It was two years ago that I started this job, the day I first saw you as well as your birthday. That's a lot to squeeze into twenty-four hours. I haven't talked you in six months, but letting the day just pass by unnoticed didn't seem right to me for some reason. So, I went out, got you a card and left it on your desk first thing in the morning. It read...
------,
I thought for a long time,
about what to put here.
I wrote many drafts.
So many thoughts and feelings,
I wished to convey.
But none of them,
seemed appropriate,
written by the hand,
of the stranger that I've become.
So I think instead,
I'll just keep it simple,
and tell you that I truly wish you the best.
Have a wonderful birthday,
but above all else,
no matter what,
please...
don't ever change.
Still not quite sure what to put here,
Davlin
You wrote me an email thanking me and told me it was very sweet. The conversation didn't really go far from there until a couple of hours later. You asked me how I liked my new place and we tip-toed around topics we wanted to delve into, but were too scared of the answers we might find.
I grabbed up enough courage to ask you if you were dating anyone and you told me that you weren't, because it wasn't high on your list of priorities at the moment. You never asked whether or not I was seeing anyone and that could be taken either way. Then, for some reason, I asked you out for lunch. You accepted and we made tentative plans for the upcoming Saturday.
You took the rest of the week off, so I didn't see or hear from you, not that I was really expecting to. Saturday came and I was running errands, watching the time until our rendezvous. I got the text message asking if we were still on and we decided on a place we used to frequent back when...well, you know.
I arrived first, as is usually the case, my mind still reeling because you didn't cancel. I look up in the rear view mirror just in time to see your car pass by, making a knot twist inside my stomach. Suddenly, I wished I had cancelled.
We unceremoniously meet at the door and are seated at our table in less than a minute. We place our order before I let myself look at you. Your hair was worn casually and you had on a white wife beater. I couldn't believe you were actually sitting across from me. It's so weird how things play out.
We make a little small talk, a lot of small, awkward silences and you don't look at me the whole time. Your eyes dart above my head, at the table, the screaming baby across the restaurant, anywhere but into mine. Again, this can be taken either way.
The food arrives and gives a little more reason for the silence. The whole time I'm not sure what I think or feel about everything. I had pictured a hundred thousand different ways a situation like this with you would go down, no sexual pun intended. This just wasn't one of them.
The waitress brings us the check and after it's paid we just kind of sit there. As always I'm not sure what you're thinking. I don't know if you want to spend more time together, or if you just want this little adventure over and done with. I hate how you always make me second guess myself and everything around me.
I open my mouth as all the words I rehearsed escape me. Instead of easing my way into it, I simply say, “I'm sorry things got weird between us.”
“It happens.” You shrug nonchalantly.
“Yeah, but it shouldn't. I've changed a lot, now.”
“I can tell.”
“The irony of it all is that this is the guy I should have been the whole time. It took losing you to become that.
“Usually how it works.”
Silence.
“I was angry with you for a long time.”
“I could tell, but I never figured out why.”
“Because it was easier.”
“Easier than what.”
“Admitting the truth. It was easier than admitting I missed you, never got over you. I just didn't want to be hurt anymore and anger filled that gap quite nicely. I want you to know that I don't harbor any of those negative feelings anymore.”
“Good, then let's just move forward.”
“Move forward?”
“As acquaintances, friends is kind of a strong word.”
“Jesus, that's a little harsh.”
“Don't you think it'd be weird if we tried to be? Don't you think there'd be problems?”
I nod, “Yeah...probably.”
I tell you I don't want to keep you and I walk you to your car. We don't say a word as we hug and go our separate ways. The whole thing only lasted roughly thirty five minutes and it ended just like we did; bittersweet.
I think about all of it on the drive home. Everything from two years ago to now. You weren't the monster I made you out to be. All I ever saw was my side, I'm sure I was just as nasty from yours. This was the first time in a year I left you with my head held high and that's gotta count for something. I hope that if you aren't happy now, that you be. A part me is also sorry that I couldn't be the one that helped make it happen for you, but I know I'm not. For the first time I'm OK with that. It's time to move forward.
The big news
I'm attending a writer's conference next weekend and that comes with one amazing benefit...I'm allowed ten minutes with an agent to pitch my book. I know it's a long shot, but I can't shake this surge of excitement. It's also made me realize that I really need to get my name out there. This is where I'm asking you for help.
If there's anything on this blog that really spoke to you, made you feel something, I'm asking for you to print a couple of copies of it out. Somewhere on there, put this blogs address http://www.davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com/. Now, fold it up and on the outside of it, write a note to a stranger. Decorate it, make it your own. Then, just leave it in a public place. There's not a lot to it, really. I'm starting it this weekend and I want to see if it will spread. It would honestly mean the world if you would help me out with this. I can feel something big is going to happen, it just needs a little push. Guerrilla marketing...keep an eye out.
If there's anything on this blog that really spoke to you, made you feel something, I'm asking for you to print a couple of copies of it out. Somewhere on there, put this blogs address http://www.davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com/. Now, fold it up and on the outside of it, write a note to a stranger. Decorate it, make it your own. Then, just leave it in a public place. There's not a lot to it, really. I'm starting it this weekend and I want to see if it will spread. It would honestly mean the world if you would help me out with this. I can feel something big is going to happen, it just needs a little push. Guerrilla marketing...keep an eye out.
A moment of your time?
Ask yourself this question, who am I? If you've already answered it, then you haven't thought about it long enough and your answer is incorrect. Now, let's delve a little bit deeper.
Are you the person that people see while you're sitting in a classroom? How about family reunions, where you pass through an ocean of people, making small talk with strangers that only pass as relatives because of a few similar strands of DNA? How about the version of yourself that you see while you daydream, the fantasies that you live when life just doesn't fit the way that you want it to? Are you more yourself when you are getting lit with some friends at five A.M. on a Saturday, simply because society tells us that it beats the alternative of sitting alone at home on the weekends? Speaking of being alone, do you feel and act differently then as opposed to how you are around others?
The point I'm trying to make with all this...well, there isn't a point. Not really. I just want you to think about it. So many of us are content with the image we have of ourselves. We don't want to grow, to question things about ourselves, because we might be afraid of the answers that we may find. There are so many expectations, set on us by ourselves and others that we believe we must live up to. What makes us successful? Is it the amount of money in our bank accounts, or just the satisfaction we feel when we lay our heads down at night. That is, if we're able to even find enough peace to dream.
I don't think any of us can know everything about ourselves. We will never really have an idea about who we are and that's a scary concept to grasp. However, it doesn't have to be. Asking all of these questions about ourselves is one of the most beneficial things that we can do. Break away from the emotions, all the bullshit really, and get down to the core of it all. This is where we grow and make strides towards the people we'd like to be.
We're all going to have bad days, that's inevitable, but if you find that the majority of them are that way then something is wrong. It's just one of the cycles that needs to be broken. Comfort, while divine, is also detrimental. You don't have to be what you think and others expect. A little introspection never hurt anyone. Just something to keep in mind.
Are you the person that people see while you're sitting in a classroom? How about family reunions, where you pass through an ocean of people, making small talk with strangers that only pass as relatives because of a few similar strands of DNA? How about the version of yourself that you see while you daydream, the fantasies that you live when life just doesn't fit the way that you want it to? Are you more yourself when you are getting lit with some friends at five A.M. on a Saturday, simply because society tells us that it beats the alternative of sitting alone at home on the weekends? Speaking of being alone, do you feel and act differently then as opposed to how you are around others?
The point I'm trying to make with all this...well, there isn't a point. Not really. I just want you to think about it. So many of us are content with the image we have of ourselves. We don't want to grow, to question things about ourselves, because we might be afraid of the answers that we may find. There are so many expectations, set on us by ourselves and others that we believe we must live up to. What makes us successful? Is it the amount of money in our bank accounts, or just the satisfaction we feel when we lay our heads down at night. That is, if we're able to even find enough peace to dream.
I don't think any of us can know everything about ourselves. We will never really have an idea about who we are and that's a scary concept to grasp. However, it doesn't have to be. Asking all of these questions about ourselves is one of the most beneficial things that we can do. Break away from the emotions, all the bullshit really, and get down to the core of it all. This is where we grow and make strides towards the people we'd like to be.
We're all going to have bad days, that's inevitable, but if you find that the majority of them are that way then something is wrong. It's just one of the cycles that needs to be broken. Comfort, while divine, is also detrimental. You don't have to be what you think and others expect. A little introspection never hurt anyone. Just something to keep in mind.
For the best...
"What exactly is it that you want out of life?" If you couldn't hear the pleading in her voice, you could definitely see it in her eyes. She desperately needs this from me right now and she's fighting back whatever tears she may have left.
I pause for a long time, considering her question, before telling her that I just don't have an answer to it.
"What do you mean by that? It shouldn't be all that complicated. Don't you have any kind of dreams you want to follow? Do you want to get married? How about kids, do you want them? Do you want any of that with...do you even see a future with me in it?"
This is where it all gets complicated I tell her. She doesn't know how it feels.
"I don't know how what feels?"
I can't want something from life when I'm not even sure that I'm alive to begin with.
She just stares at me.
It's like this, I tell her, sometimes it's like I'm living in the past, present and future all at once. I can't look forward, because I'm stuck watching what's come and gone. The now is overshadowed by the later that I dream of having. As a result of this...I miss out on everything. Instead of feeling anything about the events that are occurring to me, I just feel like I'm on the outside. A voyeur. Just saying it doesn't make any sense.
"No...it doesn't." This is where I want to hold her. Tell her that I'm OK, that we'll be OK. I want her to know that I'm more in love with her than ever and that a future without her is just not one worth having. But I don't. I just look at the ground a lot, intensifying her insecurities. This all has to be done. I just tell her I’m sorry.
“You’re always sorry. That’s all you ever say. You apologize but you don’t change anything. I can’t keep going through this. I have to know that it will get better. I need to know that I’m not wasting my time.”
I don’t answer her. I just stare at my feet. I can’t look at her. Not now, not when it’s so close.
“Davlin, please look at me.” I do and she meets my eyes, staring through them and seeing my intentions. “Please…” she implores, “don’t do this.” She stands up and goes to the door. “If I leave now, I’m not coming back. You do know that don’t you?”
I nod and take one last look at her. This could be the last time I see her face and I wish it wasn’t like this. I don’t want my last glimpse to be of her so heartbroken. She’ll be torn up about this for awhile. Over time, though, she’ll get better and find the person that she deserves and deserves her as well. She will be happy, but that can’t happen as long as I’m still in the picture. I know me. I know how I am. She wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. She’s right, I don’t do anything to change. That’s why things always end like this and I pray for this to be the wake up call that I’ve needed for so long. As the oncoming months pass, she’ll grow happier and I’ll only get worse until I hit bottom one more time. But if that’s the price for her to smile again, I’ll pay it happily.
“Well?” she asks, no longer able to contain the tears. I stare back at my feet and hear the door slam.
“I don’t want to be worthless. I want to be different. I want to be happy without feeling this compulsive need to sabotage it all. I don’t want to be hurt anymore, nor do I want to hurt anyone else. I do want to get married, I do want kids, all of those things we talked about and, yes, I want all of that with you.” I’m finally able to admit, ten seconds too late.
I pause for a long time, considering her question, before telling her that I just don't have an answer to it.
"What do you mean by that? It shouldn't be all that complicated. Don't you have any kind of dreams you want to follow? Do you want to get married? How about kids, do you want them? Do you want any of that with...do you even see a future with me in it?"
This is where it all gets complicated I tell her. She doesn't know how it feels.
"I don't know how what feels?"
I can't want something from life when I'm not even sure that I'm alive to begin with.
She just stares at me.
It's like this, I tell her, sometimes it's like I'm living in the past, present and future all at once. I can't look forward, because I'm stuck watching what's come and gone. The now is overshadowed by the later that I dream of having. As a result of this...I miss out on everything. Instead of feeling anything about the events that are occurring to me, I just feel like I'm on the outside. A voyeur. Just saying it doesn't make any sense.
"No...it doesn't." This is where I want to hold her. Tell her that I'm OK, that we'll be OK. I want her to know that I'm more in love with her than ever and that a future without her is just not one worth having. But I don't. I just look at the ground a lot, intensifying her insecurities. This all has to be done. I just tell her I’m sorry.
“You’re always sorry. That’s all you ever say. You apologize but you don’t change anything. I can’t keep going through this. I have to know that it will get better. I need to know that I’m not wasting my time.”
I don’t answer her. I just stare at my feet. I can’t look at her. Not now, not when it’s so close.
“Davlin, please look at me.” I do and she meets my eyes, staring through them and seeing my intentions. “Please…” she implores, “don’t do this.” She stands up and goes to the door. “If I leave now, I’m not coming back. You do know that don’t you?”
I nod and take one last look at her. This could be the last time I see her face and I wish it wasn’t like this. I don’t want my last glimpse to be of her so heartbroken. She’ll be torn up about this for awhile. Over time, though, she’ll get better and find the person that she deserves and deserves her as well. She will be happy, but that can’t happen as long as I’m still in the picture. I know me. I know how I am. She wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. She’s right, I don’t do anything to change. That’s why things always end like this and I pray for this to be the wake up call that I’ve needed for so long. As the oncoming months pass, she’ll grow happier and I’ll only get worse until I hit bottom one more time. But if that’s the price for her to smile again, I’ll pay it happily.
“Well?” she asks, no longer able to contain the tears. I stare back at my feet and hear the door slam.
“I don’t want to be worthless. I want to be different. I want to be happy without feeling this compulsive need to sabotage it all. I don’t want to be hurt anymore, nor do I want to hurt anyone else. I do want to get married, I do want kids, all of those things we talked about and, yes, I want all of that with you.” I’m finally able to admit, ten seconds too late.
Blah blah blah
Been a rough week. I haven't slept much and I find some of my old thoughts and habits gradually coming back. Whenever I'm like this, I don't want to be bothered. I don't want to be around, or talk to anyone. The sad thing is, this usually happens when a lot of people have started to care and rely on me. This is when my stock drops, so start selling your shares as fast as you can.
I find myself on the brink of tears at work and to the point of violent rage outside of it. There was a time when I talked to people about this kind of stuff, but the reactions I recieved have made me shy away from doing so. They don't understand how it works. If I'm ok on one day, that doesn't mean that it'll stay that way forever. Relapses are inevitable, because this is a cycle that will turn in my head until the day I die. So, when I get low again, they give me that look that says "here we go again".
It just scares me. I'm terrified of things going back to the way they were last year. I barely survived it. That's another thing that people won't let me live down. A friend of mine will point out how unbearable it was to be in my presence. Says he has a right to joke about it, because he put up with my behaviour. Fuck that.
I've tried all week to write something down. I could only get about 2 1/2 pages of a short story. In these moods, blogs like this are all I can get out, but I'm sick of doing them. I don't wanna bitch or whine about my problems and it feel like that's how they come off. When I'm like this I have absolutely no confidence in anything that I do, especially writing. I'm not even looking for any affirmations, believe me, they wouldn't do any good.
One thing that has changed, however, is I'm no longer embracing these emotions. They're being kept back, but I'm not sure if that's because of me, the meds, or some combination of the two. That's what makes me uneasy about being on prescriptions; I'm not entirely sure what's real. Was that smile genuine, or chemically enduced?
But being off of them is also unsettling. Though it'd be nice to have an extra $150 every month, is that the price that must be paid in order to keep me from reverting back to my old self and succeeding where I've failed so many times before? It just sucks when every answer to these questions could result in a life or death situation due to a moment of weakness on my part.
"It's hard to be the better man when you forget you're trying.
It's hard to be the better man when you're still lying."
Brand New
I find myself on the brink of tears at work and to the point of violent rage outside of it. There was a time when I talked to people about this kind of stuff, but the reactions I recieved have made me shy away from doing so. They don't understand how it works. If I'm ok on one day, that doesn't mean that it'll stay that way forever. Relapses are inevitable, because this is a cycle that will turn in my head until the day I die. So, when I get low again, they give me that look that says "here we go again".
It just scares me. I'm terrified of things going back to the way they were last year. I barely survived it. That's another thing that people won't let me live down. A friend of mine will point out how unbearable it was to be in my presence. Says he has a right to joke about it, because he put up with my behaviour. Fuck that.
I've tried all week to write something down. I could only get about 2 1/2 pages of a short story. In these moods, blogs like this are all I can get out, but I'm sick of doing them. I don't wanna bitch or whine about my problems and it feel like that's how they come off. When I'm like this I have absolutely no confidence in anything that I do, especially writing. I'm not even looking for any affirmations, believe me, they wouldn't do any good.
One thing that has changed, however, is I'm no longer embracing these emotions. They're being kept back, but I'm not sure if that's because of me, the meds, or some combination of the two. That's what makes me uneasy about being on prescriptions; I'm not entirely sure what's real. Was that smile genuine, or chemically enduced?
But being off of them is also unsettling. Though it'd be nice to have an extra $150 every month, is that the price that must be paid in order to keep me from reverting back to my old self and succeeding where I've failed so many times before? It just sucks when every answer to these questions could result in a life or death situation due to a moment of weakness on my part.
"It's hard to be the better man when you forget you're trying.
It's hard to be the better man when you're still lying."
Brand New
Mafioso's Requiem
Just one more job. That's all I have to do before they let my brother go and we can put this whole thing behind us. There are three outcomes that can happen; either I'll be gunned down in the streets, my boss will do me in after I've completed my mission, or I'll actually get the happy ending. Either way, it all ends tonight.
The taste of Natalie and Grey Goose still linger on my lips and I wish I could keep them there forever. I switch the radio to an old jazz station as I take the on-ramp to I-90. The traffic is all but non-existent due to the early morning hour. This is when New Haven always looks the best to me; under a curtain of blackness and abandoned by all the people that make city living so unbearable to begin with. 20 minutes from my destination and I start to get anxious.
Over the last six months I've done some horrible things and not only enjoyed doing them, but profited off them as well. Hijacking a school bus to hold a rival drug lord's kid hostage bought my fancy loft uptown. And that's just one of the things I'm willing to admit to. I'm not even going to tell you what I had to do to pay for the car I'm driving right now.
Little beads of sweat start to fall down my forehead and sting when they land in my eyes. My nerves are completely shot. The soft music is doing nothing to calm me down, so I roll down the window to allow the warm summer breeze to wash away all these ill feelings. 10 minutes away now.
My breathing grows shallow as I take my exit. OK, I can do this. I HAVE done this. All I have to do is kill one man, that's all. It's no big deal.
Christ, listen to me...this used to sicken me. What have I become? With each squeeze of the trigger I've lost more and more of my humanity until I'm left cold, soulless. Will I even be able to go back to a regular life after this?
I pull up across the street of a nightclub that's owned by my target, put the vehicle in park and shut off the engine. Nothing left now but to wait. I could feel the cold steel of the 9.millimeter under my coat and it gave me some relief. After 45 minutes pass he comes out of the club. He's got two bodyguards with him. Alright...let's do this.
I step out of my car and reach into my over coat. I aim for the guard on the left and his brains rain out behind him before they even know I'm coming. My target's eyes go wide and he runs for his car that's been parked out on the street. I hear a slight whistle as a bullet misses my ear by centimeters. A second plugs me in the right shoulder and a third clips my left knee. I go down.
I'm laying in a growing pool of warm blood. The guard is laughing as he walks in my direction. I pick my up my gun and scream in pain as I raise it towards him. I aim for a gut shot but I'm a little off. It hits him in the groin, instead. He crashes to the ground and starts crying in the street. This makes me smile. I'll let him live.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a bottle of pills and take three. I automatically feel the effects as I get to my feet. My target is still standing outside of his car. One of his men has the keys. Due to lack of options, he starts to run. I hop in my car and take pursuit. He doesn't get too far, about a block or so, before I'm right behind him. At the last second he dives for the sidewalk and I only clip his legs. I can hear the sound of them shattering over the engine.
I stop the car and I hear the sirens as I step out. I walk over to him, he's already given up trying to crawl away, and kick him onto his back because I've grown fond of being the last thing people see. He starts to beg for his life and I put one between his eyes, cutting off his spiel.
A gasp brings my attention upward. Two hookers are staring at me with their mouths wide open. I feed them each a bullet to make sure this little scene stays our secret forever.
The job finished, I climb back in my car just in time to see 2 cruisers in the rear view mirror. I crank the engine, put it in drive and speed off. In my haste I forget to buckle my seat belt, which will only add to the ever growing list of offenses. My car jerks to the left as one of the cops tries to side swipe me from the driver side. I grab my gun, stick it out the window and unload until it runs dry before replacing it in my coat. In the rear view I can see their windshield explode and the cruiser crashes into a huge display window of a thrift shop.
The one on my right becomes more aggressive and starts to plug holes into my car's frame. I jerk the wheel in his direction and his cruiser gets pushed inches away from the curb. He's looking at me and yelling and if he was paying more attention, he'd have seen the pickup that was parked on the street in front of him. One second he's right beside me and a sound of impact precedes his disappearance.
I crank my neck back and watch in disbelief . I see the two vehicles have become one and I start to laugh. "Oh, my god! Ha ha! I'm gonna make it! I'm gonna..."
.....
I wake up in the street and it hurts to move. I cough into my hand and pull it back to reveal bloody mucous. Four shattered ribs, a collapsed lung, fractured skull and god knows what else. I take the bottle from my pocket and take the last four. I stand up, brush the glass out of my hair and try to piece together what happened.
Apparently, while looking behind me I didn't see the telephone pole. The impact threw me about 25 feet from the windshield. It would have been more had I not smacked that mailbox. I can actually see the indention of my skull where it collided with its side. Cool.
A bright light shines over me and stabs daggers into my eyes. I look up and stare at the helicopter hovering above me. I can't hear the rotors. I've gone deaf. I pull the gun from my coat and run into a nearby alley.
I don't realize it's a dead end until three cop cars have already blocked off my only way out. I eject the empty clip and look up with blurry vision. Ten officers have their weapons drawn and they're shouting words that I'll never get to hear.
I slam my last clip into the gun, look up at them and smile. One way or another...it all ends tonight.
The taste of Natalie and Grey Goose still linger on my lips and I wish I could keep them there forever. I switch the radio to an old jazz station as I take the on-ramp to I-90. The traffic is all but non-existent due to the early morning hour. This is when New Haven always looks the best to me; under a curtain of blackness and abandoned by all the people that make city living so unbearable to begin with. 20 minutes from my destination and I start to get anxious.
Over the last six months I've done some horrible things and not only enjoyed doing them, but profited off them as well. Hijacking a school bus to hold a rival drug lord's kid hostage bought my fancy loft uptown. And that's just one of the things I'm willing to admit to. I'm not even going to tell you what I had to do to pay for the car I'm driving right now.
Little beads of sweat start to fall down my forehead and sting when they land in my eyes. My nerves are completely shot. The soft music is doing nothing to calm me down, so I roll down the window to allow the warm summer breeze to wash away all these ill feelings. 10 minutes away now.
My breathing grows shallow as I take my exit. OK, I can do this. I HAVE done this. All I have to do is kill one man, that's all. It's no big deal.
Christ, listen to me...this used to sicken me. What have I become? With each squeeze of the trigger I've lost more and more of my humanity until I'm left cold, soulless. Will I even be able to go back to a regular life after this?
I pull up across the street of a nightclub that's owned by my target, put the vehicle in park and shut off the engine. Nothing left now but to wait. I could feel the cold steel of the 9.millimeter under my coat and it gave me some relief. After 45 minutes pass he comes out of the club. He's got two bodyguards with him. Alright...let's do this.
I step out of my car and reach into my over coat. I aim for the guard on the left and his brains rain out behind him before they even know I'm coming. My target's eyes go wide and he runs for his car that's been parked out on the street. I hear a slight whistle as a bullet misses my ear by centimeters. A second plugs me in the right shoulder and a third clips my left knee. I go down.
I'm laying in a growing pool of warm blood. The guard is laughing as he walks in my direction. I pick my up my gun and scream in pain as I raise it towards him. I aim for a gut shot but I'm a little off. It hits him in the groin, instead. He crashes to the ground and starts crying in the street. This makes me smile. I'll let him live.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a bottle of pills and take three. I automatically feel the effects as I get to my feet. My target is still standing outside of his car. One of his men has the keys. Due to lack of options, he starts to run. I hop in my car and take pursuit. He doesn't get too far, about a block or so, before I'm right behind him. At the last second he dives for the sidewalk and I only clip his legs. I can hear the sound of them shattering over the engine.
I stop the car and I hear the sirens as I step out. I walk over to him, he's already given up trying to crawl away, and kick him onto his back because I've grown fond of being the last thing people see. He starts to beg for his life and I put one between his eyes, cutting off his spiel.
A gasp brings my attention upward. Two hookers are staring at me with their mouths wide open. I feed them each a bullet to make sure this little scene stays our secret forever.
The job finished, I climb back in my car just in time to see 2 cruisers in the rear view mirror. I crank the engine, put it in drive and speed off. In my haste I forget to buckle my seat belt, which will only add to the ever growing list of offenses. My car jerks to the left as one of the cops tries to side swipe me from the driver side. I grab my gun, stick it out the window and unload until it runs dry before replacing it in my coat. In the rear view I can see their windshield explode and the cruiser crashes into a huge display window of a thrift shop.
The one on my right becomes more aggressive and starts to plug holes into my car's frame. I jerk the wheel in his direction and his cruiser gets pushed inches away from the curb. He's looking at me and yelling and if he was paying more attention, he'd have seen the pickup that was parked on the street in front of him. One second he's right beside me and a sound of impact precedes his disappearance.
I crank my neck back and watch in disbelief . I see the two vehicles have become one and I start to laugh. "Oh, my god! Ha ha! I'm gonna make it! I'm gonna..."
.....
I wake up in the street and it hurts to move. I cough into my hand and pull it back to reveal bloody mucous. Four shattered ribs, a collapsed lung, fractured skull and god knows what else. I take the bottle from my pocket and take the last four. I stand up, brush the glass out of my hair and try to piece together what happened.
Apparently, while looking behind me I didn't see the telephone pole. The impact threw me about 25 feet from the windshield. It would have been more had I not smacked that mailbox. I can actually see the indention of my skull where it collided with its side. Cool.
A bright light shines over me and stabs daggers into my eyes. I look up and stare at the helicopter hovering above me. I can't hear the rotors. I've gone deaf. I pull the gun from my coat and run into a nearby alley.
I don't realize it's a dead end until three cop cars have already blocked off my only way out. I eject the empty clip and look up with blurry vision. Ten officers have their weapons drawn and they're shouting words that I'll never get to hear.
I slam my last clip into the gun, look up at them and smile. One way or another...it all ends tonight.
A Transient Affair (A work of fiction)
I wake up disoriented in a dark room that I don't recognize. I try to assess the surroundings as my eyes adjust to the blackness. I hear quiet breathing coming from a girl lying on the bed next to me. Her blond hair, a stark contrast to the gloom, accentuates her features. God, she's pretty. I wish I could remember her name. I know she told me, but I couldn't hear half of our conversation over the raucous music in the club. I realize that I don't know any of the information that should be established long before you become intimate with another person. Sudenly, all that required knowledge is reduced to nothing more than mere afterthoughts.
I find my mind wondering about her. What's she really like? Is she smart, funny, honest? Does she do this kind of thing all the time? I know that this is my first one night stand, but is it a part of her routine? What's she going to think about all this in the morning? Will she feel cheap and used, or rush me out without even giving me the courtesy of an awkward kiss goodbye? I want to hold her, but I'm not even sure about the rules on that. Christ, when did everything get so complicated?
I glance over to the nightstand that's on my side of the bed and look at the plaque that's resting on the top. It's made out of clay, with two little handprints under the word "Mommy". This girl is somebody's mother. I feel even worse about this whole thing.
I sit up, throw on my jeans and walk out onto her patio hoping that the crisp September air will help to clear my head. It doesn't. The skyline shines brightly like a beacon over all it's denizens that are sleeping next to loved ones, strangers, or alone altogether. In my head I try to justify the events that lead me to the now, which only makes me feel worse about it all. Trying to blame it on the alchohol would just cheapen it even more, rob it of the passion that would make it seem somehow more acceptable. I don't know...
Is this what we've all been reduced to? Seeking solace in the arms of stranges just so we can throw them aside in the morning because we're all afraid to get attached? I don't understand how the people that do this every weekend live with themselves. I look back and watch her sleep through the window. I haven't got a clue what the morning will bring to us. Will we see each other again? Will this turn into something meaningful, or will we just try to force it so that we can feel better about it all and save face? I open the sliding glass door and enter the room, knowing that all these questions will be answered in time.
I find my mind wondering about her. What's she really like? Is she smart, funny, honest? Does she do this kind of thing all the time? I know that this is my first one night stand, but is it a part of her routine? What's she going to think about all this in the morning? Will she feel cheap and used, or rush me out without even giving me the courtesy of an awkward kiss goodbye? I want to hold her, but I'm not even sure about the rules on that. Christ, when did everything get so complicated?
I glance over to the nightstand that's on my side of the bed and look at the plaque that's resting on the top. It's made out of clay, with two little handprints under the word "Mommy". This girl is somebody's mother. I feel even worse about this whole thing.
I sit up, throw on my jeans and walk out onto her patio hoping that the crisp September air will help to clear my head. It doesn't. The skyline shines brightly like a beacon over all it's denizens that are sleeping next to loved ones, strangers, or alone altogether. In my head I try to justify the events that lead me to the now, which only makes me feel worse about it all. Trying to blame it on the alchohol would just cheapen it even more, rob it of the passion that would make it seem somehow more acceptable. I don't know...
Is this what we've all been reduced to? Seeking solace in the arms of stranges just so we can throw them aside in the morning because we're all afraid to get attached? I don't understand how the people that do this every weekend live with themselves. I look back and watch her sleep through the window. I haven't got a clue what the morning will bring to us. Will we see each other again? Will this turn into something meaningful, or will we just try to force it so that we can feel better about it all and save face? I open the sliding glass door and enter the room, knowing that all these questions will be answered in time.
Chapter 6: Inquiring Minds (Jerry)
They took me to their place, a run down motel deep in the Bottoms. When I asked Uriel why they didn't pick a better neighborhood, he told me that they were more needed in places like this. By all reasonable accounts of logic I should be freaking out right now; jumping at the door and making my escape. But I'm not. I've been missing for almost sixteen hours now, my wife and everyone else on the force are probably going crazy wondering where the hell I am. That should bother me. I find myself more at peace than I've ever been before. Being around them does that to you. This must be what the faithful feel every Sunday in church.
We got to their rooms just before the sun rose. I had a shower and borrowed some of Michael's clothes and crashed until late in the evening. I stretched before going out on the patio to watch the sun set over the Columbus skyline. Gabriel joined me a few minutes later, carrying two beers.
“Hey, want one?” He asks, offering the one in his right hand.
“I didn't think you were allowed to drink.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, you're a creature of God aren't you?”
“Yeah, but so are you. And you guys are into all sorts of heinous shit.”
“Never thought of it like that.”
“The thing that you need to keep in mind, is that most of the rules the bible and modern churches follow were written by men, and we know how that usually turns out. Listen, you want to know what the real golden rules are? The best ways to get home?”
“It would make things a lot easier.”
“With the exception of taking his name in vain, Father doesn't really care about what language you use. They're just words. He also understands what it's like being in your bodies, he designed them after all, so he knows that you have urges and all that. Premarital sex doesn't bother him so much as long as there is love involved and you're not whoring yourself out for ham sandwiches. But the most important things to keep in mind are to love Him with all your heart and try to help more people than you fuck over.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.”
“Huh...So what about you guys then? You don't seem a whole lot different from us.”
“Well, I'm not. As far as personality is concerned. We were kind of like His practice dummies, his trial runs before He stopped with humans.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him as I take a swig.
“Uriel was the first being Father created, and was done so without a lot of major emotions,”
“I've noticed that.”
“He can feel love for our Father and, to a very small extent, every other creature. He was made this way so that he wouldn't get distracted from his devotion to Him. He was made just to serve. As more and more of us were created, Father became increasingly lax and we evolved as a result. I'm the second youngest. That's why I am the way that I am.”
“And who is the youngest.” This question makes him close his eyes and his face contorts with pain.
“The Morning Star.”
I change the subject. “So then what are you doing on Earth? Don't you belong in Heaven?”
“Technically, angels don't belong anywhere. We can go where we want. So can demons. There are hundreds of them on Earth getting into all sorts of shenanigans. That's where we come in.”
“So, you're like some divine police officer.”
He chuckles. “I like to think of us as a combination of Men in Black and Constantine, personally. We'll spend a few weeks in a town, patrolling every night, move on and start it all over again.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“What's this, June?” He starts counting on his fingers. “1,700 years, 6 months, 14 weeks, and nine days. Wow...I need a fuckin vacation.”
“So, are you going to take me with you tonight when you guys go out?”
“No, it's too dangerous for you. Uriel is going to stay here tonight. But, listen...” He reaches behind him and pulls a dagger out of his boot. It's about 8 inches in length and there are funny stains on the silver blade. Everything else about it is unremarkable. “There is going to be a time when you're going to have to fight. It's inevitable now. This will give you a chance.”
“Thanks.” I just sit and stare at it, unable to shake a sudden ominous feeling.
“Ok, I have a question for you now.”
“Shoot.”
“Um...” He starts to blush, like he's too embarrassed to ask it. “What's sex like?”
We got to their rooms just before the sun rose. I had a shower and borrowed some of Michael's clothes and crashed until late in the evening. I stretched before going out on the patio to watch the sun set over the Columbus skyline. Gabriel joined me a few minutes later, carrying two beers.
“Hey, want one?” He asks, offering the one in his right hand.
“I didn't think you were allowed to drink.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, you're a creature of God aren't you?”
“Yeah, but so are you. And you guys are into all sorts of heinous shit.”
“Never thought of it like that.”
“The thing that you need to keep in mind, is that most of the rules the bible and modern churches follow were written by men, and we know how that usually turns out. Listen, you want to know what the real golden rules are? The best ways to get home?”
“It would make things a lot easier.”
“With the exception of taking his name in vain, Father doesn't really care about what language you use. They're just words. He also understands what it's like being in your bodies, he designed them after all, so he knows that you have urges and all that. Premarital sex doesn't bother him so much as long as there is love involved and you're not whoring yourself out for ham sandwiches. But the most important things to keep in mind are to love Him with all your heart and try to help more people than you fuck over.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.”
“Huh...So what about you guys then? You don't seem a whole lot different from us.”
“Well, I'm not. As far as personality is concerned. We were kind of like His practice dummies, his trial runs before He stopped with humans.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him as I take a swig.
“Uriel was the first being Father created, and was done so without a lot of major emotions,”
“I've noticed that.”
“He can feel love for our Father and, to a very small extent, every other creature. He was made this way so that he wouldn't get distracted from his devotion to Him. He was made just to serve. As more and more of us were created, Father became increasingly lax and we evolved as a result. I'm the second youngest. That's why I am the way that I am.”
“And who is the youngest.” This question makes him close his eyes and his face contorts with pain.
“The Morning Star.”
I change the subject. “So then what are you doing on Earth? Don't you belong in Heaven?”
“Technically, angels don't belong anywhere. We can go where we want. So can demons. There are hundreds of them on Earth getting into all sorts of shenanigans. That's where we come in.”
“So, you're like some divine police officer.”
He chuckles. “I like to think of us as a combination of Men in Black and Constantine, personally. We'll spend a few weeks in a town, patrolling every night, move on and start it all over again.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“What's this, June?” He starts counting on his fingers. “1,700 years, 6 months, 14 weeks, and nine days. Wow...I need a fuckin vacation.”
“So, are you going to take me with you tonight when you guys go out?”
“No, it's too dangerous for you. Uriel is going to stay here tonight. But, listen...” He reaches behind him and pulls a dagger out of his boot. It's about 8 inches in length and there are funny stains on the silver blade. Everything else about it is unremarkable. “There is going to be a time when you're going to have to fight. It's inevitable now. This will give you a chance.”
“Thanks.” I just sit and stare at it, unable to shake a sudden ominous feeling.
“Ok, I have a question for you now.”
“Shoot.”
“Um...” He starts to blush, like he's too embarrassed to ask it. “What's sex like?”
Harbinger Ch. 5: "Winging" it
I feel dizzy, like I'm on the verge of throwing up. I'm sitting in the backseat of a car that I don't recognize with no idea how I got here. Ok, focus. You were almost off when you got a call, so you and Dalton...it's all coming back and I start to panic. There are voices coming from outside the car.
"Whoa whoa whoa. What do you mean we're taking him with us? Have you lost your mind?" One of them says, definitely pissed.
"Gabriel, calm down. I admit this situation has gotten out of hand, but we don't have a choice." The second one is much calmer. "He knows what we are." Everything goes quiet.
Suddenly, a kid with shaggy blonde hair is looking through the window at me. It's a few seconds before he breaks the awkward silence.
"Well, couldn't you have at least hosed him off first? I mean, look at him. He's covered in blood! And...and is that vomit? There's vomit all over my fucking interior! That's going to take forever to get out."
"We need to go, now." A third voice chimes in. "We're kinda exposed out here."
"I'm not getting in there with him. He's gotta smell terrible."
Ten minutes later, the four of us are driving in silence. My three companions look to be in their mid-twenties. The blonde one is driving, gripping the steering wheel tightly and just shaking his head. The one that I had met back in the room is sitting up front. The wings that I thought I had saw are now absent. I pray that they were just a hallucination. The one sitting next to me is hanging his head out of the window, smiling serenely. All of their features are perfect; not a blemish, birthmark, or scar on any of them. Just... flawless. They radiate a light that can't be seen, but you can feel that it's there. It's a hard thing to describe.
"I guess you're wondering who we are." The kid riding shotgun says to me. "My name is Uriel," he points to the driver, "this is Gabriel..."
"Charmed." Gabriel spits out through gritted teeth.
"and sitting beside you is Michael."
Michael doesn't respond, he's clearly in his own world.
“Yeah, hi.” I say dismissively. “I”m officer Jerry Delange. Do you have any idea what that means? You just kidnapped a cop. I should be arresting you right now.”
“Ha!” Gabriel mocks. “You can try!”
“I'm sorry, but it had to be done.” Uriel's tone never changes. There's never any inflection...it's all just a matter of fact with him. “Now, what do you remember about what happened inside that house?”
“My partner and I were on a routine call. When we got there we were too late to help the woman that lived there. This...thing killed her and then it got my partner.”
“His name was Belith. He's a very high ranking demon. You're actually very lucky to be alive right now.” Michael adds from outside the window.
Uriel swallows hard. “Do you remember what you asked me back in the room?” “I asked you if you were angel. I thought I saw wings. I was hysterical.”
“You weren't hysterical. Wait, you said that you “had” seen them. Does that mean you don't anymore?”
“No, should I?”
“Well, no. None of your kind should. That's the point.”
“What do you mean, “my kind”? You're?”
“Yes, Jerry. And you knowing that complicates things quite a bit.”
“Look, I don't care, ok? I just want to go home.” My voice was becoming panicked.
“We can't let you go now.”
“I want to see my wife.” I tried my best to sound forceful and intimidating.
“I told you earlier that you weren't dead, but that's only half true. The life that you once led is over. You're a loose end as far as Hell is concerned. Ours too, quite frankly. You've seen too much and they're going to be looking for you. With us, you're safe. If you were to go back home now, they'd follow you and slaughter anyone you care about right in front of your eyes. Then they would torture and finally kill you.”
“So...what, I just ride around with you until they eventually get to me?”
“Or until we can think of something better.” Michael laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "We're kinda making this up as we go along."
“Think of it this way, stinky,” Gabriel adds, “you just entered Heaven’s witness protection program.”
"Whoa whoa whoa. What do you mean we're taking him with us? Have you lost your mind?" One of them says, definitely pissed.
"Gabriel, calm down. I admit this situation has gotten out of hand, but we don't have a choice." The second one is much calmer. "He knows what we are." Everything goes quiet.
Suddenly, a kid with shaggy blonde hair is looking through the window at me. It's a few seconds before he breaks the awkward silence.
"Well, couldn't you have at least hosed him off first? I mean, look at him. He's covered in blood! And...and is that vomit? There's vomit all over my fucking interior! That's going to take forever to get out."
"We need to go, now." A third voice chimes in. "We're kinda exposed out here."
"I'm not getting in there with him. He's gotta smell terrible."
Ten minutes later, the four of us are driving in silence. My three companions look to be in their mid-twenties. The blonde one is driving, gripping the steering wheel tightly and just shaking his head. The one that I had met back in the room is sitting up front. The wings that I thought I had saw are now absent. I pray that they were just a hallucination. The one sitting next to me is hanging his head out of the window, smiling serenely. All of their features are perfect; not a blemish, birthmark, or scar on any of them. Just... flawless. They radiate a light that can't be seen, but you can feel that it's there. It's a hard thing to describe.
"I guess you're wondering who we are." The kid riding shotgun says to me. "My name is Uriel," he points to the driver, "this is Gabriel..."
"Charmed." Gabriel spits out through gritted teeth.
"and sitting beside you is Michael."
Michael doesn't respond, he's clearly in his own world.
“Yeah, hi.” I say dismissively. “I”m officer Jerry Delange. Do you have any idea what that means? You just kidnapped a cop. I should be arresting you right now.”
“Ha!” Gabriel mocks. “You can try!”
“I'm sorry, but it had to be done.” Uriel's tone never changes. There's never any inflection...it's all just a matter of fact with him. “Now, what do you remember about what happened inside that house?”
“My partner and I were on a routine call. When we got there we were too late to help the woman that lived there. This...thing killed her and then it got my partner.”
“His name was Belith. He's a very high ranking demon. You're actually very lucky to be alive right now.” Michael adds from outside the window.
Uriel swallows hard. “Do you remember what you asked me back in the room?” “I asked you if you were angel. I thought I saw wings. I was hysterical.”
“You weren't hysterical. Wait, you said that you “had” seen them. Does that mean you don't anymore?”
“No, should I?”
“Well, no. None of your kind should. That's the point.”
“What do you mean, “my kind”? You're?”
“Yes, Jerry. And you knowing that complicates things quite a bit.”
“Look, I don't care, ok? I just want to go home.” My voice was becoming panicked.
“We can't let you go now.”
“I want to see my wife.” I tried my best to sound forceful and intimidating.
“I told you earlier that you weren't dead, but that's only half true. The life that you once led is over. You're a loose end as far as Hell is concerned. Ours too, quite frankly. You've seen too much and they're going to be looking for you. With us, you're safe. If you were to go back home now, they'd follow you and slaughter anyone you care about right in front of your eyes. Then they would torture and finally kill you.”
“So...what, I just ride around with you until they eventually get to me?”
“Or until we can think of something better.” Michael laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "We're kinda making this up as we go along."
“Think of it this way, stinky,” Gabriel adds, “you just entered Heaven’s witness protection program.”
Restless
Ugh...I'm out of ambien and can't sleep. It's kind of sad when you need a pill to make you do the things that should come naturally. Plus, there's too much on my mind.
I had the second meeting with my artist today and I've gotta say, the shit we're churning out is amazing. It's a weird feeling, to have something stew in your head for so long, then describe it to someone and then for them to put it on paper visually. The more into the project we get, the more and more epic it becomes. In all honesty it might take close to a decade to tell the whole story. (in comic book form) I promise you this, though, it will be worth it.
Every other facet of my life seems to be slowing down. Last year was such a mess, I'm still adjusting to how to deal with the calm. I used to thrive in chaos, it was where I was most comfortable, because it was all I had ever known. But now here I am, things aren't perfect, but they are the best they've ever been for me. It's kind of nice having something to work towards and a future worth looking forward to.
I had the second meeting with my artist today and I've gotta say, the shit we're churning out is amazing. It's a weird feeling, to have something stew in your head for so long, then describe it to someone and then for them to put it on paper visually. The more into the project we get, the more and more epic it becomes. In all honesty it might take close to a decade to tell the whole story. (in comic book form) I promise you this, though, it will be worth it.
Every other facet of my life seems to be slowing down. Last year was such a mess, I'm still adjusting to how to deal with the calm. I used to thrive in chaos, it was where I was most comfortable, because it was all I had ever known. But now here I am, things aren't perfect, but they are the best they've ever been for me. It's kind of nice having something to work towards and a future worth looking forward to.
Chapter 4: The Sadist's Epistle (Halfway across the country)
It's 10 o'clock at night. He should have been home three hours ago, but his boss wouldn't let him out until he finished the Gillespie account. This meant that he missed his bus and now has to wait another hour for the next one. Last time he checked, public transportation was supposed to be a convenience, but in practice it just proves to be a giant pain in the ass.
His ride finally arrives and he pays the fare before sitting down. The bus is surprisingly full for this time of night. A couple of teenagers in the back are playing music from a boom box at an annoyingly high volume. The person two seats behind him is coughing her lungs up and it made him wonder what he's going to catch on the ride home. He looks at all the other passengers that occupy the bus with him. Their collected scents hang thick in the air and it makes him nauseous. He hates all of them.
Twenty minutes later, he is finally dropped off at his stop and he can enjoy the five minute walk to his house, alone. The night air cools him and it helps to cleanse his nostrils of the vermin's scent. Before he knows it, he's already at his front door. He looks back over his shoulder as he works the key in the lock and lets himself inside.
He sits his bag and keys down on the table by the door and then goes into the kitchen to grab a beer. He opens it, chugs it and grabs another before going to sit in the living room. He turns on the TV and begins to get comfortable. The long day had made him even more tired than he initially thought, because he falls asleep to the sounds of the local news in less than five minutes.………..
The sun shining through the living room window stings his eyes. He smacks his lips and tries his best to alleviate the cotton mouth he had acquired during his slumber. He stands up and winces, because his back aches from sleeping upright in the chair for the entire night. It's at this point that he notices that the TV set is turned off.
'That's odd,' He thinks to himself. 'I could've sworn I had left it on." He shrugs it off before going to the kitchen to cook himself some breakfast.
He opens the fridge and gets out a carton of eggs and orange juice. He shuts the door and glances at the kitchen table. His spine runs cold. Now sitting on it's polished, wooden surface is the head of a young woman. Resting in her mouth is an envelope. Someone had broken in and put it there while he was sleeping.
He slowly walks toward it, his hands shaking. When he gets about five feet away he breathes a sigh of relief. The head's fake. Whoever made it did a fantastic job, though. The woman actually looks just like them. He reaches into its mouth and pulls out the envelope. The letter inside reads:Mr. Cade,
We know who you are. Better than that, we know what you are and we know where you hide your bodies. We have a proposition for you.
One week from tonight, hundreds of those like you from around the world will congregate in a certain city for one evening. This will be where we hold our game. The object is simple; see who can get the most kills in a ten hour period. Do you think you've got what it takes to be the best? Then come and prove it. Not only do you get the title, but you'll also receive 100 million dollars in cash and a one way plane ticket to the destination of your choosing. Within the next twenty four hours, you will receive all the information that you need. We'll be in touch
Ps. If you don't participate, we are going to the police with all the evidence we have against you. Just something to keep in mind.
He read it three times before putting it down. He knew he should be furious, but this was just too intriguing. A whole night for serial killers to go wild? He smiled just thinking about the possibilities. He then looked at the severed head on the table. They even modeled it after the type of women he usually hunted for. Definitely a nice touch.
His ride finally arrives and he pays the fare before sitting down. The bus is surprisingly full for this time of night. A couple of teenagers in the back are playing music from a boom box at an annoyingly high volume. The person two seats behind him is coughing her lungs up and it made him wonder what he's going to catch on the ride home. He looks at all the other passengers that occupy the bus with him. Their collected scents hang thick in the air and it makes him nauseous. He hates all of them.
Twenty minutes later, he is finally dropped off at his stop and he can enjoy the five minute walk to his house, alone. The night air cools him and it helps to cleanse his nostrils of the vermin's scent. Before he knows it, he's already at his front door. He looks back over his shoulder as he works the key in the lock and lets himself inside.
He sits his bag and keys down on the table by the door and then goes into the kitchen to grab a beer. He opens it, chugs it and grabs another before going to sit in the living room. He turns on the TV and begins to get comfortable. The long day had made him even more tired than he initially thought, because he falls asleep to the sounds of the local news in less than five minutes.………..
The sun shining through the living room window stings his eyes. He smacks his lips and tries his best to alleviate the cotton mouth he had acquired during his slumber. He stands up and winces, because his back aches from sleeping upright in the chair for the entire night. It's at this point that he notices that the TV set is turned off.
'That's odd,' He thinks to himself. 'I could've sworn I had left it on." He shrugs it off before going to the kitchen to cook himself some breakfast.
He opens the fridge and gets out a carton of eggs and orange juice. He shuts the door and glances at the kitchen table. His spine runs cold. Now sitting on it's polished, wooden surface is the head of a young woman. Resting in her mouth is an envelope. Someone had broken in and put it there while he was sleeping.
He slowly walks toward it, his hands shaking. When he gets about five feet away he breathes a sigh of relief. The head's fake. Whoever made it did a fantastic job, though. The woman actually looks just like them. He reaches into its mouth and pulls out the envelope. The letter inside reads:Mr. Cade,
We know who you are. Better than that, we know what you are and we know where you hide your bodies. We have a proposition for you.
One week from tonight, hundreds of those like you from around the world will congregate in a certain city for one evening. This will be where we hold our game. The object is simple; see who can get the most kills in a ten hour period. Do you think you've got what it takes to be the best? Then come and prove it. Not only do you get the title, but you'll also receive 100 million dollars in cash and a one way plane ticket to the destination of your choosing. Within the next twenty four hours, you will receive all the information that you need. We'll be in touch
Ps. If you don't participate, we are going to the police with all the evidence we have against you. Just something to keep in mind.
He read it three times before putting it down. He knew he should be furious, but this was just too intriguing. A whole night for serial killers to go wild? He smiled just thinking about the possibilities. He then looked at the severed head on the table. They even modeled it after the type of women he usually hunted for. Definitely a nice touch.
Chapter 3: Commination (Uriel)
Everything in the room is covered in blood. There are three bodies: one civilian and two cops. They didn't even have a chance. The woman was with child, but Belith had torn the baby from her womb. One officer is lying on his back, his throat gone. The other is curled in the fetal position. Wait a second...there's a whimper that's barely audible. He's still alive and, from the sound of it, bordering on hysteria. I rush over to his side to assess the damage.
"Officer, can you hear me?" He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
"I need to know if you're ok." His eyes dart all over the room before they finally meet mine. His mouth gapes and his eyes now go wide.
"You're...you're an angel, aren't you?" He asks.
This just got interesting.
"What are you talking about?" I'm tying to do my best to hide the shock.
"You have wings. I can see them. They shine." His face contorts with sadness. "Does this mean I'm dead? Am I in heaven?"
"No, you're still alive. Just take it easy. You're safe, now."
He nods before he passes out again. This hasn't happened in over a thousand years and doesn't bode well with me. It's supposed to be the other way around, they're not supposed to see through us. This really isn't good, now we've gotta take him with us.
.......................
"I forgot how fast this guy was." Gabriel says to himself.
Belith is about fifty yards in front of him, but he's closing the gap more and more with each passing second. Michael is nowhere to be found. He hates to try and attack his opponent alone, but at the same time he can't let him get away. They've come too far to let him get away now.
Gabriel flaps his wings harder and harder as Belith leaps from trees to houses. He can here the demon's laughter and taunts, which only adds to his determination. 40 feet. 30. 20. 10. Almost there.
Gabe brings his sword over his head to lay the first strike. Without warning, Belith turns around in mid air and grabs him by the face. With his free hand he grabs the angel's right wing and snaps the bone, sending them both to the street below. Gabriel screams in pain as his opponent rolls them over and uses him to break their fall.
Still clutching his face, Belith slams his head over and over into the concrete. The cement starts to crack from the impacts and Gabriel comes dangerously close to passing out.
"Don't fade out on me yet, boy. I want you to stay awake while I bust your Goddamn head open!" Belith screams.
Gabe winces. Those words hurt more than the physical injuries. His skull cracks loudly and the demon's enthusiasm increases. His sinuses are starting to fill with blood.
It happened so fast he could barely register the movement. All he knew is that the demon was no longer on top of him. He looks to his left to see him lying on the ground with Michael walking towards him.
"Took you long enough!" He yells at his partner.
"You're the one that always runs into battle half-cocked. Now, am I gonna have to do this by myself? Get up and fight!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. My brain's just leaking out of my skull, but I'm fine, thanks for asking." Gabe says as he gets up, retrieves his sword and goes to stand next to Michael.
Belith is laughing as he stands up to face them. "Gabriel and Michael...been a long time." He tilts his head until his neck cracks. "How's the pops? Still sitting in his ivory tower with that self righteous stick up his ass?"
"Don't." Is all Michael can spit out.
"What? Strike a nerve?" The demon asks with a smile. He then claps his hands together. "Well, as fun as sitting here fighting you two sounds, I've should get going. There are big plans that I really must attend to." And then he's just gone.
"Huh...what do you think he met by that?" Gabriel asks his friend.
"Who the hell knows. Come on. We better go back." Michael says right before flying back in the direction they just came from.
"Yeah, I just hope Uriel is having a better night than we are."
"Officer, can you hear me?" He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
"I need to know if you're ok." His eyes dart all over the room before they finally meet mine. His mouth gapes and his eyes now go wide.
"You're...you're an angel, aren't you?" He asks.
This just got interesting.
"What are you talking about?" I'm tying to do my best to hide the shock.
"You have wings. I can see them. They shine." His face contorts with sadness. "Does this mean I'm dead? Am I in heaven?"
"No, you're still alive. Just take it easy. You're safe, now."
He nods before he passes out again. This hasn't happened in over a thousand years and doesn't bode well with me. It's supposed to be the other way around, they're not supposed to see through us. This really isn't good, now we've gotta take him with us.
.......................
"I forgot how fast this guy was." Gabriel says to himself.
Belith is about fifty yards in front of him, but he's closing the gap more and more with each passing second. Michael is nowhere to be found. He hates to try and attack his opponent alone, but at the same time he can't let him get away. They've come too far to let him get away now.
Gabriel flaps his wings harder and harder as Belith leaps from trees to houses. He can here the demon's laughter and taunts, which only adds to his determination. 40 feet. 30. 20. 10. Almost there.
Gabe brings his sword over his head to lay the first strike. Without warning, Belith turns around in mid air and grabs him by the face. With his free hand he grabs the angel's right wing and snaps the bone, sending them both to the street below. Gabriel screams in pain as his opponent rolls them over and uses him to break their fall.
Still clutching his face, Belith slams his head over and over into the concrete. The cement starts to crack from the impacts and Gabriel comes dangerously close to passing out.
"Don't fade out on me yet, boy. I want you to stay awake while I bust your Goddamn head open!" Belith screams.
Gabe winces. Those words hurt more than the physical injuries. His skull cracks loudly and the demon's enthusiasm increases. His sinuses are starting to fill with blood.
It happened so fast he could barely register the movement. All he knew is that the demon was no longer on top of him. He looks to his left to see him lying on the ground with Michael walking towards him.
"Took you long enough!" He yells at his partner.
"You're the one that always runs into battle half-cocked. Now, am I gonna have to do this by myself? Get up and fight!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. My brain's just leaking out of my skull, but I'm fine, thanks for asking." Gabe says as he gets up, retrieves his sword and goes to stand next to Michael.
Belith is laughing as he stands up to face them. "Gabriel and Michael...been a long time." He tilts his head until his neck cracks. "How's the pops? Still sitting in his ivory tower with that self righteous stick up his ass?"
"Don't." Is all Michael can spit out.
"What? Strike a nerve?" The demon asks with a smile. He then claps his hands together. "Well, as fun as sitting here fighting you two sounds, I've should get going. There are big plans that I really must attend to." And then he's just gone.
"Huh...what do you think he met by that?" Gabriel asks his friend.
"Who the hell knows. Come on. We better go back." Michael says right before flying back in the direction they just came from.
"Yeah, I just hope Uriel is having a better night than we are."
Harbinger Ch 2: Smells like...trouble. (Uriel)
The trail ran cold three days ago. The traveling makes me weary and the lack of activity makes me itch. You'd be amazed at how quickly the hunt gets old. Tonight is just like last night, which is just like the week, month, years before it. I can't remember the last time I saw home and being away makes me ache. Once this job is done we'll just move on to the next. Nothing ever changes.
Michael is in the backseat hanging his head out of the window. He always says that he feels more at peace with the wind in his face. His quiet, gentle demeanor is a stark contrast to his hulking features. He's the biggest out of the three of us and is often the voice of reason. Just don't piss him off.
Gabriel is driving, paying more attention to flipping between radio stations than the actual road itself. We barely hear more than five seconds of any song before he cycles onto the next. It's giving me a headache. Finally, he comes to a stop on “Heart Shaped Box” by Nirvana.
“Oh, hell yeah!” He exclaims as he sits back in his seat.
“Can't we listen to something else?” Michael complains behind us. This is gonna get ugly.
“What did you just say?” Gabriel takes his music way too seriously.
“Change it, man. I hate this band.” I watch the exchange go back and forth like a tennis match.
“How dare you speak ill of Nirvana! Do you have any idea how much of an impact these guys have had? They're this generation's Beatles.”
“Oh, please. The Beatles had talent, stood the test of time and you can actually understand what they're saying. Nirvana was just another band lifted from obscurity by controversy.”
“Cobain was a lyrical genius.”
“No, Kurt was a martyr that all the little pissed off kids out there could pass off as their own voice. Now his image is nothing more than a T-shirt that's used as rebellion through conformity.”
“Fuck, that. He was a...”
“Watch yourself, Gabe. Isn't there a rule against holding false idols?” I ask him.
“Sorry, Uriel. You just have to keep in mind...” This is where I just stop listening.
He's close. I can sense him. So can the others, because they're not talking anymore. Gabe takes a left on Fulton, a small residential street. As soon as we do, my nose fills with the scent of blood. He's here and we're already to late.
We drive by a two story house just as window on the top floor explodes, sending glass and debris into the yard below. A silver mass flies out of it and disappears into the night. It's Berith. This is worse than I first thought.
Gabe slams on the breaks, grabs his sword from the backseat and climbs out of the car.
“Time to go to work.” Michael says before joining Gabe outside. I grab my sword and follow.
“You two go after him.” I order them. “I'm going to check the house for survivors.”
Gabe unsheathes his sword and spreads his brown wings. “For Kurt!” He screams as he flies off in pursuit.
“Make sure you look after him. You know how he can get.”
Michael nods and follows our partner into the darkness. They're going after a demon of the first hierarchy. As I watch them go I pray that I'll get to see them again.
Michael is in the backseat hanging his head out of the window. He always says that he feels more at peace with the wind in his face. His quiet, gentle demeanor is a stark contrast to his hulking features. He's the biggest out of the three of us and is often the voice of reason. Just don't piss him off.
Gabriel is driving, paying more attention to flipping between radio stations than the actual road itself. We barely hear more than five seconds of any song before he cycles onto the next. It's giving me a headache. Finally, he comes to a stop on “Heart Shaped Box” by Nirvana.
“Oh, hell yeah!” He exclaims as he sits back in his seat.
“Can't we listen to something else?” Michael complains behind us. This is gonna get ugly.
“What did you just say?” Gabriel takes his music way too seriously.
“Change it, man. I hate this band.” I watch the exchange go back and forth like a tennis match.
“How dare you speak ill of Nirvana! Do you have any idea how much of an impact these guys have had? They're this generation's Beatles.”
“Oh, please. The Beatles had talent, stood the test of time and you can actually understand what they're saying. Nirvana was just another band lifted from obscurity by controversy.”
“Cobain was a lyrical genius.”
“No, Kurt was a martyr that all the little pissed off kids out there could pass off as their own voice. Now his image is nothing more than a T-shirt that's used as rebellion through conformity.”
“Fuck, that. He was a...”
“Watch yourself, Gabe. Isn't there a rule against holding false idols?” I ask him.
“Sorry, Uriel. You just have to keep in mind...” This is where I just stop listening.
He's close. I can sense him. So can the others, because they're not talking anymore. Gabe takes a left on Fulton, a small residential street. As soon as we do, my nose fills with the scent of blood. He's here and we're already to late.
We drive by a two story house just as window on the top floor explodes, sending glass and debris into the yard below. A silver mass flies out of it and disappears into the night. It's Berith. This is worse than I first thought.
Gabe slams on the breaks, grabs his sword from the backseat and climbs out of the car.
“Time to go to work.” Michael says before joining Gabe outside. I grab my sword and follow.
“You two go after him.” I order them. “I'm going to check the house for survivors.”
Gabe unsheathes his sword and spreads his brown wings. “For Kurt!” He screams as he flies off in pursuit.
“Make sure you look after him. You know how he can get.”
Michael nods and follows our partner into the darkness. They're going after a demon of the first hierarchy. As I watch them go I pray that I'll get to see them again.
Harbinger Ch. 1: Anything but Routine (Jerry)
Have you ever seen an angel? I’m not referring to the false idols from movie screens and music videos we’ve grown so fond of putting on pedestals. No, I'm talking about the sent from heaven, full wingspan type. You know, the genuine article. I'll never forget the first time I did. I was curled up into a ball on the floor of the dead woman's room soaked in blood and vomit. The blood was hers, the vomit mine. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, the type you wouldn’t look twice at on the street. Well, if he didn't have wings, anyway. The only other thing that really caught my attention was his face. He looked hardened, but at the same time vulnerable with a touch of innocence that should have been lost long since childhood. Oh, and he had this stare. It penetrated you to your core, as if he could see directly into your soul. It chilled me.
It's funny how things work out sometimes. Well, maybe funny's not the right word, let's go with odd. Sorry, you'll have to forgive my inability to focus. I've lost a lot of blood and I'm not sure how much longer I've got. In my last moments I keep finding my mind drifting back to that night. If another car answered that call, I wouldn't be here now and I'd still remain blissfully ignorant of the horrors just over the horizon. And to think, I was almost home...
........................
“...and she actually expects me to let her stay with us! I mean, can you imagine a whole week with her mother? I swear, I was actually hoping I'd get shot tonight so that I wouldn't have to deal with her.”
My partner's been bitching about his mother in law for the last three hours now. I don't think I've said more than three words the whole time. Luckily, our shift's almost over and we're less than halfway back to the station.
This job has been taking its toll on me and I've started getting burnt out. It's reached the point that I can't wait to take this badge off. But, 45 minutes from now, I'll be comfortable in my bed next to my wife and watching bad reality TV. That thought always makes even the worst days seem OK. I'm already feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
“Car 67, car 67. Pick up.” It was Alex, our dispatcher and my soon to be least favorite person on the planet.
“This is Dalton, go ahead.” My partner answers.
“We've just got a call for a possible domestic disturbance. A neighbor said she heard weird sounds coming from the house next door. It's close to your area, can you check it out?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure thing.” Apparently, my partner isn't in nearly as big a hurry to get home as I am.
She gives us the address and we arrive at the house in less than two minutes. We find ourselves parked in front of a modest two story home that sits on a quiet suburban street. The only light in the entire place is coming from a television set in one of the rooms on the top floor.
“Let's just get this over with.” I mutter as I climb out of the cruiser.
Dalton makes his way to the front door and I decide to check out the rest. The door to back gate is lying off its hinges and I begin to get a very bad feeling. I follow the stone path that leads to the backyard. It's a typical setup; it’s got the grill, doghouse and some lawn furniture. I take one more step forward and almost slip on something slick in the grass. I pull out my flashlight, turn it on and aim the beam towards my feet.
“Oh, shit.” That's a lot of blood.
I follow its trail with my flashlight until I find the source, a medium size dog. I can't tell which breed, because in order to do that I'd need to see the head. It's stomach was also ripped to shreds, the contents leaking out everywhere. The assailant, like the head, is nowhere to be found.
I aim the light back at the house and discover that the sliding glass door is shattered. Whoever did this was already inside. I unclip my holster and get my weapon at the ready.
“No one's answering the front door. Ready to...” Dalton starts to say as he enters the backyard.
His face grows white as he puts all the pieces together for himself.
I put a finger up to my mouth, signaling for him to stay quiet and he pulls his weapon out of its holster. Silently, we make our way to the back door with me taking point. We step through the broken glass and I see the dog's head lying on the floor six feet in front of me. There's movement in one of the rooms above us. Heavy footsteps. Then, a muffled cry. We have to move, now.
Abandoning all sense of reason I fly through the kitchen and find the stairs. My partner doesn't even reach the foot of them when I clear the top. The second door on my left has a faint light drifting underneath it, making it easier to see the growing stain on the carpet.
“What the fuck are you doing, tearing off like that? Jesus, Jerry, that's how you get yourself killed.” My partner scolds me in a whisper. Then his eyes find the stain I've been staring at.
I take the left side of the door, he takes the right. Dalton bangs on the door and yells to whoever's inside. “This is the police. We're coming in. If you have any weapons or hostages, it'd be really smart if you'd relinquish them now.”
Something inside the room is laughing and I've never heard anything like it. It's guttural...and wet. My partner and I look at each other and he nods. He moves in front of the door and kicks it. Once. Twice. Three times gives us entry and he steps inside. I follow quickly behind him and stop dead. I look around and my mind splinters.
The TV is showing only static. There's blood on the ceiling. The mattress. Walls. Everything. I didn't know the human body held that much. Resting on the bed is a woman and she's long since passed. Her face is covered in lacerations, her blouse ripped off and her stomach is hollowed out. Before this attack, she had been pregnant. My heart breaks. That's when my focus switches to...it.
It's covered in silver scales that reflect back the light from the TV. It's wearing a tapestry of human skin for clothing. The creature's eyes radiate a pale green light. The mouth opens and closes, revealing a set of teeth full of gore. Its fingertips don't reveal talons, meaning it used brute force to pull apart its victims. They also held the remains of a still born child. The creature took it up to its mouth and swallowed the rest whole.
“Mother of God.” I gasp.
“You can go ahead and save your prayers.” The creature says as it licks its lips. It then looks up and stares me dead in the eyes. “God’s not here.”
I didn't even see it move. In less than a blink, I'm knocked onto the floor and my partner is getting his throat ripped out. How can it be that fast? My partner is dead before he hits the floor and the monster's heading my way. Instinctively, I pull up my gun and empty the clip point blank into its chest and face, sending it backwards to the ground.
I can't control my breathing and I think my heart is about to burst. I start to cycle between crying and fits of vomiting. There's movement from the other side of the room. I look up and see the creature standing, the bullets didn't even penetrate the scales. What the hell is this thing?
“Well,” it says mockingly, “that was a lot of fun. We'll have to do it again sometime, soon.”
Suddenly, the window behind it shatters outward and the monster gets sucked through it, disappearing into the night. This is the last thing I remember before blacking out.
It's funny how things work out sometimes. Well, maybe funny's not the right word, let's go with odd. Sorry, you'll have to forgive my inability to focus. I've lost a lot of blood and I'm not sure how much longer I've got. In my last moments I keep finding my mind drifting back to that night. If another car answered that call, I wouldn't be here now and I'd still remain blissfully ignorant of the horrors just over the horizon. And to think, I was almost home...
........................
“...and she actually expects me to let her stay with us! I mean, can you imagine a whole week with her mother? I swear, I was actually hoping I'd get shot tonight so that I wouldn't have to deal with her.”
My partner's been bitching about his mother in law for the last three hours now. I don't think I've said more than three words the whole time. Luckily, our shift's almost over and we're less than halfway back to the station.
This job has been taking its toll on me and I've started getting burnt out. It's reached the point that I can't wait to take this badge off. But, 45 minutes from now, I'll be comfortable in my bed next to my wife and watching bad reality TV. That thought always makes even the worst days seem OK. I'm already feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
“Car 67, car 67. Pick up.” It was Alex, our dispatcher and my soon to be least favorite person on the planet.
“This is Dalton, go ahead.” My partner answers.
“We've just got a call for a possible domestic disturbance. A neighbor said she heard weird sounds coming from the house next door. It's close to your area, can you check it out?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure thing.” Apparently, my partner isn't in nearly as big a hurry to get home as I am.
She gives us the address and we arrive at the house in less than two minutes. We find ourselves parked in front of a modest two story home that sits on a quiet suburban street. The only light in the entire place is coming from a television set in one of the rooms on the top floor.
“Let's just get this over with.” I mutter as I climb out of the cruiser.
Dalton makes his way to the front door and I decide to check out the rest. The door to back gate is lying off its hinges and I begin to get a very bad feeling. I follow the stone path that leads to the backyard. It's a typical setup; it’s got the grill, doghouse and some lawn furniture. I take one more step forward and almost slip on something slick in the grass. I pull out my flashlight, turn it on and aim the beam towards my feet.
“Oh, shit.” That's a lot of blood.
I follow its trail with my flashlight until I find the source, a medium size dog. I can't tell which breed, because in order to do that I'd need to see the head. It's stomach was also ripped to shreds, the contents leaking out everywhere. The assailant, like the head, is nowhere to be found.
I aim the light back at the house and discover that the sliding glass door is shattered. Whoever did this was already inside. I unclip my holster and get my weapon at the ready.
“No one's answering the front door. Ready to...” Dalton starts to say as he enters the backyard.
His face grows white as he puts all the pieces together for himself.
I put a finger up to my mouth, signaling for him to stay quiet and he pulls his weapon out of its holster. Silently, we make our way to the back door with me taking point. We step through the broken glass and I see the dog's head lying on the floor six feet in front of me. There's movement in one of the rooms above us. Heavy footsteps. Then, a muffled cry. We have to move, now.
Abandoning all sense of reason I fly through the kitchen and find the stairs. My partner doesn't even reach the foot of them when I clear the top. The second door on my left has a faint light drifting underneath it, making it easier to see the growing stain on the carpet.
“What the fuck are you doing, tearing off like that? Jesus, Jerry, that's how you get yourself killed.” My partner scolds me in a whisper. Then his eyes find the stain I've been staring at.
I take the left side of the door, he takes the right. Dalton bangs on the door and yells to whoever's inside. “This is the police. We're coming in. If you have any weapons or hostages, it'd be really smart if you'd relinquish them now.”
Something inside the room is laughing and I've never heard anything like it. It's guttural...and wet. My partner and I look at each other and he nods. He moves in front of the door and kicks it. Once. Twice. Three times gives us entry and he steps inside. I follow quickly behind him and stop dead. I look around and my mind splinters.
The TV is showing only static. There's blood on the ceiling. The mattress. Walls. Everything. I didn't know the human body held that much. Resting on the bed is a woman and she's long since passed. Her face is covered in lacerations, her blouse ripped off and her stomach is hollowed out. Before this attack, she had been pregnant. My heart breaks. That's when my focus switches to...it.
It's covered in silver scales that reflect back the light from the TV. It's wearing a tapestry of human skin for clothing. The creature's eyes radiate a pale green light. The mouth opens and closes, revealing a set of teeth full of gore. Its fingertips don't reveal talons, meaning it used brute force to pull apart its victims. They also held the remains of a still born child. The creature took it up to its mouth and swallowed the rest whole.
“Mother of God.” I gasp.
“You can go ahead and save your prayers.” The creature says as it licks its lips. It then looks up and stares me dead in the eyes. “God’s not here.”
I didn't even see it move. In less than a blink, I'm knocked onto the floor and my partner is getting his throat ripped out. How can it be that fast? My partner is dead before he hits the floor and the monster's heading my way. Instinctively, I pull up my gun and empty the clip point blank into its chest and face, sending it backwards to the ground.
I can't control my breathing and I think my heart is about to burst. I start to cycle between crying and fits of vomiting. There's movement from the other side of the room. I look up and see the creature standing, the bullets didn't even penetrate the scales. What the hell is this thing?
“Well,” it says mockingly, “that was a lot of fun. We'll have to do it again sometime, soon.”
Suddenly, the window behind it shatters outward and the monster gets sucked through it, disappearing into the night. This is the last thing I remember before blacking out.
Please, I really need your help.
All I want in this world is to be a writer. I guess I already am in the loosest sense of the term, but I want to do it professionally. I've already written my first book and I'm trying to get it published. It's not easy. I need some way to make noise and I've come up with a few ideas.
This is where you come in. (Don't worry, I'm not asking for money. Not turning it down either, though) I've had coversations with you, Danni and Secret Blogger. You've both told me that this stuff has helped you out, however mildly. I want to be able to do that for as many people as I can, but that can never happen if no one knows how to find it. All I'm asking is that if you dig what you read here, just pass it on. Tell people about it. Scratch the web address (http://www.davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com/) on bathroom walls. Write on the foreheads of hobos as they sleep. I don't care, just please help me get the word out. If I make enough noise, maybe something big will happen. I also don't forget those that help and support what I do.
I also wanted to let you know about something that's going to be taking place in this blog. I've been working on three projects, all of which I've put excerpts on here. (HSH, The Mark and Harbinger) The Mark is a book that I've been working on since I was seventeen, and the prologue is all that I'll put on here. I'm like a drug dealer, that first taste is all that's free. However, I will be releasing the prequel, Harbinger, episodically on this website. Look for the first chapter in the next day or so. The ultimate goal is to turn this into a graphic novel, but the story will be told here first. When the mark does get published I want to release a companion book with it. It will be a collection of stories set during the storm that takes place in the prologue. It will be a chance for unknown writers to make a name for themselves and it's something I'm excited about. There will still be the usual stuff you've come to expect from this blog, but there will also be much more.
Spread the word.
This is where you come in. (Don't worry, I'm not asking for money. Not turning it down either, though) I've had coversations with you, Danni and Secret Blogger. You've both told me that this stuff has helped you out, however mildly. I want to be able to do that for as many people as I can, but that can never happen if no one knows how to find it. All I'm asking is that if you dig what you read here, just pass it on. Tell people about it. Scratch the web address (http://www.davlinisnotyourfriend.blogspot.com/) on bathroom walls. Write on the foreheads of hobos as they sleep. I don't care, just please help me get the word out. If I make enough noise, maybe something big will happen. I also don't forget those that help and support what I do.
I also wanted to let you know about something that's going to be taking place in this blog. I've been working on three projects, all of which I've put excerpts on here. (HSH, The Mark and Harbinger) The Mark is a book that I've been working on since I was seventeen, and the prologue is all that I'll put on here. I'm like a drug dealer, that first taste is all that's free. However, I will be releasing the prequel, Harbinger, episodically on this website. Look for the first chapter in the next day or so. The ultimate goal is to turn this into a graphic novel, but the story will be told here first. When the mark does get published I want to release a companion book with it. It will be a collection of stories set during the storm that takes place in the prologue. It will be a chance for unknown writers to make a name for themselves and it's something I'm excited about. There will still be the usual stuff you've come to expect from this blog, but there will also be much more.
Spread the word.
Harbinger-an excerpt
It always starts out exactly the same way, with total darkness. I can't see anything, but the dins of war are overwhelming. Metal scrapes against metal. Thousands of wings rustle together in flight. Battle cries and screams of anguish can be heard from all directions. Then, there are the wet sounds of liquid splashing across the ground, always followed by a heavy weight. I open my eyes and gasp.
For millennia, we've lived in peace. There was never so much as a harsh word spoken between any of us. That's all over, now. After tonight nothing will ever be the same again. The fighting stretches far beyond my eye's capabilities to follow. The sky fills with the sounds of heavy sobs.
Father is crying.
Something heavy strikes my right temple, sending me to the ground. I drop my sword and my assailant kicks it away before I get a chance to retrieve it. My head is filled with a blinding white light that makes it impossible to see who is standing above me.
"Do you want to live?" The voice asks. It's him.
My vision kicks back in. His blonde hair flows in the wind behind him. His light blue eyes gleam with hatred. His golden armor and perfect face are stained in red. The point of his sword is at my throat. He started all of this.
The Morning Star.
"I'm only going to ask you this once more, Michael." He says. "Do you want to live?"
"Yes." is all I can say.
"Then denounce Him."
I was more than thankful for the thunder that brought me out of my nightmare. We have them every night to serve as a reminder. I sit up in my bed that's soaked in sweat and wipe the sleep from my eyes. The glowing red numbers on the alarm clock read 9:17 p.m. Just as well, I needed to get up anyways.
I stand up, stretching my arms and wings as I make my way to the window. The rain is coming down hard. It mixes with discarded motor oil before it reaches the storm drains. It's getting to the point that I can't even remember what this world was like before it became sick, back when it was still clean and untouched. Before men.
A harvest moon hangs in the sky, never a good sign. My cell phone rings and I answer it. Gabriel's on the other end.
"Michael?" He sounded panicked. He never gets that way. Another bad sign.
"Yeah?" "There's been another attack. Man, they're getting more brazen."
"Calm down. What happened?"
"They got a convenience store this time. 9 dead and 1 survivor."
"What kind of demon was it?"
"No. That's just it. It wasn't a demon. It was..." his voice cracked, " the Fallen, man. They're here."
"That's impossible. They're not allowed to come up."
"Yeah, well, apparently things have changed. The woman who survived described them perfectly."
"Them? How many were there? And do we know which ones?"
"There were four of them, not sure about their identities. She could see through us as well. She knew what we were."
"This is insane. First the cop and now her? What's going on, Gabe?"
"I don't know. Something bad is coming. Can you meet us at the usual place?"
"Yeah. I'll be there in thirty minutes." I hung up the phone, got dressed, grabbed my weapons and was out the door in five.
For millennia, we've lived in peace. There was never so much as a harsh word spoken between any of us. That's all over, now. After tonight nothing will ever be the same again. The fighting stretches far beyond my eye's capabilities to follow. The sky fills with the sounds of heavy sobs.
Father is crying.
Something heavy strikes my right temple, sending me to the ground. I drop my sword and my assailant kicks it away before I get a chance to retrieve it. My head is filled with a blinding white light that makes it impossible to see who is standing above me.
"Do you want to live?" The voice asks. It's him.
My vision kicks back in. His blonde hair flows in the wind behind him. His light blue eyes gleam with hatred. His golden armor and perfect face are stained in red. The point of his sword is at my throat. He started all of this.
The Morning Star.
"I'm only going to ask you this once more, Michael." He says. "Do you want to live?"
"Yes." is all I can say.
"Then denounce Him."
I was more than thankful for the thunder that brought me out of my nightmare. We have them every night to serve as a reminder. I sit up in my bed that's soaked in sweat and wipe the sleep from my eyes. The glowing red numbers on the alarm clock read 9:17 p.m. Just as well, I needed to get up anyways.
I stand up, stretching my arms and wings as I make my way to the window. The rain is coming down hard. It mixes with discarded motor oil before it reaches the storm drains. It's getting to the point that I can't even remember what this world was like before it became sick, back when it was still clean and untouched. Before men.
A harvest moon hangs in the sky, never a good sign. My cell phone rings and I answer it. Gabriel's on the other end.
"Michael?" He sounded panicked. He never gets that way. Another bad sign.
"Yeah?" "There's been another attack. Man, they're getting more brazen."
"Calm down. What happened?"
"They got a convenience store this time. 9 dead and 1 survivor."
"What kind of demon was it?"
"No. That's just it. It wasn't a demon. It was..." his voice cracked, " the Fallen, man. They're here."
"That's impossible. They're not allowed to come up."
"Yeah, well, apparently things have changed. The woman who survived described them perfectly."
"Them? How many were there? And do we know which ones?"
"There were four of them, not sure about their identities. She could see through us as well. She knew what we were."
"This is insane. First the cop and now her? What's going on, Gabe?"
"I don't know. Something bad is coming. Can you meet us at the usual place?"
"Yeah. I'll be there in thirty minutes." I hung up the phone, got dressed, grabbed my weapons and was out the door in five.
The Mark: Chapter 1
“I hope you have somewhere else to go, because you no longer have a home here!”
My father's angry words rang heavily inside my ears as the front door of the house slammed shut behind me. I didn't even look back once as I made my way across the yard to my car. This had already happened a few times before, and I knew all my belongings would be waiting for me in the front yard when I returned. I pulled my keys from my pocket, unlocked the car door, and climbed inside. I sighed as I put the key into the ignition. It was only then that I finally looked back towards the house. The hate that brewed inside could even be felt from all the way out to the street. Hopefully, all Dad needed was a little time to cool off, and by the time I got off of work things would be better.
Life had been utter shit ever since Mom died and Dad remarried. For the most part my stepmother was ok, we just didn't see eye to eye on a whole lot of things. I think she viewed my older brother and myself as physical evidence that Dad had once been in love with another woman besides herself, and resented us for it. Samuel, the eldest, got sick of it and left. I hadn't see or heard from him in three years. However, it wasn't all bad.
The best thing that had come from Dad's new union was my younger brother, Nicholas. He had just celebrated his fifth birthday, and watching him grow had been a joy. He was the flower that had grown from the field of shit that was our broken home.
Most of the tensions grew from Samuel, Dad, and myself. Every single night had been a continuation of an ongoing fight that had lasted for six long years. I wasn't even sure what this particular spat had been about. At that point, though, I didn't even care.
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself as I turned the key. The engine roared to life and I sped off. I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. With a shaky hand I turned the radio on full blast and got lost inside a cacophony of guitar and lyrics.
It was about ten minutes later when I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store that I so reluctantly called my job. Part of me wished I could just keep on driving until I found somewhere better to be, or just simply ran out of gas. Quite frankly, I would've settled for either. I was already half an hour late and I knew the boss would have my ass for it. I pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. My hands were still shaking. Why did I always let him get to me like this? I should be used to this by now.
With that thought in mind I climbed out and shut the door behind me. I glanced at the store and then looked up at the sky. I took in the beauty of the blue abyss that had been dotted with clouds. I found solace in the warmth of the sun, and smiled briefly. If I had known that this would be the last time I would ever see it, I probably would have stood there a little bit longer.
“Well, from one hell to another, I guess.” I said to myself as I walked sullenly towards the store. Little did I know how prophetic that throw away comment would soon be.
Halfway to the store's entrance I noticed flakes of snow, slowly wafting down from the sky. Least, that's what I figured it was. Then I remembered that it was August, I live in Texas, and the temperature was a mild 99 degrees. I picked up one of these “flakes.
“Funny,” I thought to myself, “I don't remember the weatherman saying anything about it raining feathers today.”
I looked up and around the parking lot. These feathers were everywhere, ranging in colors and sizes, some over a foot long. Several of them had splashes of a red liquid that made them hit the ground with a splat, staining where ever they had landed. I had no idea what could have caused such a phenomenon, but I was late, so I tossed the feather aside.
The doors opened in front of me, greeting me with a gust of artificially cooled air, and I stepped inside. No more than two seconds in, and the boss was already down my throat.
“Where the hell have you been? Do you realize you were supposed to be here forty five minutes ago?” He interrogated.
“Well, if it helps, sir, I've been in the parking lot for fifteen minutes.” I spat out sarcastically.
“I don't have time for this, get to work or your fired.” He threatened before turning around and walking away.
I flipped him off, went to the time clock, punched in, and started working at my checkout line. God, I hated my job. I saw the worst type of people come through my line: thieves, liars, and, more importantly, the assholes. Days like this made it really hard to keep that fake smile plastered on my face just so I could interact with all the customers.
And then it happened.
My co-worker, Jen, screamed out to me. “Joe, come quick! You've got to see this.” She was standing next to the window with a look of bewilderment and awe on her face.
“Jen, what's wro...” I started to ask as I made my way over to where she stood, but lost my voice at what I saw.
She didn't need to answer anyway. The sight spoke for itself. I looked out the window and up at the sky. It looked like it was on fire. There was simply no other way to describe it. Enormous streams of smoke billowed from the fires and covered the sky like a shroud. The clouds of smoke only grew thicker and darker as the fires consumed the sky. This didn't stop until it and the sun and sky were blacked out, leaving a premature darkness over the city. Burned down to a smoldering blackness, the sky seemed to swallow itself up into darkness, taking the earth with it. It grew so black that all I could see was my reflection in the store window. Looking back, raining feathers didn't seem so strange, considering what followed it. Suddenly, the blackness began to glow with a blood red tint.
That's when the storms came and with a fury. Thunder like I had never heard before echoed from every direction. The glowing sky churned and seethed in a completely unnatural way. The thunder receded, and a silence came. Nobody outside moved. Everyone in the store crowded around the windows, completely frozen. That's when the sky screamed. It let loose an ungodly cry that rattled every window and crumbled loose bits of dust from the ceiling tiles. Then the rain fell. It was a horrible mix of blood and acid.
Those unfortunate enough to be on the streets screamed in agony as the boiling brew fell upon them. I watched in horror and revulsion as the flesh melted off of their bones. It reminded me of one summer I spent with a bucket full of army men, and a very powerful magnifying glass. I felt sick. Sick with sympathy for the poor souls out there. I swallowed down the bile taste that formed inside my mouth. It all happened so fast. I wanted to help the people outside, to open the doors and help them, but they wouldn't even make it that far. To go to them would be suicide.
The tires on the cars melted on the asphalt from the heat that was steadily growing outside. It was so intense that the windows became too hot to even stand near.
Unnatural lightning erupted from the heavens and exploded on the ground in fiery bursts of crimson, obliterating whatever they hit with pyrotechnic displays of destruction. Buildings all around us were being blown down to rubble by awesome winds. My lunchtime options were diminishing rapidly. That's when the lights went out.
Twelve hours later...
It was only when the storms ceased that the emergency lights finally kicked on. This gave us a better view of the chaos that had been wrought all around us. No other buildings surrounded us. It's funny. I had always joked that when the world ended, all that would be left were cockroaches and this god forsaken store. I just never thought I'd actually be right. People started to say that it was a sign from God that we saved.
Everyone was huddled together in fear or silent prayer. I saw a little girl that clutched a teddy bear close to her chest as she whimpered in her mother's arms. I felt a sting of pity when I saw the fear that resided within her eyes.
“Well, at least it's all over.” I said to her gently, hoping it would offer some comfort.
“Everyone, come here! There's something out there!” A man screamed as he looked out the window.
We all made our way to where he was standing and followed his gaze. All I could see was red. Red skies. Red pavement. Red rubble. Red mist...then I saw it. The shadows outside seemed to be alive. There was movement everywhere. The vapors hanging in the air swirled and cloaked the figures, making it impossible to tell who, or what, they were. Then, something came into view.
It looked human, as far as shape and form were concerned. Hunched over as it gated the ground, knees to face and elbows scraping the pavement. Hairless on the few patches of skin it had left, its body wretchedly thin. Every step it took looked like a mile, and it felt as if the creature could reach out from where it stood and grab us through the glass. The arms alone must have been 6 feet long from shoulder to tip. It stood up towering above everything, standing over eight feet tall. Its arms stretched down past its knees and ended with talon tipped fingers. But the creepiest, most horrifying detail was the face.
The corners of its mouth stretched to the back of its skull in a permanent smile that revealed a jumble of needles that can only begin to look like teeth. Thousands of them standing at a messy attention behind its jovial expression. It's face looked like a mans might after it was peeled off a brick wall after a head on collision, flat from forehead to jaw with two in the middle for sniffing out its prey. The tissue of it's scalp and forehead was bulled down over its eyes and tied back behind its head, creating a makeshift blindfold. Its spine jutted out like the teeth of a saw.
A few people in the store rushed to lock and barricade the doors. I knew it was useless. If the bastard wanted in, it'd find a way.
Its head swiveled back and forth as if sniffing the air. It paused, and turned its head to look directly towards us. As its eyeless gaze fell upon us I felt a shiver run down my spine and stay there. My worst fear was confirmed; it knew we were there. The chill was a stark contrast to the head that had grown from outside, but offered no relief. It reached a taloned hand out towards us and I blinked. In the fraction of the second that my eyes were closed, it had already made the distance from where it stood across the parking lot to the window.
“Fuck me,” I gasped.
It tapped the glass with a single clawed finger, and I watched as its smile grew even larger, tightening the skin around the face. I looked behind it and saw why. Hundreds of creatures just like it came out from the shadows and joined him at the window. Most of them were smaller than him, but some were bigger. It didn't make a difference what size they were, though, they all seemed just as deadly. Some had no skin over where their eyes should have been, just empty holes. Every one different in its own way, and yet the same.
Some people inside screamed and began to run to the back of the building, while others just stood in their place, paralyzed. Unfortunately, I was with the latter, and I've seen enough horror movies to know better. As if on cue, all the creatures opened up their mouths and let loose screams that shook the windows until they shattered inwards. Some of the people around me had blood pouring from their ears, a sign their eardrums had burst.
The creatures flowed into the store like water from a crumbling dam. They whirled through the crowd of stunned patrons, randomly slaughtering anyone in their path. Screams of agony could be heard from all directions. I stood there dumbfounded until one of them backhanded me. I flew back, bounced off a checkout counter, and landed hard on the floor. It was already on top of me. I gazed into the empty sockets that once might have contained eyes, then at that damn smile. The emergency lights reflected off of its bloody muscle and tissue where skin should be. It opened its mouth, and drool fell onto me. It smelled like rancid meat left out in the sun. I came out of my stupor as it raised its hand. I kicked his kneecaps hard, and it howled as they cracked and were broken in the opposite direction. I stood up and ran, my paralysis having finally wore off. God, they were everywhere, tearing customers and employees apart unmercifully and without prejudice.
I heard the fabric on the back of my shirt rip and felt the skin tear. I fell forward and landed on my face, hard. As I flipped over I saw two more standing at my feet. Before I could try any sad attempt at fighting back, one grabbed me by the head and lifted me up off of the ground. Its palm pressed against my forehead, and its fingers wrapped around to the base of my skull. A blinding light emitted from the center of its palm, and I pass out from the pain.
When I awoke it felt like my forehead was on fire. I had a blinding headache, and as I reached up to touch the wound, I could feel heat radiating from it. I stood up and looked around me, my eyes barely able to approach the carnage they were seeing. The store looked as though a fire had swept through it. Charred boxed and foodstuffs lay scattered about. More disturbingly, so were people. I random parts and entrails everywhere. Then, sadly, I saw a tiny severed hand that still clutched a teddy bear.
“Jesus Christ.” It was more of a declaration than a prayer, really. Upon further inspection I found neither a survivor, nor any of the creatures that had butchered them all.
I walked into the bathroom and looked into the cracked mirror. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw in my reflection. A cross was carved and seared deep into the skin of my forehead. The cross was inverted, and inscribed around the intersection was a circle with three bent legs equilaterally placed. It looked like a six, copied and turned once, then copied and turned against. For those of you keeping score, that's three of them. It was about this point that I realized just how fucked I truly was.
Once I had calmed down a little bit, something lurking in the back of my mind came to the forefront and screamed for some much needed attention.
“Nicholas!” I screamed and ran to the front door.
I stopped, afraid of what might happen to me if I stepped outside, remembering the boiling rain and earth shaking storms from hours earlier. As I looked at the debris and ruin, it became clear to me that things outside had settled down enough to venture out.
As I stepped out onto the concrete, my shoes sizzled. The air was hot and heavy, filled with the stench of death and decay. There was nothing left standing on the block except the store.
I ran. I ran as fast as I could towards where I knew my house was, although all the old landmarks were gone. I could only tell where I was going by the up heaved road that I had been driving on almost a day prior. It seemed like a lifetime before I reached my street. All of the houses were gone or leveled. A sea of foundations where there had been a myriad of bricks, windows, and siding. What had once been trees and laws were now charred stumps amidst an ocean of red rubble.
My house was only a hundred feet or so from the turn, and I could see it standing alone, or at least I thought it was standing. Half of it was torn out, and the other half was staying up with only the support of my only prayer.
Please, let him still be alive. Please, let me find him. Please, please, please...
I saw my father's corpse lying in the front yard, dismembered and blood soaked. I nearly vomited at the sight of his body, and every word that I spat at him during our fight flooded my inner thoughts, wracking me with guilt. I fell hard onto my knees and wretched my stomach until I nearly heaved out my intestines.
Lying there on the ground, I heard it. The only beacon of hope from the darkest twenty four hours of my life. Using every bit of strength left, I pulled myself to my feet and walked towards the remains of the house. I passed through the remnants of the living room towards the source of the sound. There he was, my little brother, the only source of hope and redemption in my life. He was crouched, holding the lifeless body of his mother in his lap. Cradling her head, he rocked back and forth, back and forth. Tears streaming down his tiny face, barely audible sobs emanating from his rigid body.
“Monsters came. They took Daddy away. And now...Mommy won't wake up. Please, Joe. Make her wake up.”
I collapsed next to him and pulled him towards me, holding his head against my chest.
“I'm sorry, Nicky. I'm so sorry.”
We wept together then. Little did we know, we only got a taste of hell that day. It was meant to prepare us for the worst yet to come.
My father's angry words rang heavily inside my ears as the front door of the house slammed shut behind me. I didn't even look back once as I made my way across the yard to my car. This had already happened a few times before, and I knew all my belongings would be waiting for me in the front yard when I returned. I pulled my keys from my pocket, unlocked the car door, and climbed inside. I sighed as I put the key into the ignition. It was only then that I finally looked back towards the house. The hate that brewed inside could even be felt from all the way out to the street. Hopefully, all Dad needed was a little time to cool off, and by the time I got off of work things would be better.
Life had been utter shit ever since Mom died and Dad remarried. For the most part my stepmother was ok, we just didn't see eye to eye on a whole lot of things. I think she viewed my older brother and myself as physical evidence that Dad had once been in love with another woman besides herself, and resented us for it. Samuel, the eldest, got sick of it and left. I hadn't see or heard from him in three years. However, it wasn't all bad.
The best thing that had come from Dad's new union was my younger brother, Nicholas. He had just celebrated his fifth birthday, and watching him grow had been a joy. He was the flower that had grown from the field of shit that was our broken home.
Most of the tensions grew from Samuel, Dad, and myself. Every single night had been a continuation of an ongoing fight that had lasted for six long years. I wasn't even sure what this particular spat had been about. At that point, though, I didn't even care.
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself as I turned the key. The engine roared to life and I sped off. I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. With a shaky hand I turned the radio on full blast and got lost inside a cacophony of guitar and lyrics.
It was about ten minutes later when I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store that I so reluctantly called my job. Part of me wished I could just keep on driving until I found somewhere better to be, or just simply ran out of gas. Quite frankly, I would've settled for either. I was already half an hour late and I knew the boss would have my ass for it. I pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. My hands were still shaking. Why did I always let him get to me like this? I should be used to this by now.
With that thought in mind I climbed out and shut the door behind me. I glanced at the store and then looked up at the sky. I took in the beauty of the blue abyss that had been dotted with clouds. I found solace in the warmth of the sun, and smiled briefly. If I had known that this would be the last time I would ever see it, I probably would have stood there a little bit longer.
“Well, from one hell to another, I guess.” I said to myself as I walked sullenly towards the store. Little did I know how prophetic that throw away comment would soon be.
Halfway to the store's entrance I noticed flakes of snow, slowly wafting down from the sky. Least, that's what I figured it was. Then I remembered that it was August, I live in Texas, and the temperature was a mild 99 degrees. I picked up one of these “flakes.
“Funny,” I thought to myself, “I don't remember the weatherman saying anything about it raining feathers today.”
I looked up and around the parking lot. These feathers were everywhere, ranging in colors and sizes, some over a foot long. Several of them had splashes of a red liquid that made them hit the ground with a splat, staining where ever they had landed. I had no idea what could have caused such a phenomenon, but I was late, so I tossed the feather aside.
The doors opened in front of me, greeting me with a gust of artificially cooled air, and I stepped inside. No more than two seconds in, and the boss was already down my throat.
“Where the hell have you been? Do you realize you were supposed to be here forty five minutes ago?” He interrogated.
“Well, if it helps, sir, I've been in the parking lot for fifteen minutes.” I spat out sarcastically.
“I don't have time for this, get to work or your fired.” He threatened before turning around and walking away.
I flipped him off, went to the time clock, punched in, and started working at my checkout line. God, I hated my job. I saw the worst type of people come through my line: thieves, liars, and, more importantly, the assholes. Days like this made it really hard to keep that fake smile plastered on my face just so I could interact with all the customers.
And then it happened.
My co-worker, Jen, screamed out to me. “Joe, come quick! You've got to see this.” She was standing next to the window with a look of bewilderment and awe on her face.
“Jen, what's wro...” I started to ask as I made my way over to where she stood, but lost my voice at what I saw.
She didn't need to answer anyway. The sight spoke for itself. I looked out the window and up at the sky. It looked like it was on fire. There was simply no other way to describe it. Enormous streams of smoke billowed from the fires and covered the sky like a shroud. The clouds of smoke only grew thicker and darker as the fires consumed the sky. This didn't stop until it and the sun and sky were blacked out, leaving a premature darkness over the city. Burned down to a smoldering blackness, the sky seemed to swallow itself up into darkness, taking the earth with it. It grew so black that all I could see was my reflection in the store window. Looking back, raining feathers didn't seem so strange, considering what followed it. Suddenly, the blackness began to glow with a blood red tint.
That's when the storms came and with a fury. Thunder like I had never heard before echoed from every direction. The glowing sky churned and seethed in a completely unnatural way. The thunder receded, and a silence came. Nobody outside moved. Everyone in the store crowded around the windows, completely frozen. That's when the sky screamed. It let loose an ungodly cry that rattled every window and crumbled loose bits of dust from the ceiling tiles. Then the rain fell. It was a horrible mix of blood and acid.
Those unfortunate enough to be on the streets screamed in agony as the boiling brew fell upon them. I watched in horror and revulsion as the flesh melted off of their bones. It reminded me of one summer I spent with a bucket full of army men, and a very powerful magnifying glass. I felt sick. Sick with sympathy for the poor souls out there. I swallowed down the bile taste that formed inside my mouth. It all happened so fast. I wanted to help the people outside, to open the doors and help them, but they wouldn't even make it that far. To go to them would be suicide.
The tires on the cars melted on the asphalt from the heat that was steadily growing outside. It was so intense that the windows became too hot to even stand near.
Unnatural lightning erupted from the heavens and exploded on the ground in fiery bursts of crimson, obliterating whatever they hit with pyrotechnic displays of destruction. Buildings all around us were being blown down to rubble by awesome winds. My lunchtime options were diminishing rapidly. That's when the lights went out.
Twelve hours later...
It was only when the storms ceased that the emergency lights finally kicked on. This gave us a better view of the chaos that had been wrought all around us. No other buildings surrounded us. It's funny. I had always joked that when the world ended, all that would be left were cockroaches and this god forsaken store. I just never thought I'd actually be right. People started to say that it was a sign from God that we saved.
Everyone was huddled together in fear or silent prayer. I saw a little girl that clutched a teddy bear close to her chest as she whimpered in her mother's arms. I felt a sting of pity when I saw the fear that resided within her eyes.
“Well, at least it's all over.” I said to her gently, hoping it would offer some comfort.
“Everyone, come here! There's something out there!” A man screamed as he looked out the window.
We all made our way to where he was standing and followed his gaze. All I could see was red. Red skies. Red pavement. Red rubble. Red mist...then I saw it. The shadows outside seemed to be alive. There was movement everywhere. The vapors hanging in the air swirled and cloaked the figures, making it impossible to tell who, or what, they were. Then, something came into view.
It looked human, as far as shape and form were concerned. Hunched over as it gated the ground, knees to face and elbows scraping the pavement. Hairless on the few patches of skin it had left, its body wretchedly thin. Every step it took looked like a mile, and it felt as if the creature could reach out from where it stood and grab us through the glass. The arms alone must have been 6 feet long from shoulder to tip. It stood up towering above everything, standing over eight feet tall. Its arms stretched down past its knees and ended with talon tipped fingers. But the creepiest, most horrifying detail was the face.
The corners of its mouth stretched to the back of its skull in a permanent smile that revealed a jumble of needles that can only begin to look like teeth. Thousands of them standing at a messy attention behind its jovial expression. It's face looked like a mans might after it was peeled off a brick wall after a head on collision, flat from forehead to jaw with two in the middle for sniffing out its prey. The tissue of it's scalp and forehead was bulled down over its eyes and tied back behind its head, creating a makeshift blindfold. Its spine jutted out like the teeth of a saw.
A few people in the store rushed to lock and barricade the doors. I knew it was useless. If the bastard wanted in, it'd find a way.
Its head swiveled back and forth as if sniffing the air. It paused, and turned its head to look directly towards us. As its eyeless gaze fell upon us I felt a shiver run down my spine and stay there. My worst fear was confirmed; it knew we were there. The chill was a stark contrast to the head that had grown from outside, but offered no relief. It reached a taloned hand out towards us and I blinked. In the fraction of the second that my eyes were closed, it had already made the distance from where it stood across the parking lot to the window.
“Fuck me,” I gasped.
It tapped the glass with a single clawed finger, and I watched as its smile grew even larger, tightening the skin around the face. I looked behind it and saw why. Hundreds of creatures just like it came out from the shadows and joined him at the window. Most of them were smaller than him, but some were bigger. It didn't make a difference what size they were, though, they all seemed just as deadly. Some had no skin over where their eyes should have been, just empty holes. Every one different in its own way, and yet the same.
Some people inside screamed and began to run to the back of the building, while others just stood in their place, paralyzed. Unfortunately, I was with the latter, and I've seen enough horror movies to know better. As if on cue, all the creatures opened up their mouths and let loose screams that shook the windows until they shattered inwards. Some of the people around me had blood pouring from their ears, a sign their eardrums had burst.
The creatures flowed into the store like water from a crumbling dam. They whirled through the crowd of stunned patrons, randomly slaughtering anyone in their path. Screams of agony could be heard from all directions. I stood there dumbfounded until one of them backhanded me. I flew back, bounced off a checkout counter, and landed hard on the floor. It was already on top of me. I gazed into the empty sockets that once might have contained eyes, then at that damn smile. The emergency lights reflected off of its bloody muscle and tissue where skin should be. It opened its mouth, and drool fell onto me. It smelled like rancid meat left out in the sun. I came out of my stupor as it raised its hand. I kicked his kneecaps hard, and it howled as they cracked and were broken in the opposite direction. I stood up and ran, my paralysis having finally wore off. God, they were everywhere, tearing customers and employees apart unmercifully and without prejudice.
I heard the fabric on the back of my shirt rip and felt the skin tear. I fell forward and landed on my face, hard. As I flipped over I saw two more standing at my feet. Before I could try any sad attempt at fighting back, one grabbed me by the head and lifted me up off of the ground. Its palm pressed against my forehead, and its fingers wrapped around to the base of my skull. A blinding light emitted from the center of its palm, and I pass out from the pain.
When I awoke it felt like my forehead was on fire. I had a blinding headache, and as I reached up to touch the wound, I could feel heat radiating from it. I stood up and looked around me, my eyes barely able to approach the carnage they were seeing. The store looked as though a fire had swept through it. Charred boxed and foodstuffs lay scattered about. More disturbingly, so were people. I random parts and entrails everywhere. Then, sadly, I saw a tiny severed hand that still clutched a teddy bear.
“Jesus Christ.” It was more of a declaration than a prayer, really. Upon further inspection I found neither a survivor, nor any of the creatures that had butchered them all.
I walked into the bathroom and looked into the cracked mirror. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw in my reflection. A cross was carved and seared deep into the skin of my forehead. The cross was inverted, and inscribed around the intersection was a circle with three bent legs equilaterally placed. It looked like a six, copied and turned once, then copied and turned against. For those of you keeping score, that's three of them. It was about this point that I realized just how fucked I truly was.
Once I had calmed down a little bit, something lurking in the back of my mind came to the forefront and screamed for some much needed attention.
“Nicholas!” I screamed and ran to the front door.
I stopped, afraid of what might happen to me if I stepped outside, remembering the boiling rain and earth shaking storms from hours earlier. As I looked at the debris and ruin, it became clear to me that things outside had settled down enough to venture out.
As I stepped out onto the concrete, my shoes sizzled. The air was hot and heavy, filled with the stench of death and decay. There was nothing left standing on the block except the store.
I ran. I ran as fast as I could towards where I knew my house was, although all the old landmarks were gone. I could only tell where I was going by the up heaved road that I had been driving on almost a day prior. It seemed like a lifetime before I reached my street. All of the houses were gone or leveled. A sea of foundations where there had been a myriad of bricks, windows, and siding. What had once been trees and laws were now charred stumps amidst an ocean of red rubble.
My house was only a hundred feet or so from the turn, and I could see it standing alone, or at least I thought it was standing. Half of it was torn out, and the other half was staying up with only the support of my only prayer.
Please, let him still be alive. Please, let me find him. Please, please, please...
I saw my father's corpse lying in the front yard, dismembered and blood soaked. I nearly vomited at the sight of his body, and every word that I spat at him during our fight flooded my inner thoughts, wracking me with guilt. I fell hard onto my knees and wretched my stomach until I nearly heaved out my intestines.
Lying there on the ground, I heard it. The only beacon of hope from the darkest twenty four hours of my life. Using every bit of strength left, I pulled myself to my feet and walked towards the remains of the house. I passed through the remnants of the living room towards the source of the sound. There he was, my little brother, the only source of hope and redemption in my life. He was crouched, holding the lifeless body of his mother in his lap. Cradling her head, he rocked back and forth, back and forth. Tears streaming down his tiny face, barely audible sobs emanating from his rigid body.
“Monsters came. They took Daddy away. And now...Mommy won't wake up. Please, Joe. Make her wake up.”
I collapsed next to him and pulled him towards me, holding his head against my chest.
“I'm sorry, Nicky. I'm so sorry.”
We wept together then. Little did we know, we only got a taste of hell that day. It was meant to prepare us for the worst yet to come.
Everything Has A Price
On my lunch break I got a call from my cousin asking me to pick her up from work. All I wanted to do was go straight home, but I told her I'd help her out. On the way there, the buildings grew more and more dilapidated. Welcome to South Dallas, a place a skinny white boy like myself shouldn't be traveling alone.
I called her when I got there and asked if I could come inside because I really had to pee. I opened the car door, climbed out and the second it shut behind me I realized the keys were still in the ignition. Perfect. This happens to me. A lot. Why don't I get a spare key you ask? I don't know and you're really starting to sound like my father.
There's a church next to her office, so I went in there to see if they had anything that could help me out. The inside was rundown with a few pews in front of an elevated stage, on which rested a drum set, guitars and other equipment. It looked like they had turned one of the old music clubs in Deep Ellum into a place of worship. Badass. An old biker guy wearing a bandanna ended up finding a hanger and told me if I couldn't get it to come back for help. I worked with the hanger for 15 minutes before I realized I had no idea what I was doing and went back for assistance.
He grabbed a hammer and two wooden wedges and we went back to my car.
"I learned this trick when I worked for a used car dealership." He told me.
"Hey, I'm not judging you. I just hope this works."
He wedged the door open and began trying to use the hanger to catch the lock. I told the biker that I really appreciated the help he was giving me and he told me to thank Jesus, because he was just the messenger. Ok...um...thanks Jesus.
I was only wearing a T-shirt and my coat stared at me from the back seat. My teeth started to chatter and my cousin told me she was going to get me her extra sweater. While she was gone the biker went back to find something stronger. It was at this point that another guy rode up on a bike.
"Lock your keys in your car." Must resist urge...to make...sarcastic comment.
"Yeah." Whew...almost didn't make it.
"I can help you out."
"Alright. Thanks."
"So I have permission to touch your car."
"Yeah, I'm not using it at the moment."
"I'm just making sure. I'm no car thief."
"Right on."
He pulled out a pair of pliers from his pocket, unscrewed my antenea and made the end into a curve. At this point my cousin comes back with the sweater. So now I'm a skinny white boy in south Dallas in a white lace sweater. I ask her if she has the pumps to match it and the guy laughs. I was really touched that these guys went out of their way to help a stranger. It's so rare in life that we take the time to do a selfless act for our fellow man. After about ten minutes, he's got the door open. I thank him profusely.
"You know, I just saved you a fortune." Of course, here it comes. "I'm trying to get something to eat and I'd really like your help." You son of a bitch.
I explain to him that I've only got $20 to last until my next payday. This was the truth. I didn't have any money that I could spare.
"That's ok, I'll take ten."
"It's not broken."
"I'll go down there to the store with you." He wasn't backing down.
"I don't want to go down there."
"You don't get. I'm gonna go down there with you." Fuck me. I'm gonna get stabbed tonight.
"Hold on."
I went inside my cousin's work but no one had change. I've just started enjoying my life, I don't want it to end. I went back to the church and they helped me out again. When I returned to the guy the exchange went like this:
"Look, man. This 20 is all I have to my name. That's it until next week. I can't give you ten, that's half of what I'm worth. I'll give you five."
"You're hurting me, man."
"And you're hurting me. I appreciate what you've done for me, but now I can't eat tonight. So there you go."
He stared at me for a long time. I grew uncomfortable.
"You're really hurting me man. I can't believe you're not gonna give me ten."
"You get five. Take it or don't." You aggressive bastard.
Finally, he sighed and took it before riding off in the sunset. I was pissed. I just don't know why something has to always be expected, you know? Why do nice things always have to have a catch? There's probably a lesson in there somewhere. Good one, Jesus.
I called her when I got there and asked if I could come inside because I really had to pee. I opened the car door, climbed out and the second it shut behind me I realized the keys were still in the ignition. Perfect. This happens to me. A lot. Why don't I get a spare key you ask? I don't know and you're really starting to sound like my father.
There's a church next to her office, so I went in there to see if they had anything that could help me out. The inside was rundown with a few pews in front of an elevated stage, on which rested a drum set, guitars and other equipment. It looked like they had turned one of the old music clubs in Deep Ellum into a place of worship. Badass. An old biker guy wearing a bandanna ended up finding a hanger and told me if I couldn't get it to come back for help. I worked with the hanger for 15 minutes before I realized I had no idea what I was doing and went back for assistance.
He grabbed a hammer and two wooden wedges and we went back to my car.
"I learned this trick when I worked for a used car dealership." He told me.
"Hey, I'm not judging you. I just hope this works."
He wedged the door open and began trying to use the hanger to catch the lock. I told the biker that I really appreciated the help he was giving me and he told me to thank Jesus, because he was just the messenger. Ok...um...thanks Jesus.
I was only wearing a T-shirt and my coat stared at me from the back seat. My teeth started to chatter and my cousin told me she was going to get me her extra sweater. While she was gone the biker went back to find something stronger. It was at this point that another guy rode up on a bike.
"Lock your keys in your car." Must resist urge...to make...sarcastic comment.
"Yeah." Whew...almost didn't make it.
"I can help you out."
"Alright. Thanks."
"So I have permission to touch your car."
"Yeah, I'm not using it at the moment."
"I'm just making sure. I'm no car thief."
"Right on."
He pulled out a pair of pliers from his pocket, unscrewed my antenea and made the end into a curve. At this point my cousin comes back with the sweater. So now I'm a skinny white boy in south Dallas in a white lace sweater. I ask her if she has the pumps to match it and the guy laughs. I was really touched that these guys went out of their way to help a stranger. It's so rare in life that we take the time to do a selfless act for our fellow man. After about ten minutes, he's got the door open. I thank him profusely.
"You know, I just saved you a fortune." Of course, here it comes. "I'm trying to get something to eat and I'd really like your help." You son of a bitch.
I explain to him that I've only got $20 to last until my next payday. This was the truth. I didn't have any money that I could spare.
"That's ok, I'll take ten."
"It's not broken."
"I'll go down there to the store with you." He wasn't backing down.
"I don't want to go down there."
"You don't get. I'm gonna go down there with you." Fuck me. I'm gonna get stabbed tonight.
"Hold on."
I went inside my cousin's work but no one had change. I've just started enjoying my life, I don't want it to end. I went back to the church and they helped me out again. When I returned to the guy the exchange went like this:
"Look, man. This 20 is all I have to my name. That's it until next week. I can't give you ten, that's half of what I'm worth. I'll give you five."
"You're hurting me, man."
"And you're hurting me. I appreciate what you've done for me, but now I can't eat tonight. So there you go."
He stared at me for a long time. I grew uncomfortable.
"You're really hurting me man. I can't believe you're not gonna give me ten."
"You get five. Take it or don't." You aggressive bastard.
Finally, he sighed and took it before riding off in the sunset. I was pissed. I just don't know why something has to always be expected, you know? Why do nice things always have to have a catch? There's probably a lesson in there somewhere. Good one, Jesus.
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