today, I'm going to include a fiction tag on anything I post that's fictional. I'm mostly doing this because some of my poems can be taken as serious. So, if you see the fiction tag, don't worry.

"A Life For A Life"

She was lost, but was found.

Head was always in the clouds.

Feet never touched the ground.

She never fit in with any crowds.

Always the wild and free spirit.

Never gave a damn about critics

No timid thoughts, just fearless.

Pushed me to live with no limits.

Then that one night it all changed.

We said things that weren't kind.

She and I became very estranged.

After that fight, you left me behind.

Now, I will never get the chance.

To tell her how I live with sorrow.

That I threw away our romance.

Since her funeral is tomorrow.

All I can do is sob on the floor.

As I feel responsible for the loss.

I cannot take the guilt any more.

Due to pride, she paid the cost.

This is me accepting the blame,

Longing that I could tell her this.

I will be burning in Hell's flames

For I already slit open my wrist.

This is my confession on paper.

I killed her that cold winter night.

When I held her and raped her.

For my sin, I am taking my life.

"The Damnation"

            I wake up drenched in sweat as thunder rattles my bedroom windows. I slowly pull myself off the soaked sheet, and groggily sit up. I stare at the pouring rain as I try to clear the pounding headache caused by the hangover I tied on last night at the pub. I glance at the clock on my phone and curse Nature for waking me up so early. The wedding isn't another 12 hours from now, but the light show outside won't let me sleep.

            I stand up, and wobble into the living room. As I walk by the couch in the dark, I hear the voice of my fiancée Sarah.

            "About time you woke up, "she says. "How was your bachelor party?"

            "It was good. Why are you sitting in the dark?" I ask.

            "Power went out an hour ago," she replies. "They will send out a tech once the storm passes."

            "What time did you get home last night from your bridal shower?" I inquire as I sit down on the couch.

            "I can't remember. You?" Sarah asks.

            "Some time after two I guess," I state as I feel my head now throbbing.

            "The headache will pass soon, dear. In fact, your hangover will be gone as well."

            "I hope. I hate working feeling like shit," I say as I feel her hand rest on mine. I shudder a little for it feels cold and clammy.

            "It will happen sooner then you think," she states. "I already cured mine."

            "How did you cure it so quickly?"

            "In a few minutes, you will find out."

            I sit there perplexed in the dark as I'm trying to figure out how she cured her hangover so quickly if she didn't get home before I got home. I'm also curious why she crashed on the couch, and didn't come into the bedroom. Then again, she might have been so drunk, her friends decided to lay her down on the couch instead of trying to put her into bed. Either way, the fact the power is out is not a great way to start what is supposed to be a happy day.

            She moves her hand up my arm, causing me to jerk it back. Her hands are ice cold. I'm almost tempted to grab my phone to have some light, but the way my stomach is gurgling, I'm afraid to move.  However, I hear a loud pop over my head, and my stomach stops gurgling. Also, my headache goes away like someone flipped off a switch to cure my hangover. However, my neck feels stiff as I gasp for air for a minute.

            "Hey! My hangover is gone!" I exclaim out of shock as my breathing returns to normal.

            "I told you," replies Sarah.

            I hear another popping sound, and the lights come on. Dangling a few feet from my face is a pair of feet hanging over an overturned step ladder. I look up, and start screaming as I see my body dangling from ceiling. My face is lifeless as a noose is tight around my neck. In my hand is a bloody chef's knife. I glance over to Sarah, and see blood has stained her entire chest from the slit in her throat.

            "This is all a dream," I state as I stare at the corpse hanging from the ceiling. "This is not real.

            The corpse lifts its head and moans, "This is not a dream. This is Hell. "

            "This is all a dream," I whine as I see Sarah's body begin to self-combust into a ball of flames.  

            "You cheated on her, and you decided that Sarah  didn't deserve to live a life. You will now be faithful in your own living nightmare," my corpse moans.  "Enjoy rotting in the flames of Hell!"

            I'm about to say something when Sarah grabs my hand and says, "Our souls are now entwined for eternity. Instead of Heaven, we'll be wedded in Hell."

            I scream as everything erupts into flames. The last thing I remember before everything went black was my corpse laughing as the world burned around me.  The last thing I ever heard before I was consumed by the flames was my corpse stating, "Your souls will never experience love, but hatred for each other. Enjoy the damnation!"

"A Few Days With Windows 8"

         I promised I would write a blog post about my experiences with Windows 8. I also promised I would run it for a week, but I'm typing this on Windows 7. I'm at the point if it wasn't the fact I need Windows for work, I would be running Linux.
         The main reason I went back to 7 is 8 is not designed for power users. The Start Screen aka Metro is total nonsense if you run more than one program at time. Loading Metro takes up the entire screen. Even Solitaire took up an entire screen. Also, some things you could adjust were taking away, and some things now require more steps. In other words, if you TRULY use a PC, you have three options to make a new PC work:

1) If you know what you are doing, wipe out Windows 8 and install 7.
2) Spend the extra money and have the manufacture install 7.
3) Install a program such as Classic Shell to make 8 bearable, like I had to do on someone else's PC because they got tired of searching for their programs..

          Overall, Windows 8 is great for tablets, or people who run one program at a time. For people like me that use the Start Menu for everything, look away. Luckily, there is a rumor that they are bringing back the Start Menu in Windows 9, which is supposed to be out by summer of 2015. Until then, sticking to Windows 7, which is being supported by Microsoft till 2020.

"A Vow"

Trying to escape.

Avoiding my fate.

Life's falling apart.

Light turns to dark.

Questioning reality.

As I face a tragedy.

I try to stay strong,

Yet it all feels wrong.

One flame went out.

I give in to my doubt.

I pray for good news.

Despite feeling blue.

A call came overnight.

Everything is all right.

Worry leaves my soul.

They'll keep growing old.

My heart is already torn,

But healing from mourn.

Losing both this close.

Would lead me to throe.

I pray that by that day.

I have something to say.

That I can make proud.

This is something I vow.

“Word By Word”

A thousand random thoughts

Leading to unfinished stories.

Words spread across a page;

Not even a complete sentence.

The spark has slowly died out.

Fizzled before I could shine.

I'm trying to reignite the flame,

And finish what I have started.

Have to break down the wall

That I built up inside my head.

Tearing it down word by word.

My creativity is breaking free,

And spreading like a wild fire.

Text flowing across the screen

Like a mighty river of black ink.

One word turning into hundreds.

A plot growing like a mighty oak.

Another chapter turns into a novel.

The ending is now within my sight.

“Her Last Breath”

A discarded journal.

A faded photograph.

A worn wedding dress.

Memories of the past.

Love that endured time

Till his very last breath.

The flames of romance

Snuffed out by his death.

She lost the only reason

To carry on with her life.

She loved him till the end.

Was proud to be his wife.

She died exactly one year

Succumbing to loneliness.

Without his love at her side,

She felt she was hopeless.

She was buried next to him.

Faithful till her last breath.

She loved him till the end.

A love separated by death.

"A Strange Day"

Today is a very strange day.

The drunken bears are afraid,

The midgets feel like poopoo;

No flying crabs in pink tutus.

So, pass me whatever booze.

I have no liver or sanity to lose.

I'm ready to escape this scene,

And rage against the machine.

I want to run around in panties

While singing Klingon shanties.

I want to ride the pink unicorn

That has a bong for their horn.

I'm trying to shake the paranoia

While I talk with a giant sequoia.

His tea made everything clearer

As I see a monkey in the mirror.

The tree decides I need to leave

As the mushrooms begin to grieve.

I end up riding the toy gravy boat

Over a wide Guinness-filled moat.

Filled with fish made out of bacon,

Frogs talking like they're Jamaican,

And whales that are singing Primus

While sharks ride a plaid short bus.

I end up landing in a room of clouds

Filled with gorillas in maroon shrouds.

They hand me a magical trench coat.

Made from the hide of a drunken goat.

The elephant doctor hands me candy,

And tells me everything will be dandy.

They put me in front of a huge television.

While mice with abacus do long division.

I end up fall asleep on a bed of kittens

While watching a documentary on mittens.

I wake up the next morning on a train.

Heading to Insanityland in pouring rain.

They are making me their newest king.

As they feed me beer and buffalo wings.

I'm off to enjoy my new life as royalty

As I say adios to this sad, boring reality.

“Path of Destruction”

This must be a bad dream.
Sadly, this is not a fantasy.
Can they hear my screams?
No one cares in your reality.
It is a gloomy state of affairs.
No compassion or empathy.
Greed is your only real care.
Fueled by your own jealousy.
This is not a dream anymore;
A living nightmare we created.
Everything leads to a total war.
Fueled by zealously and hatred.
How did we fix this ignorance?
How did we go back to peace?
Can we put aside our differences?
Before Earth is blown into pieces?
It will end tragically for the Earth.
Your nature leads to destruction.
Till the last man is turned into dirt.
Ignorance will lead to extinction.
This path of destruction is now set.
Nothing will change humanity's fate.
Not even world peace will offset.
This planet's zealous, war-torn state.
I am here as a neutral observer
A race concerned of your future.
You have created your destroyer
When man finally went nuclear.
There is nothing that we can do?
Nothing to stop total annihilation?
A day in the future out of the blue,
We will obliterate all free nations?
Sadly, all you can do is make plans
To live amongst the stars and moons.
This will be the only chance for man
To escape Earth's unfortunate doom.
Alas, I have to return to my own galaxy
They want me home when it does start.
Sorry to tell such bad news and agony,
Be different if man listened to the heart.

"Shine"

Only have one choice.
Stop fleeing; fucking fight.
Time to raise your voice.
Fight for your damn life.
Forget all the nonsense
Leave your past behind.
Focus on your present.
Never fade away; shine.
You'll get knocked down.
Bearing wounds and scars.
Yet you get off the ground.
Fighting to reach the stars.
Nothing holding you down.
Only doubt and your fears.
Rise above and conquer all.
Fight through pain and tears.
Dreams will wither and die;
Never give up on yourself
Your only limit is the sky.
Always believe in oneself.

"The Techno Joneses"

I'm going to warn everyone now that this is a small techno-rant. It won't be filled with terms that you have to Google, so don't worry about that. It's more about how the industry is really driven, and whom they focus on the most. Also, why some things are made they way they are.

The technology industry overall isn't driven by the geeks, but the average consumer aka Joe. The reason is the average geek will only buy the technology they will actually use, and will learn everything about it. A consumer will buy every new gadget that comes but will never learn the basics. It's the electronic form of "keeping up with The Joneses".

Now, since Joe buys everything, the market is now catering towards Joe. The perfect example of this catering is Windows 8. Windows 8 was driven by the fact tablets are becoming more common then PC's in most households, and some people had shortcuts to everything on their desktop screens. Also, there are people honestly think that Start Menu is only used to turn off the PC.

Do I hate where technology is going? Overall, yes. In the old days, you had to learn the device in order do anything with it. Now, it's click this app to do what you want. This means people spend money on all this new tech, and won't even learn the basics. Instead, they will call someone else to configure their shiny new toy, and get frustrated because they can't use it.

In the end, it's all about having the toys to show off despite not needing them, much less using them to their full potential. Call me old-fashioned, but I will always prefer having a "chunky" desktop to 90% of the newest devices. Then again, I learned what I do buy, and learn everything I can about it. I don't need to show off technology, but I rather one day show off the work I've done on them when I do become a famous novelist.

"The Painter"

An empty canvas
On a stormy day.
No color at all.
The world's gray.
He takes a long walk
To ease his mind.
Rain invigorates him.
Stress left behind.
He heads back home.
And begins painting.
Brushes fly furiously.
Till sunlight's fading.
The final brushstroke.
A finished masterpiece.
He gets into his bed
A much needed sleep.
Passed during the night.
Found the next morn.
Out of a tragic death,
A magnum opus is born.

"Moving?"

I’m thinking of starting a new site soon. I’m not sure exactly, but will post the new link if I do. This site has gotten a lot of traffic recently, and would hate to lose all the readers. If I do, will move most of the posts from here so you can still enjoy them. Again, just an idea, but not sure if I really want to start over. If anyone has any suggestions for a good blogging site, please share.

"Linda Rella" - M - WTF

She sighs as she stares into the hotel bathroom, her green eyes twitching at the horror before her as her nose cringes at the odor it smells. The bachelor party that stayed here last night decided to use every surface as a toilet. There's puke and who know what else covering every inch of the marble surface, including the white tile ceiling. She closes the door, and heads back to her cart in the hallway outside the hotel room. She quickly pulls out her rubber boots, and some thick rubber gloves. Now ready to tackle the mess, she heads back in.

An hour later, she finally cleans up the mess when she hears a voice behind her.

"Linda, I need you to finish up here soon, and go to Room 542. Kid puked all over the bed," states her boss, Tim.

"All I have to do in here is change the sheets," she replies as she tosses her gloves into the trashcan. Her black hair sticking to her face as the sweat pours down her cheeks.

"Good. Change them, and head right to that room," Tim orders as he leaves.

"Yes, sir" she replies.

She quickly finishes the room, and heads down the hall. As she waits for the elevator, a very young boy tugs on her apron.

She bends and asks, "Yes, sir?"

"You're an ugly woman," the boy says as his parents stand here quietly, their eyes wide in disbelief at the statement the boy said.

"Why thank you, sir," replies Linda smiling. She can never fault a child for being honest.

"Welcome," says the boy as he skips onto the elevator.

She is about to enter when the father stops her from entering the elevator by holding his arm across the doorway.

"You can take the next one, sir," says the father while giving Linda an evil look. "I don't to expose my boy to your kind."

"As you wish, sir," Linda replies as she rolls her eyes. The father is a typical person she deals with on a daily basis. They take one look at her, and act like she's a leper or a burden on society. Then again, the fact she's house cleaning doesn't help her much. They see her as a maid, and go on with their mundane lives. They never see the tortured soul inside her skin, or the woman struggling to pay bills.

Later that evening, she finally clocks out after ten hours of cleaning up all bodily fluids imagined, and getting snide comments from hotel guests. She tosses her soiled apron into a plastic bag she carries her backpack as she leaves the hotel. She quickly makes it to the bus, and heads home.

As she enters her apartment, she quickly kicks off her heels, and slumps onto the couch. Exhausted, she takes off her wig, and tosses it onto the coffee table. She leans back and yawns when she hears the front door slam.

"Get up, Carl!" orders the voice. "It's dinner time."

"Give me a few minutes, John,” Carl nervously replies as he keeps lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling. "I only walked in a minute ago."

"Take your ass out of your Linda uniform, and make dinner!" shouts John while slamming the door.

“Fine!” snaps back Carl as he stands up. He is about to walk off when he feels a hand grab his arm. He turns around and sees John's nostrils flaring with a look of range in John's brown eyes.

John grabs Carl by his work shirt, and slaps him across the face.” What did I hear you say?” John shouts as he throws Carl to the floor.

“Sorry, John. Dinner will be started in a minute," Carl replies as he pulls himself off the floor.

“That's what I thought!” John shouts before storming off down the hall.

Carl drags himself into the kitchen while cursing under his breath. He shouldn't fear his stepbrother John, but because of that night in Vegas, he does. Despite all the claims it was consensual, Carl was wasted due to all the drinks John kept giving him through the evening. Since that day, he's become very submissive to John, almost to the point he's John's bitch. He wants to end this relationship with his stepbrother, but he fears what will happen if he does, to the point he's afraid for his life.

A few minutes later, the front door slams again. Carl glances up, and sees his second stepbrother Max at the door. A gorilla of man, he stomps over to the couch, and plops down in it. He grabs Carl's wig, spits in it, and tosses it onto the floor.

"What did I say about putting your gay lady shit onto my couch?" bellows Max as he turns on the TV. "Get me a damn beer!"

Carl lets out a loud sigh as he heads towards the fridge. He grabs a beer, and walks over to the couch. Max snatches the beer out of Carl's hand, and punches him in the gut hard. Carl drops to the floor gasping for air, but Max grabs his neck, and yanks him off the floor, and shoves his nose against Carl's face hard.

"What did I say about back talking to me?" Max yells, spitting all over Carl's cheek.

"It won't happen again," Carl apologizes.

"It better not!" yells Max before slamming Carl into the floor. "Now finish dinner!"

Carl hits the floor hard, his back throbbing in pain. He winces as he slowly stands up, gasping for air as he slowly limps back to the kitchen. Without a word or a glance towards the TV, he finishes making dinner as Max watches a sports channel.

With dinner made, he walks down the dimly lit hall to the master bedroom. He knocks once on the thin wood door, and waits for a response.

"Bring my supper in here, boy, and be quick about it!" yells a voice from behind the door.

Carl heads back to the kitchen, and quickly makes a plate of food for the master bedroom. As he begins heading down the hall, his left foot hits something hard causing him to stumble. He lands on the hard tile floor as the plate of food crashing a few feet away from him.
A large black boot crashes inches from Carl's head. He looks up, and sees John hovering over him. His long blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail as his eyes are focused on the broken plate. John scoops up some of the food, and rubs it in Carl's face.

"Better fix him a new plate, Carl," laughs Jessie. “Master hates when dinner gets cold.”

Carl picks himself up, and wipes his face with a wet kitchen towel. He makes another plate, and carefully walks it down the hall. He knocks once again, and waits.

“Enter,” says Master from behind the door.

Carl opens the door, and slowly walks in. He finds Master sitting in his mahogany chair staring out the window at the approaching thunderstorm. Master's baldhead is covered by a black knit cap, and is wearing a maroon rob. Carl sets the plate on the small table in the corner, and waits patiently.

“Supper is late, boy,” says Master.

“Sorry, Master. The chicken didn't finish in time,” lies Carl. Even though he wants to tell the truth about what happened, it will only get Carl in trouble. Master believes the other two do not nothing wrong, and it's only Carl that's a troublemaker. So, Carl learned to keep his mouth shut, and do as told.

“No excuse. For that, I need you to scrub the tile floors with your toothbrush after you finish the dishes,” snarls Master. “Also, need you to wash all my wigs before you even think about going to bed.”

“Yes, Master,” replies Carl before quietly leaving the room. He closes the door behind him, and begins his nightly tasks.

As the sun begins to rise, Carl finally washes his wig after completing Master's tasks. He hangs it on the clothesline outside of the fire escape, and stares out over the city's skyline as tears forms in his eyes. He dreams the day he can move out of here, and live his life free from Master and his two stepbrothers. Sadly, whatever money he does bring home from his job, it goes right to Master towards the bills. He knows it's slavery, but every time he thinks about leaving, something is holding him back. He has created a mental prison because of Vegas, and until he moves on in his mind, he's stuck here.

He wipes away his tears, and heads inside. He quickly makes breakfast and a pot of coffee. He makes a new plate, makes a cup of coffee, and heads towards Master's door. He knocks once as always, and waits.

“Enter!”

“Breakfast, Master,” says Carl as he walks in, and sets the plate onto the table. He walks over, and hands Master his coffee. Master takes a sip, and waves his hand. Carl quickly leaves the room, and heads towards his. He walks into the closet that is his bedroom, and changes into pajamas. Exhausted, he collapses onto his cot, and passes out within minutes.

Some time later, his door is flung open. Carl jumps out of the cot, and sees Max standing in the doorway.

“Master wants to see you now!” shouts Max.

Carl walks out of the closet, and heads towards Master's door, which is opened. He knocks on the frame, and waits.

“Enter, and close the door, Carl,” says Master without looking back from the window.

Carl closes the door, and sits down at the table. He notices a large purple envelope on it addressed to him.

“Now, care to explain the envelope, Carl?” inquires Master.

“I can't, Master,” replies Carl.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Carl opens the envelope, and see it's an invite to the biggest event of the year for the transgender society tomorrow night: The Glass Butterfly. He stares at the envelope with his frown wrinkled in thought. He's clueless on how he got an invitation considering he has no social life, but someone sent him one. “I can't, Master. I have no explanation at all.”

“Well, forget about going. You got chores that night,” states Master. “Also, burn that envelope. I don't want to see it or hear about it ever again!”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now, leave!” shouts Master.

Carl leaves, and heads back to his closet. He closes the door, and slumps into the cot. He pulls out a lighter, and stares at the invite. He knows Master wants it destroyed, but he hasn't been out since they went to Vegas, and he still was stuck in the hotel room. This is his golden ticket to a night of freedom, and he refuses to destroy it. He pulls out the invite, and folds it up. He tucks it inside one of his old work envelopes, and lights the purple envelope. He feels horrified for disobeying Master, but he won't pass up this chance.

He gets off the cot, and walks over to the vent. He pops it open, and pulls out a backpack. He unzips it, and smiles at the contents. The dress is still sealed, but will need to be unwrinkled with the steam press at work. The wig is also in good shape. All he's missing is heels, but he has a pair stored at work. He has the outfit, but needs to find a way to sneak to the party without Master finding out. He zips up the backpack, puts it on the cot, and closes up the vent.

He grabs his work backpack, and gently slides it over the one holding his outfit for The Glass Butterfly. He looks at the clock, and sees he has to get to work soon. He quickly gathers his work uniform, and gets ready for work. Now dressed as Linda, he flings his backpack over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

After a grueling day at work, he walks into the apartment, and finds Master sitting on the couch, in his maroon robe, drinking some cheap canned beer. On the table is an empty bottle of cheap bourbon.

"Close the door, Carl," says Master.

Carl closes the door, and turns back towards Master. Master makes a motion for Carl to take a seat with his hand. Carl grabs one of the cheap, wooden dining chairs, and sets it in front of Master. He sets his backpack next to the chair, and waits for Master.

"Hand over the backpack," orders Master.

Carl hesitates as he hands Master his backpack. Master snatches it out of Carl's hand, unzips it, and shakes out the backpack. The silk dress falls right on Master's lap as the other contents scattered on the floor. Master picks up the dress as his brow begins to wrinkle, and his face turns red. He grabs the dress, and shouts, "Max! Come here!"

Max enters the room, and walks over to Master. “Yes, Master?” he asks while he gives Carl a dirty look.

“Take this dress, and burn it outside on the grill,” says Master as he hands Max the dress. “I need to have a chat with Carl.”

“Yes, Master,” replies Max as he takes the dress, and heads out the front door.

“Now, follow me, Carl,” says Master as he stands up, and stumbles a little. He catches himself, and heads down the hall. Carl follows behind, head hanging as tears form in his eyes. When they reach the door of Carl's room, Master opens the door and waits for Carl to enter the room. Carl slowly enters, and Master closes the door.

“The invitation now,” orders Master as he pulls out his gold Zippo, the infamous click echoes in the room as Master lights it.

Carl lifts up his cot mattress, and retrieves the envelope. Master grabs it out of Carl's hand, and puts the Zippo to a corner, a smirk on Master's face as it begins to burn.

“This is the last time you disobey me, Carl,” states Master. “For punishment, you lose your cot for a week. Now wait in the hall!” He tosses the burning paper into a small metal trashcan and yells out, “John, remove the cot from Carl's room please.”

Carl exits the room as John enters. John slaps him in the face while carrying his cot into Master's bedroom. Carl stands there, hands shaking as the tears run down his face. He wants to lash out, but he already knows that he's about to be punished for the invitation, and lashing out will only make the punishment last longer. So, he stays quiet as he loses everything once again.

Master walks out and orders, “My room, now!”

Carl inches his way down the hall, and opens the door. He waits for Master to enter before closing it.

An hour later, he enters his room, and collapses on the floor. His shirt is soaked with sweat and blood. He tries to make himself comfortable by wrapping himself in his old, torn blanket, but his broken ribs make any position uncomfortable. He crawls over to the vent, pops it open, and pulls out pill bottle. He quickly takes out a pill, and swallows it. Within an hour, he's dead to the world while dreaming of leaving here forever.

He wakes up the next morning, and leaves before anyone else is awake. He knows that his plan for today is a rebellion against Master, but he is going to that party. He quickly hops on the bus, and heads towards his destination. For the first time as long as he can remember, he is going to do what he wants.

The bus drops him off in front of an old brick building. He quickly makes his way over to the plain, red steel door in the front of the building. He pulls out a key from his pocket, and unlocks the door. He looks around to make sure he wasn't followed before entering.

He enters the building, and turns on the lights. In the middle of the barren, cobweb covered room is an old cedar chest caked in dust. Carl sneezes as he breathes in the stale, dust-filled air that reeks of mold.

He makes his way over to the chest, and uses an old rag to wipe off the dust. His eyes brighten when he sees the gold plate with the name "Rella" engraved into it. He uses another key, and unlocks the trunk. He gently pushes open the massive lid, and smiles.

"One thing I'm glad Master doesn't know about," he says as he pulls out another silk dress, this one sky blue.

"He does know," says a stern voice behind Carl.

Carl almost begins to cry as he knows it's Max behind me.

"Get your ass up, Carl!" shouts Max. "Master is not going to be pleased about this!"

Carl stands up, and hangs his head in defeat as his tears fall to the floor. His last resort to make it to The Glass Butterfly has been discovered by one of his stepbrothers. Max will destroy it, and Carl will be punished by Master later on this evening. He wants to fight back, but as always, he stands there cowering as Max destroy his dreams

Max pulls out a small bottle of lighter fluid, and pours it all over the contest of the chest. He pulls out his Zippo, and begins to light up the silk dress. "You need to learn you will never escape," he sneers as he tosses the burning dress into the chest. The contents quickly catch fire while Carl watches his freedom go up in smoke.

When the fire finally consumes the chest, Max grabs a fire extinguisher, and puts it out before the whole building burns down. He tosses the empty container down, and grabs Carl by his neck. He pushes Carl's face into the ashes, and rubs his face into the smoldering remains of the chest.

"We're going home now," he orders while keeping Carl's face in the ashes. "Master is going to love hearing about this."

Max yanks Carl up, and flings him over his shoulder like Carl is nothing but a sack of potatoes. He carries Carl out the building, and tosses him into the back seat of his car. He gets into the driver seat, and rushes them back home.

As they enter, Max carries him right to Master's door. Max knocks once, and waits.

"Enter!"

Max opens the door, and pushes Carl inside to face his fate.

Four hours later, Carl stumbles into his closet, and lands on the floor. His face is still blacken with ash mixed with blood, and his right eye is swollen shut. His shirt is stained with blood as he lands on the floor with a thud. He crawls forward, wincing in pain to a small bucket. He pulls out a wet rag, and does his best to clean his face.

With the ash and blood cleaned off his face, he pulls himself up, and looks out the window. "All I want is to escape this place," he sighs before slumping back to the floor. "Too bad that fairy godmothers aren't real," he says before making himself a makeshift pillow out of his dirty clothes. He lays his head down, and goes to sleep: the only time he can escape his wretched life.

He is suddenly awakened by the sound of bells, and a cold blast of wind across his face. He also begins to smell a mixture of vanilla and lavender. He looks out the window, and sees a ball of pink light floating over the fire escape. He pulls himself off the floor screaming in agony, and rushes over to his door.

"Don't be alarmed," says the pink light.

Carl slowly turns around, and stares at the light, his eyes wide in shock. "Who said that?" he stammers out as his hands shake in fear.

"I did," says the pink light again. The light slowly dims down, and Carl's mouth opens up. Standing in the room is a tall woman with long blond hair, and eyes bluer then a clear spring sky. She's wearing an all white silk dress, and her hands are covered in satin forearm gloves. In her left hand is a crystal wand with a pink rose at the tip.

"Who are you?" asks Carl as her beauty spellbinds him.

"My name is Crystal, and I'm your fairy drag queen," she says in a masculine voice.

Carl looks at her, and does a double take. Even on his best day, he can't look this feminine. If it weren’t the voice being so deep, he would swear Crystal was born a woman. He is tempted to check under the skirt, but stops because it's bad etiquette in the transgender world. "My fairy drag queen?" he finally asks.

"Yes, and I'm here to help get you to The Glass Butterfly in style," replies Crystal as she waves her wand.

“How?” Carl replies as he slams his hand against the door out of frustration.

Crystal rolls her eyes and replies, “Hello? I appeared out of a pink ball of light, and you're asking how?”

“All my dresses are burnt, and I have no good wigs,” Carl sighs.

Crystal walks over to Carl, and backhands him across his cheek. “Shut up and listen, Honey. I'm going to have you the envy of the ball!”

“Yeah, like magic exists in this world,” retorts Carl as he rubs his cheek.

Crystal taps the wand on top of Carl's head, and his hair turns into a man of thick, straight black hair. Carl grabs it, and tugs on it. He winces as he feels his hand trying to tug his hair out of his own scalp. Crystal taps her wand on Carl's shirt, and he begins to glow. The light becomes so blinding that he can't see anything but white light. He closes his eyes, and moans as he feels his body filled with severe pain.

“Open your eyes,” says Crystal.

Carl opens his eyes, and sees he's standing outside in front of a brand new, white, Cadillac limousine. He looks down, and notices his hands have changed into a more female shape with bright red nails. He almost faints when he stares the silky smooth and shapely legs sticking out a black dress covered in sequins that end in a pair of red, crystal slippers. He walks over, and looks into the passenger mirror. In the reflection, he is gazing at the Linda that's been trapped inside of his body for many years.

“Now, you're ready to go, Linda, and wow them at The Glass Butterfly,” says Crystal beaming. “However, do remember one thing. At the stroke of midnight, you will change back into Carl.”

“I'm beautiful!” Linda shrieks as she jumps for joy.

“Yes, and you better hurry. Your invitation is inside. Now go!” orders Crystal as she opens the rear passenger door.

Linda climbs in with her legs pressed together as Crystal closes the door. The driver starts up, and they head off.

Thirty minutes later, the limo parks in front of the entrance. The driver runs around, and opens her door. Linda takes his hand as he leads her onto the red carpet. Linda looks around, and is amazed as she stares at two, blue, 50' tall lighted butterflies perched on either side of the marble steps that lead into the hotel. Linda straightens her dress, and begins to walk up the red carpet.

As she walks up the marble steps, there are a few gasps from the crowd. Linda blushes as she keeps heading towards the large, oak doors. At each door is a man dressed in a tuxedo collecting the invitations. She hands the doorman her invitation, and he opens the door.

She walks in, and finds herself in a world that she's only read about in fairy tales. The vaulted ceiling soars over the room, gold leaf glittering in the light from the crystal chandeliers. The entire floor is black marble, smooth and shiny like a mirror. The chairs are covered in red velvet, and tables covered in the finest cotton table clothes. She pinches herself to make sure she's not dreaming as she makes her way to the main room.

As the party picks up, she finds herself outside on a small balcony staring down at the passing cars below while slowly sipping on some champagne. Even though this is her night, she still feels afraid and alone. Master was right. This is not a part of her world, but all a fantasy that never should became a part of her reality. She finishes her glass, and begins to head back in.

As she's about to leave, she feels a hand gently grab her arm. She turns around and finds herself staring into the most handsome blue eyes she's ever seen. They look like sapphires tucked into a soft, porcelain skin with light freckles, and topped off with a thick, curly mane of red hair. She almost faints when she sees the tuxedo the stranger is wearing.

“Mind if I ask where such a beautiful woman in a rush to get too?” he asks.

“I was about to head home,” she replies, her face burning as her skin is glowing red.

“Not even one dance?” he asks as he offers her his hand.

She takes his hand and curtsies while replying, “One dance.”

He leads her onto the dance floor, and they begin to slow dance. As she stares into his eyes, she loses track of time as they dance the night away. For the first time in her real life, she's being treated like a princess, and doesn't want this night to end. She finally is experience happiness and love from a complete stranger. She wants to freeze this very moment, and live it for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, Linda hears the chiming of a clock as it strikes midnight.” I have to go,” she says in panic as she pushes away from her dance partner as the clock strikes one more time.

“Why?” he asks with his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I have to go,” she says as she pushes away.

“Can I at least know your name?” he asks as she begins to walk off.

She ignores him as the man tries to stop her, but a dancing couple blocks him. Linda takes the chance, and rushes out of the hall. She is in such a hurry, her right shoe comes off, but she keeps running. She makes it around the corner as her dress begins to slowly turn back into his old t-shirt and jeans. He ducks into an alley, and slumps to the wet asphalt. The one night of pure bliss ran out of time, and he's forced to go back to his living Hell.

He pulls himself off the alley floor, and begins the long walk home. He regrets not learning his dance partner's name, but it will only be a dream. After this, he doubts Master will even let him out to go to work. This was his one night of independence, and all he has to show for it is a memory of a dance. He might as well hang himself instead of facing years of torment and oppression.

A month has gone by, and he's still forced to work because Master needs the money. He is taken t to work by Max, and is picked up by John. The instant he gets home, he has a list of chores waiting for him. By the time he's done, he's exhausted. Master isn't punishing like he normally did, but making Carl work himself to death. Every night, Carl pulls out a noose he made from spare rope he found at the hotel. He cries himself to sleep with the noose in his hand.

One night while getting ready to leave work, Linda steps onto the elevator and drops the dirty sheets she was carrying. On the elevator was her mystery dance partner from The Glass Butterfly. He's in a very fancy business suit carrying a small duffel bag. He looks at her, and smiles.

“Hello,” he says smiling. He looks at her face and asks, “Have we met before?”

“I don't think so, sir,” replies Linda as she picks up the dirty sheets. She looks up, and sees the man staring at her feet.

“This might be an odd request, but can you do me one favor?”

“What is it, sir?”

The man reaches into the duffel bag, and pulls out the ruby heel she lost. “Can you try this one for me?”

“May I ask why?” asks Linda as her heart begins beating faster.

“Because the most amazing person lost it one night, and I've been dying to find her,” he replies as he holds out the crystal shoe.

“If it will please you, sir, I will try it on,” replies Linda as she stands up, and removes her right shoe.

The man bends down, and gently slips it on. He looks up at her, and asks, “Now, what is your name?”

“Linda Rella,” she replies smiling. The man of her dreams has returned.

“Such a lovely name. My name is Peter Harmon,” he replies. “You still owe me a dance.”

“I would love too, but I have to go home after work,” she sighs.

“Why?” inquires Peter.

“I have to take care of my family.”

He hands her a business card, and replies, “Well, call me whenever you get a night off.”

“I will,” she says. “Need the shoe back?”

“No, it's yours, so keep it.”

“Thank you, Peter,” she replies as she slips off the slipper, and puts on her work shoes. As the elevator stops, she quickly rushes off. She heads down to the basement with the dirty sheets. She tosses them into the bins, and heads to her locker. She gently places the shoe and Peter's card into her locker. She slumps onto the bench, and begins to cry. No matter what she does, she will die in Master's apartment.

She gathers her stuff, and heads outside. She goes to the spot where John picks her up. However, there's a white limo inside of it. The rear door opens, and out steps Peter.

“Please, get in, Linda,” he says as he waves his hand towards the open door.

“I must go home,” she replies as she starts walking.

“I did some research. You owe them nothing.”

“Like you know my life!” she bitterly shouts back.

“I do, Carl. Now, please get in.”

She stops and looks back at him. Peter knows her birth name, and her history. She's paranoid at first, but anything can be an improvement over living with Master. She walks back to the limo, and calmly gets in. For the next hour as they drive out of the city, she tells Peter everything, and Peter returns the favor. With the city skyline in the rear-view mirror, she finally begins to feel free as she agrees to return to Peter's hometown.

A year later, Linda finds herself walking in the soft sand of a tropical beach, a far cry from the hellish city and her closet bedroom. The last she heard was Master and her stepbrothers were evicted, and forced to live out in the streets. She should feel sorry, but all she can think about is she is now living with someone who loves every part of her, and treats her as a human being. In the end, happiness came from one red slipper that is now mounted with the matching left one above the bed Peter and her share.

"The Final Cost"

Visions of doom and decay.

Talks of pending nuclear war.

Hopes of peace gone astray.

Anger rotten us to the core.

Fires raging out of control.

Riots have filled every town

No compassion in their souls.

As buildings burn to the ground.

Law and order have been shot.

Anarchy holds the loaded gun.

As chaos spreads its evil plot,

The children’s’ blood begins to run.

There is no longer a civilization.

Returning to our animalistic ways.

We are on a path of damnation.

Slowly counting down our days.

The trigger will be pulled soon.

Launching The Nuclear Holocaust

The countdown to our final doom.

Was all this war worth the final cost?

"One Last Note"

Smoking a cigarette

A bottle of bourbon

Trying hard to forget

What he had done.

Never meant to hurt,

Or to make her leave.

Pushed her to the dirt,

And made her bleed.

Keeps trying to forget,

As he numbs his mind.

Can't escape the regret,

Or leave the past behind.

He misses her each day,

But she will never return.

Nothing he can do or say.

Her heart is forever torn.

He wrote her one last note,

And died beneath the stars.

Ended his life under the oak,

His wrist barred fresh scars.

“The Way of The Dodo”

Blocked by a firewall.

Controlled by a VPN.

Leashed by 4G LTE.

Freedom is a memory.

Every word is recorded.

Every photo is analyzed.

Data sent is not private.

Thoughts are still sacred.

1984 isn't a survival guide.

We should never be afraid.

No fear to express ourselves.

No creativity kills our future.

Ideas overall shape society.

Sparks that start revolutions.

Now, we get feed nonsense

So-called reality television.

Imagination is a dying breed.

Old stories are being rehashed.

Movies are over polished crap.

Mindless dribble for drones

Intent to not provoke thoughts.

Science fiction is now reality.

A brave new world isn’t brave.

It’s a nightmare we are creating.

Humans are slowly devolving.

Turning into biological robots.

Soon, not a single free thought.

Will ever leave our sealed lips.

One idea spread over the world.

Accepted by billions of people.

I want to see a new Renaissance.

And be a free thinker, not a slave.

If not, I rather die being a radical

Then assimilate into this society.

To be the one who lights the match

Igniting the wild fires of change.

Not trying to start an anarchy,

But the flow of new knowledge.

We need to build our Utopia now

Before art goes the way of the Dodo.

"Mostly Harmless?"

          For some reason, my mind was stuck thinking about The Turing Test, Cleverbot, and the future portrayed in sci-fi last night before bed. I kept going back to this one perplexing question: How do we truly define a human being to another intelligent species? Is there a way we can sum ourselves into one paragraph that truly defines us?
           I could go with Douglas Adam's thought, and try to summarize us with a very generic summary, but it wouldn't capture what we are as a species. I don't think there are enough words in any language to truly capture us on a whole. I could try, but I probably would die before I finished trying to capture us in words.
          On one level, we're easy to describe. The description of humans genetically and biologically is the easiest. On the bare levels, we are animals that can communicate vocally through language. On the microscopic level, we're all the same. The DNA in all of us is, I'm guessing here, 99% the same. The 1% that's different isn’t going to change a summary of our genetic codes considering that one percent is about outward appearance.
          Where this gets complicated is when you add the metaphysical traits. Our culture, religion, morals, political views, etc is where this becomes challenging. This is where our uniqueness sets in as well. A difference in one of these can give a person a total different perspective on life. You can show two people an abstract image, and can either have two different outputs, or might get lucky and have very similar.
          I feel if we ever have a confirmed first contact with a peaceful alien race, my ideal greeting party would be The UN Building. A representative of every nation would give them a much clearer picture of our diversity instead of a select few from one nation. They wouldn't get a clear picture if, let's say, only representatives of one nation opened communications.
          Then again, my biggest fear is they will be either overwhelmed or offended by one thing that we will be wiped out. Either way, we're all humans, and despite our differences, we will never be able to describe ourselves fully. If we ever truly learn we're not alone, I feel we should stop finding ways to kill each other, and maybe work towards expanding our knowledge of our own planet, and the universe out there while we still can.

"Inside"

It's all inside your head.

The sadness isn't real.

It's all inside your head.

The pain that you feel.

Let go of the bitterness.

Mend the broken heart.

Embrace the tenderness,

And a brand new start.

Leave behind the night.

Forgot about the past.

Step out into the light.

Life is passing by fast.

It was inside your head.

You created your prison.

It was inside your head.

Your free soul has arisen.

Enjoy a new opportunity.

Break free of your bonds,

And grasp at total unity.

Where you truly belong.

Love is still out there.

The wounds will fade.

As you find people care,

And hearts will not stray.

Red Eyes - Prologue

(WARNING: There are some very disturbing scenes, which include mutilation. Read at your own risk.)

Prologue – The Smoking Pistol
 

A single shot ring out down the hallway, waking a young man from his restless dreams. He first thought is that he’s still asleep, but he begins to sweat as the smell of gunpowder lingers inside his bedroom, like someone lit a firecracker in his room. He kicks off the sheet off of him as he feels something heavy in his right hand. He looks down, and sees he's holding a discharged pistol, the smoke still drifting out of the barrel.

            He drops the gun on the floor, and sits back down on the bed. His hands are shaking badly as his nerves take over. His mind is a raging storm as he tries to comprehend how this pistol ended up in his hand after hearing a single gun shot down the hall. He has never owned a gun in his life, and doesn’t know anyone that owns one. His body is now drenched as he begins to wonder who fired a pistol in his room, and placed it inside his hand.

            With one last deep breath, he finds the courage to get off the bed, and investigate. With his hands now steady, he stands up, and tosses on a new pair of shorts he found by his bed. He slowly creeps over to the door, and leans against the frame. He gently opens it, making sure not to make a noise. He lets out a sigh of relief as a clap of thunder from the storm outside covers the metallic creak of the knob being turned.

            He peeks down the hall, to see someone charging down the dimly light hallway. The man scrambles back as the door is ripped right off the hinges. The man’s eyes widen in shock at what he sees before him. Standing right outside the door frame is what appears to be a man about his age with red eyes.

            "It begins," whispers "Red Eyes".

            The man sees that Red Eyes holding the same he dropped earlier. He turns around to get it, but he's already holding it. He turns back to Red Eyes, but Red Eyes is gone. He tries to toss the gun back down, but he can't move his hand.

            "You're mine," he hears Red Eyes whisper out of the darkness.

            The man finally drops the gun. He runs out of the room in a hysterical state, and down the hallway. As his foot hits the last step, he slips in a thick fluid. He lands with a thud into a bigger pool of the same liquid. A flash of lighting illuminates the now barren living room long enough to see he's laying in a pool of blood, and none of the furniture is in the room.

            He pulls himself off the floor, and turns on a light with the switch at the bottom of the stairway. He stands there in disbelief at the sight before him. Hanging from his living room ceiling are four bodies, heavily mutilated. They are missing their heads, and their skin has been peeled, and hung up like they are curtains. In their chest, there are roses stuck inside bullet wounds over their hearts. He almost gags as he notices their organs are also missing for the entire torso is an empty, bloody cavity.

            He walks over by the fireplace as he notices a roaring fire has been lit inside the fireplace, which a large metal pan hangs over the hot coals. He almost pukes as he stares at the heads resting on the thick, oak mantel with garlic cloves sticking out of their eye sockets. He uses the poker to lift the lid of the pan, and loses the contents of his stomach for the pot is filled with the tongues and entrails of the four bodies hanging from the ceiling.

            As he wipes the bile from his lips with his t-shirt sleeve, he stands up, notices the pistol is back in his possession. As he stares at the pistol back in his possession, the front door is smashed in. Two heavily armed SWAT members run in with M-4's pointing right at the man.

"Drop the fucking weapon now! Get down on your knees now!" shouts one of the SWAT officers.

            The man tosses the pistol to the side, and kneels down in front of the fireplace. He looks back at the fire, and sees glowing red eyes amongst the coals. "It wasn't me! I swear it! It was the man with the red eyes!" he shouts.

            "Put your hands over your head!" barks the officer. "There's only one person in here, you monster!"

            The man does as he is told as the red eyes drift out of the fire staring his eyes as the smoke begins to circle around him as a body materializes in front of him. "He's standing right in front of me! The man with the red eyes," the man pleads as he begins to cry.

            "Shut the fuck up, you sick bastard!" the other officer yells as he slaps the cuffs on.

            "The fun will begin soon," Red Eyes whispers as he places his hand on the man's heart.

            The man's entire body shivers before he begins to feel extremely dizzy. The last thing the man remembers before the world goes back is a warm fluid being splattered all over his body, and the sound of the M-4's going off as the officers scream in a panic.