Fiction and Poetry for the Avid Reader
Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Extreme Poetry
Regina the Campus Cat: A Short Story
Everyone at Blakefield University knew Regina the Campus Cat. Black cats were no longer a dime dozen to the folks on Terra 24, the third planet orbiting a sun much like ours. But like Dewey the library cat, known well on this here planet Earth, famous to a small town library in Spencer, Iowa; Regina was well known, and cherished by the students and faculty.
Tuna in water and never oil nor with mayonnaise was a time honored give-away treat the Beloved three year old cat received on almost daily occasion. She especially adored when she was the recipient of canned tuna not drained of water, which provided the feline with more hydration in the hot spring and summer months.
But unbeknownst to Regina, and every student on campus, a Male pixie music duo Sung-hyun meaning complete and worthy and his brother Chin-Hwa meaning the most prosperous and wealthiest of all, two miniature beings who for some reason looked like chibis’s from Japanese anime, decided to go on a quest to find fame and fortune. They knew finding magic good luck black cats was almost impossible on Terra 24, but were and are rife on this Earth, and luckily for them only a few light years away and living on the campus of a random HBCU.
Hoping that giving tuna to the wonderful being would suffice as gift in honor to receive luck, fortune, and stardom; the two transported themselves from various Planets like their own jumping through time and space, until they finally reached their destination: Blakefield University.
“Sung-hyun, do you think we selected the right location this time?” asked Chin-Hwa, as he looked around in awe at the quaint campus.
“Of course, my trajectory was spot on this time, for sure,” Sung-hyun replied.
As the chibi pixies began their exploration of the campus in search of the never elusive Regina, a small gray kitten was seen mewing from under a bush. Chin-Hwa, the bolder of the duo, with his huge almond shaped eyes, round little ears, big bobble head and great sense of direction, put his little hand out in beckoning.
The young feline, recognizing a sense of acceptance, awareness, and safety slowly approached the tiny pixie. Just as the kitten was about to sniff the offered hand, Chin-Hwa’s brother, Sung-hyun spotted another older white, feline, baring his claws in a can of tuna he was slowly dragging from some distance away.
Sung-hyun, with his bobble-head, button nose, pouty lips and tinier almond shaped eyes, caught grasp of the situation immediately, and ran over to help the larger cat finish dragging the canned food to the gray kitten. The cat, relieved and happy for the assistance thought, “Thank you, young one, for helping me and my own young one,” to Sung-hyun.
Both Chin-Hwa and Sung-hyun watched the pair of cats, the younger eating until almost his fill, leaving a good portion of canned tuna remaining. The kitten yawned and crawled back under the bush that the two chibi pixies had found him.
“Well, I mean that was cute and all, but I thought you said there would be a black cat, Sung-hyun,” said Chin-Hwa, a tad bit perturbed.
“Well, maybe this cat can tell us if he knows of the supposedly famous good luck black cat that is usually seen in these parts of the this well large, complex quad.” answered Sung-hyun.
Overhearing the two chibis talk among themselves, the white cat cocked his head to the side, and thought to the pair, “Are you looking for my mate, Regina?” he asked.
Excitedly, Chin-Hwa, looked in the cats direction and thought, “Is your mate a black luck cat?”
“Yes, and we live here on the campus. She is pregnant under that bush over there. We were so happy to have one we wanted another soon.”
“Oh, my goodness, what luck ,Chin-Hwa,” said Sung-hyun. We really might get to help even further now.”
“What do you mean dude?” asked Chin-Hwa.
“My contact here said the cat lives on campus. He didn’t say she was pregnant or had a family. but he looks for homes for strays. The campus has been wanting her to move in with a family of people.”
“Family, my feline spouse and I have family already, here on campus.” thought the older white cat, confused.
Sung-hyun bowed his head and asked graciously,”We have come to ask for your spouse’s luck for good fortune. On our planet, cats, especially black ones have always been revered. But in recent times have become almost completely extinct. We, my brother and I here, come from wealth and privilege; but we both have well appearances unlike others of our kind due to a genetic defect. We have always been judged unjustly due to our conditions. We are twin brothers in life and difference but still want for fame and stardom. Please let her bestow upon us her luck granting even us happiness and our dream of being great performers in music, singing, and dance.
If we are helped, we will help you find a new way of living, safe and privileged as well. A student and his family feeds you all quite often. He didn’t know your spouse was pregnant, but he has wanted your spouse to be his cat since he started here a few years ago.”
“She has never before been asked for luck from such noble beings as yourselves. Is there really a being who likes us enough to accept our entire family in?” wondered the older, white feline.
“Sung-hyun, even if you ask this of the student’s family, he thought it was only three cats though, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but he is very generous. he wants us to receive help as much as them.” said Sung-hyun. “I’ll contact him, now. One moment.”
Sung-hyun, reached in his small satchel, retrieved his communication device and typed out a short message, explaining the newly investigated situation, and hoping he wasn’t asking the student and his family of too much.
Upon sending the message, he received a hasty response, saying, “Yay for the Campus Cat! Soon-to-be house cat!”
Both pixies gasped in delight. Upon hearing all the commotion, Regina herself emerged from the foliage. She yawned and stretched, scratched at her hindquarters and blearily looked upon the chibi pixies. “What is going on? Why are two such cute beings here?”
“They have found us a home, and just ask for your wish granting ability my loved one,” thought the white, male cat to the beautiful, sleek black very pregnant, female feline.
“A home, but we have one, right here on campus. Everyone loves us,” she thought confusededly.
“Yes, but one of our normal benefactors wants to help us knowing we have even more new ones coming along.” he thought.
Suddenly the pixies and cats hear footsteps slowly approaching, a young multi-racial man, who appeared early twenties and two older Caucasian appearing people, on male, one female, coming strolling up.
“Welcome to your new family, with even more of your own,” said the young man.
“Sung-hyun, they are really going to take them in?” asked Chin Hwa.
“Yep, that young man loves the cats, his family only have him.” said Sung hyun.
“Thank you gracioulsy, I grant thee luck, small kind beings.” Regina said rubbing her face against both pixies and then ran off to jump into the awaiting arms of the young man.
Her white male spouse was picked up by the young student’s father, and the kitten retrieved by his mother.
“Gook luck to you too Regina!” yelled Chin-Hwa.
“Thank you, Regina!” hollered Sung-hyun.
And thus, Regina, saved by a set of chibi pixies, a student, his family and the trust of her spouse and young one, would no longer just be the campus cat.
What is Love?
I once thought love was all consuming. I felt that tug in my very loins many times. I felt that string of fate tying me to so many things.
But soon there was a tug of war. Fighting the love was an all-consuming fear of loneliness. Love and loneliness were inexplicably pounding against one another until they both became entangled.
The two strings twined, and one could not be discerned from the other. I no longer want to love anyone, anything. I want the loneliness gone.
With the love finally the loneliness also left. The strings that had been holding, knotting together emotions and feelings no longer controlled me. They no longer held me in their clutches, their thrall.
At first there was anger and frustration, but soon that too vanished, vanquished by the petty thoughts of bitterness and pain.
But I will not let any of the ugly feelings take over. I choose to be alone. I need space. I need time to reflect. I need to take care that the love and loneliness do not return until I am ready.
Ready to fight the struggle the two emotions warring within me. A war that has no pull on me anymore. I choose to be alone. I choose to be alone. I choose to be alone.
No matter how many times I write it. Think it. Ponder on it. It is now the passion and pleasure I desire.
Depression and Cruelty
I have lived a life where cruelty ruled me
I have been so depressed, it caused myself cruelty
I did a horrible deed to end the sadness
I did an awful thing to others to finally be me
I am truth and reason
I am justice with no fears
I am, have, and did the best outcome for me
Love, Lust, Passion
He is the love
He is the lust
He is the passion
My infatuation for him is true
My obsession for him is unbelievable
My adoration for him is phenomenal
He is the love
He is the lust
He is the passion
My feelings for him burns to the core
My touch for him is alluring
My kiss for him is open and wet
He is the love
He is the lust
He is the passion
My body aches for him
My soul calls for him
My spirit wishes for reincarnation,
For him and I together forever
He is the love
He is the lust
He is the passion
Where the Myth Starts (Novel Teaser; Very Loosely based on real events/true story; Names and places have been changed for privacy except mine)
What the Past Brings - September 2008
There they were again. Them, the frights. The young woman who sat on the four poster bed holding her head in her hands, weeping softly, hated the frights, those snide little voices. She had been hearing them on and off again for months now.
“Hey Deborah, why don’t you come visit us?”
“Yeah we’ve been waiting for you to come.”
“Why haven’t you come yet?
“We’re your only friends.”
“Yes, nobody else can tolerate you like we can.”
“You have to join us, or else!”
Or else what? Why wouldn’t they stop, what had she done to deserve this? The voices had become more frightening and threatening the longer they resided in her.
For years it was always just Deborah and her mother, but after she met that boy Liam at grad school and hung out with him and his friends, things changed. She was never alone after that, at least not in her head.
Although everyone thought she was crazy, she just knew there had to be some connection to that first night out with Liam and company to her newly diagnosed mental condition. Hell, she still wasn’t ruling out her drinks being laced with drugs.
“Deborah, what are you doing in there?”
Sniffling and red-eyed, Deborah sucked in a deep breath to calm her sobbing and thought, Oh, god, not this again. “Mom, I’m fine, just talking to the voices in my head,” she said not so sarcastically.
“Deborah, just open the door please. I want to help. If you would go to church with me, and accept--”
“Mom, when I want to talk about your Jesus Christ and pray, I’ll come talk to you.”
“Why do you have to be that way? I just want you to get better. Maybe if you believed--”
“GO AWAY,” Deborah screamed, violently tore a book off her nightstand and threw it at the door, immediately after, staring down at her hand in mortification. She adored her books like a favorite pet and hated upsetting her mother.
The statuesque older woman stood outside her daughter’s door, and she could hear sniffling and clearing of the throat. Resting her head against the door, she sighed and attempted to begin talking again, but she realized her daughter wasn’t in the mood for listening and finally went away.
Being horrible to her mother was not something Deborah liked to do, but Claudia would never understand. Hell, her mom still thought schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder; or rather as they call it now, some sort of dissociative disorder, were the same damn thing.
Trying to block out the background noise of her hallucinations, she focused on her favorite mode of distraction from the frights. Placing her earbuds in her ears she switched on her mp3 player and listened to a Korean song titled, She Is, by the group Clazziquai Project. From what the doctor’s said, it was useless to ignore the voices, just accept that she had an illness and work on coping with the issue.
Music made it easy. Sometimes at night before bed, if she listened to music right before she began to drift to sleep, it was almost as if she instead had her own personal radio in her head. And how else was she to learn and live with them since every doctor she had seen all thought she was a hopeless case.
Well, she thought, there was only one thing left to do. She pulled out her laptop and once again began pouring out her heart in a fantasy diary. The whole bedroom, with its frills and puke pink colored decor faded away as she wrote in the journal. She wrote about them, and no not the voices, but the characters she had created as a child.
She had a story for each character. They all had distinctive personalities, and it was strange because lately she had begun to wonder if her characters were real. She would be in a coffee shop and catch a glimpse of blond and violet. Or be at the grocery store, and for one second, see the girl with fiery red hair and wine red eyes as the cashier a few lanes over, only to squint her eyes in concentration and realize those haunting wine red irises were really dark brown, and the cashier couldn’t possibly be the girl from all her nightmares about abduction. It would be so mind bogglingly terrifying yet amazing if they came to life, but that was just another one of her many fantasies.
Deborah’s entire life had been about nothing but writing and more writing with some reading in between. She found the way people learned and adapted to the written word as fascinating as she found her faded memories of watching old science fiction shows like the Twilight Zone with her father during one of her few visits to his house as a child. Maybe someday she’d become a writer, it was her dream, she was even going to school for it before the appearance of the frights forced her to take a leave of absence.
One thing she vowed was that if she ever went back to school, she would finish her Masters of Fine Arts, and use the skills she attained to provide a positive impact on society.
“Why aren’t you listening you little whore?”
Goodness, they were becoming awful again. The voices had been getting worse since she realized they were just a figment of her imagination. Having once thought the life of a telepath was in her future, she finally realized just how dumb that idea was.
“Go away my not-so-cute Elmo puppet.” Yes, weird name for a hallucination, but this particular voice used to be called her cute Elmo puppet, as she imagined a sweet, childish little timber to the lilt of its tone. But like the other three that were still sticking around, it was just an evil little whispering voice echoing in the back of her mind.
“But don’t you want us to visit?”
“You don’t want the others to come do you?”
“Yeah, the others are worse than us; they’ll abduct and kill you.”
Muffled laughter came from the last voice as it said, “Yeah maybe even try to eat you.”
By this time, they practically had Deborah in tears. Frightened not just by the voices, but by the thought that what they said may be true. She had been feeling as if she were being watched everywhere she went, and it did not feel like the paranoia her schizophrenia could cause.
Those lovely characters she had been wishing were real seemed to be watching her during the most uncomfortable times. She even thought she saw him, the one that hated her. His name was Solon. He scared her because he always made her think of murder and cannibalism.
In Deborah’s fantasy he was always something of a villain. He wanted to devour her and he didn’t care that his people had given up eating other less advanced races for their life energy generations ago. She would love for most of her characters to be real, he was the exception. Maybe they would come, and she could—well, she didn’t know what she would do.
In her fantasy he was once, one of her many make believe friends—at least grudgingly on his part. Deborah always wanted kind, loving siblings, but would even settle for older, kinder best friends. Unfortunately her siblings resented her and hated their mother. Their parents having divorced right after Deborah was born, her two older siblings decided to live with their father. He died a few years ago, and her sister and brother still visited every now and then, but it was apparent they despised these pity visitations.
So imagining that Serelians, what her make believe friends from the planet Serelia were called, could somehow appear before her in her time of need was a captivating consideration. After their less than appealing stint with devouring those less fortunates, they became a peaceful people who traveled the galaxy as they wished and possessed great extrasensory perception. And Solon, the he mentioned earlier, just happened to be one of the exceptions to his race of people. He was not cruel, at least not all of the time, just very taciturn and stoic. Oh, who was she kidding, Deborah thought, if he were real, he could scare small children and cute animals, he was insane.
Although, as she laid upon her stomach, adding a new entry to her diary, she wondered how exhilarating it would be if the Serelians were real just so she wouldn’t be alone anymore.
“Deborah, it’s time for dinner!”
Going downstairs, she briefly considered pretending to have the eating disorder her doctors claimed she must have to have lost so much weight while away at college, but then thought better of it. Pretending to be anorexic was insulting to anyone who truly struggled with the illness. She certainly would not want someone to act as if they had schizophrenia to get out of facing someone. And shit if she was not just going down to have dinner with her mother, a person who at least cared about her even if neither could ever truly understand each other now that they had the frights driving a rift between them.
“Coming, Mom.” And with that response, she drifted the final steps to the dining area with the thought that as delusional or childish it may seem, she would welcome anyone to the world in her head, especially if they could keep twisted hallucinations out: even cannibalistic villains.
Fantasy Diary Entry One – 12/26/1999
Characters
Me: Deborah
Close Friends: Solon, twins Johnatan and Micah, and Gavin
Their Father: Tomlin
Their Eldest Uncle: Erik
Eldest Uncle’s Sons: Eric, Octavian, and Cedar
Their other Uncle: Donavere
Uncle’s Sons: Auranon, twins Gossamer and Taisman
Their Admirers So-called Friends: Gavin’s cousin Glynis, sisters Raina (younger) and Viviana (1 year older), Caryn, and Misty (a psychic white tiger that becomes Deborah’s shapesifting familiar)
“Hey, what’s up?”
I looked up, only to meet the eyes of a very handsome young man with blonde hair and what appeared to be blue, no violet eyes. Who on earth has violet eyes? I was going to ignore him, but really who has eyes any shade of purple?
“They have to be contacts,” I mumbled aloud, only to slap my hand over my mouth with a yelp of pain. Yep, way to impress. Say something stupid out loud and then hurt self by slapping.
“How much of a moron can I be?” I murmured. Fuck, out loud again.
“Uh, what was that?” he asked.
“Um…” I drifted off hoping that he’d go away, and I could then get over my embarrassment.
“Uh, I’m new to the city, but I’ve noticed you in this bookstore quite a few times. My name’s Gavin. What’s yours?” the boy now identified as Gavin, held out his hand.
Damn, and here I thought I would scare him away with my clumsy attempts at socialization. I did nothing but stare at his hand.
“Um, should I just go away?” he asked.
“No, no, sorry. No one’s ever come up and said anything to me since I’ve been coming here the last few months.” That’s good Deborah, breathe, breathe. The cute guy wasn’t going anywhere. You can’t escape, just shake his hand and hope for the best.
“This is the way to greet people around here, right? Cause you’re kind of leaving my hand hanging here.”
“Oh god, I mean, I apologize.” I stood up and finally grabbed his hand, which by the way, was very soft and smooth. I wished I could hold his hand forever.
“It’s nice to meet you, and no I’m not wearing contacts to answer your question from earlier.”
“Uh, one that is totally irrelevant, cause that was so not a question, it was a statement, and two, what do you want? I’ve seen you too. You always come in with that huge group of guys who are by the way heading over here as we speak.”
“Darn, I told them I would initiate first contact,” he said.
His friends headed over, and it was like an entire group of popular jocks or elite rich boys decided to share the same atmosphere with me. I was starting to become very flustered. It’s times like these that I’m even happier than usual that I’m African American and just the right shade of brown that you can’t tell when I blush.
“So Gavin, how’s it going over here? From where we were sitting it seemed as if you are getting absolutely nowhere with the pretty girl. Whose name by the way is what?” said a boy with dark brown hair and gold eyes.
“Okay, really, what’s up with you guys and the contacts? And no, I don’t care what you said Gavin, purple eyes are not normal. And mister over here has golden eyes, while that guy right there has eyes that seem to keep shifting in color. Seriously what is wrong with you guys? And what could you possibly want with me?”
Oh, god, there I go. Ruin the perfect chance to make friends. This was definitely why people say I’m anti-social.
“Way to be rude, girlie. And my name is not mister, it’s Johnatan. And we still have yet to find out your name.”
“I don’t really think I need to give you my name. And to what do I owe the honor of your presence?” I asked.
“Well, as my brother Gavin failed to mention, we are here on a very important mission that has absolutely nothing to do with picking up cute nerdy girls at bookstores.”
“Look just tell me what you need from me. The last time someone spoke to me here, it was a racist slur.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. My brothers, cousins, and I just want to talk to you for a while. You are a bit of a celebrity where we come from.”
“Johnatan, we are supposed to be easing her into the idea of her coming—“
“Gavin, shut up,” said by what appeared to be the eldest teen. His appearance just as worrying as the others with his silver, yes silver hair and extraordinarily bright green eyes that seemed liked emerald fire. He had an awful frown, and looked very annoyed by the whole situation.
“I can’t believe such a motley crew of weirdoes is stalking me. And here I thought I was being paranoid. I just knew you guys were looking over here repeatedly during your little visits to the bookstore.”
“We’re so sorry, we mean you no harm,” said a cute young boy with silver hair, silver eyes and a pout that could put a sad puppy to shame.
“Oh, you are so adorable,” I squealed.
While his coloring was just as alarming as the others, he looked to be trying to appeal to my sweet side.
“You actually think I’m cute,” he asked. He actually opened his eyes even wider if that’s possible.
“Well, I don’t see why you’re so amazed. I have no prejudice against people of different nationalities or races, and while your coloring is a tad bit different, all of you are good looking in some way.”
“Wow, Johnatan she actually finds us good looking. Could you also tell what gender I am? My name is Gossamer, so it can be a bit deceiving. And the brat you just called adorable is my younger twin brother Taisman.”
“Um, if I have to surmise, I’d say you’re a boy. You have an odd name, but you are a boy none the less, and quite a looker too. You’d make a very pretty girl, and those clothes you have on definitely lead to the assumption that you are indeed an androgynous fellow.”
“So basically I could go either way, nice way of putting it.”
“Uh, sorry, I sometimes, oh, hell who am I kidding, I always say too much. I don’t mean to be blunt, but it still happens anyway. And since I know you guys are going to ask again, I’m Deborah.”
“What a pretty name,” said Gavin.
“Oh, thanks, I guess.”
“Great, I’m Solon, now how about we nix the rest of the introductions and get straight to point,” said perpetually angry boy, as I have already dubbed him.
“Go on,” I said, “I’ll be a good girl and not interrupt.”
I stood there is front of them trying to convey an aura of meekness. I don’t think it worked too well though because most of them were muffling laughter, smiling or just appeared to be downright amused.
The one named Solon continued to glare at me, and I just couldn’t keep up the façade of being meek any longer. There was something vaguely dangerous about him. The bookstore seemed to shift, then tilt as my vision blurred, and I slowly started to lose consciousness.
I just wish I had known everything, but no instead, it happened after my first meeting with those ten boys whom some I had yet to even learn the names of. I would have ran as far and as fast as I could. And no, that is not very far or fast considering the ten pounds puberty had just decided to add to my poor little frame. I was definitely in for an adventure that just happened to not be too far beyond my imagination considering I’m a bit of a sci-fi geek.
History Making – Present
“We could make history together,” he mumbled.
“What the hell, Gavin?” asked Johnatan from behind.
Gavin looked up from the control panel of his soon-to-be first technically second ship. He wouldn’t be captain of course, but the shiny gadgets and buttons under the bright lights of the control room were overwhelming.
“Just thinking of a song Deborah used to sing a lot. Some old show tune from an animated series from the 21st century,” he answered.
“Dammit, just how obvious could your infatuation with that woman be?” Johnatan said, “I’m amazed the fact that she had some weird Virgin Mary shit happen when she gave birth to that baby that looks more like a cross between you and our brother Solon, that spawn from the horrible hag has yet to end your unrequited lust,” he said
Gavin, who had been barely paying attention, gaze now fixed on his brother, said, “Shut your mouth about Deborah and Galen,” he said, “we haven’t seen either of them in more than ten years.”
“Yes, and that could mean she could be anywhere, and she doesn’t want to be found, or she would have tried to contact us by now,” Johnatan retorted as he moved over to sit at the captain’s chair, trying to understand how to adjust the helm to his own modifications.
“Don’t speak poorly of Deborah and her son,” Gavin practically growled. “And shouldn’t you get up? Solon would kill you if he knew you were changing his settings,” said Gavin.
“You know I live to torture all my siblings and cousins,” Johnatan said with a smirk, “I just can’t wait to see his outrage when he has to change everything back.”
“Whatever, I’m not getting involved with your feud with Solon. You and Micah need to learn to live with the fact that due to Solon’s power he is the next Savior now that we can’t find them,” said Gavin.
“And it all comes right back to that slut, huh?” asked Johnatan, “I still don’t know which of you she screwed or if she mixed you and Solon’s DNA to artificially inseminate herself.”
“By the Goddess, why do I even talk to you?” Gavin said with exasperation and disgust.
“Because you love your big bro,” said Johnatan, “Now we better get out of this control room before Solon gets here. Your precious Deborah was the only one who could get him to calm down when he drives himself crazy with frustration.
“Whatever,” said Gavin, as he turned to leave the control room, making sure he went in the opposite direction of Johnatan.
Where the Myth Starts - Time Unknown
“So do you want to know where it all began?”
“Shouldn’t you say that at the actual beginning of a story?” the rude little crumb snatcher said.
A woman, who appeared to be anywhere between 25 and 35 years old and a young boy with silver hair and purple eyes, sat on the crumbling steps of the woman’s childhood home. They were surrounded by dilapidated houses and wild greenery that had taken over the once beautiful neighborhood. Magnificent shrubs, trees, and flowers adorned the rickety skeleton houses. In the remains of a city like any other. Or was it? She grew up there, so it obviously wasn’t a normal town.
Her long fluffy hair twisted up in intricate swirls and patterns along with her caramel skin contrasted greatly with the small child’s pale skin and hair whom sat at her feet, not willing to listen to a story that is both heartbreaking and cathartic.
“Look here you little ragamuffin, how many times am I going to tell you to have more respect for your elders,” she sneered halfheartedly trying not to laugh at the scowling youngster.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said, “It’s just that you have told me this story so many times, and you never actually start from the beginning.”
“Yes, but you have yet to learn anything from it, if this wretched ruin is the remains of my childhood home. And so what if I don’t want to tell the tale linearly, that just makes life boring.”
“But—
“No buts, and don’t even think of laughing at that,” she replied with a scowl of her own, much better and sincere than her son’s.
“I apologize Mommy,” the boy said.
“That’s more like the little ragamuffin I remember,” she says, smiling wistfully, “Galen, you are definitely a good child at heart, I just don’t know why you have to be so petulant sometimes.” He just stared at her in response.
“Okay, well if your powers continue developing, you may become stronger than both your father and I. I just wish you wouldn’t lose control so often. This neighborhood actually used to be livable, now it’s pretty, but dangerous.”
As she said this a thorny vine curled around her ankle, which she smacked with her hands, and bristled at the pain. Galen saw her discomfort and grabbed her hand. Glowing green light surrounded their joined hands and her pain subsided. The vine, feeling unwanted, scurried back into the depths of the forestry.
“For goodness sake, a living, moving forest. Even animals can’t survive in here Galen. First sinking our last home in the oceans, and causing an uproar because of walking fish, now this,” she says, shaking her head.
“I know, isn’t it amazing!” Galen exclaimed.
“No, it is not. Anyway you and your plant friends are not going to prevent me from telling this story, I’m recording this memory into the ship’s database,” she said as she patted her pocket where the small device connected to a huge network far elsewhere, possibly another dimension or universe, possibly just across town hidden in a very different woods. A woods not as vindictive as her Galen’s creation.
”So as you know it all started quite some time ago. Over 100 years now.”
“Before your illness Mommy,” Galen pointed out.
“Yes, but who is telling this story, you or me?” she asks. He just growls deeply, like the small animal his mother always claimed him to be.
“Yes, before the illness,” she whispered, “before you, before a lot of things.”Stories and Extreme Poems
Poems
What is Love?
I once thought love was all consuming. I felt that tug in my very loins many times. I felt that string of fate tying me to so many things.
But soon there was a tug of war. Fighting the love was an all-consuming fear of loneliness. Love and loneliness were inexplicably pounding against one another until they both became entangled.
The two strings twined, and one could not be discerned from the other. I no longer want to love anyone, anything. I want the loneliness gone.
With the love finally the loneliness also left. The strings that had been holding, knotting together emotions and feelings no longer controlled me. They no longer held me in their clutches, their thrall.
At first there was anger and frustration, but soon that too vanished, vanquished by the petty thoughts of bitterness and pain.
But I will not let any of the ugly feelings take over. I choose to be alone. I need space. I need time to reflect. I need to take care that the love and loneliness do not return until I am ready.
Ready to fight the struggle the two emotions warring within me. A war that has no pull on me anymore. I choose to be alone. I choose to be alone. I choose to be alone.
No matter how many times I write it. Think it. Ponder on it. It is now the passion and pleasure I desire.
Fire’s Fury Chapter 1: Scene 1 (Novel Teaser)
Aidan sat on the bench at Thirtieth and Erdrich, observing the young man. Hoping with morbid pleasure that his new prey was as poor as he looked, he counted in his head the number of people he had eliminated to get where he was today. This day, today, this oh so momentous occasion: the anniversary of his parents’ death.
The others had been accidents, mistakes. He couldn’t help it if he liked to play with fire. Its delightful aroma, its fragrance as it melted away at the flesh of some unsuspecting bystander. Aidan had murdered about ten strangers and three not-so-strangers since the death of his family when he was seven.
Fire, his parents had died in a fire. Everything always began and ended in fire. Didn’t the bible even mention something about the next apocalypse dealing with fire? Aidan did not know nor did he care, for all he could think about was how he would use his fire, his fury to destroy. Destroying anything and anyone he pleased, at least within reason that is.
Continuing to watch the young man, Aidan smirked, his next course of action plotted out in his mind. His prey had on long brown corduroys, ripped at the knees, with scraggly seams dragging at the curb around his sandaled feet. His curly reddish brown hair, greasy and unwashed tangling with the broken black sunglasses that adorned his head and his black shirt so faded it appeared gray; made his silent observer snort in derision.
The young man had dark brownish smudges on his cheeks and hands, and Aidan contemplated these streaks of dirt with interest. Standing and stretching, he ambled closer toward the young stranger. He walked up so close to him he could almost reach out and touch him, making the young man who had been starring blankly into the distant lurch back abruptly.
“Di-did you need something?” he asked, his irises widening in frightened resignation.
Aidan didn’t answer him immediately; instead he reached out and yanked the young man around to face him fully, and turned down his chin, looking him directly in the eyes. “Heh, you have brown eyes, how freakishly normal,” he remarked.
“What?” spluttered the young man incomprehensively.
Aidan just continued to gaze into the young man eyes, and then suddenly let him go. “I’ll give you five minutes head start. You better run fast, cause I have feeling I can run faster," he said with a chuckle.
“What?” asked the young man again.
“I said, you better run, cause I plan to kill you, with absolutely no mercy,’” said Aidan, his eyes hardening.
“Huh?” the young man mumbled as he looked every which way. Thinking Aidan was only joking, probably another one of those perverts that preyed upon harmless young tramps. He glanced around once again making sure no one was around. He walked over to the large mossy tree stump behind the bench and flicked his eyelashes down at Aidan before he began undoing his pants.
Aidan watched with interest. Knowing exactly what the young man thought of him. The ignorant vagrant actually believed Aidan was threatening him in order to have sex with him. Fuck him indeed. Turning away for a moment, Aidan smiled gleefully up to the sky. Oh, today was going to be his first and greatest hunt ever. Maybe he could see this as an initiation of sorts.
“Yo, don’t just undo your pants, take them off,” said Aidan. “I want to see the merchandise before I make my purchase.”
Waving a few bills in the air, he caught the young man’s attention. Bills which he leisurely produced from his wallet, knowing how tantalizing they would to the young man who thought he was actually going to get paid for his services.
“Okay, b-but I don’t do anything weird, just sex, then the cash, okay,” he said with emphasis, his eyes glistening as he focused on the large bills in Aidan’s hands.
Aidan had picked Thirtieth and Erdrich, knowing it was a secluded little place that not many people passed by. Only those such as this tramp would ever frequent such spots. Even the buses bypassed said location, fearing the dangers that lurked in the shadows on this seedy corner. Boarded windows decorating the garish houses that remained along the opposite side of the street from which the two young men were. A forest of trees lay behind them, with a dirt path leading into the depths of the shady Garrison Park.
Fixing his eyes upon some point in the distant woods, Aidan focused in on the young man just as he ran toward him trying to knock him over. His eyes flashed reddish-orange, as he used his chest to bump the young man to the ground. Aidan eyed him, taking in the fact that he had on no pants his sandals and faded shirt thrown on the tree stump. Dressed only in ripped, filthy grayish-white boxer briefs, the young man’s bruised body shivered on the ground at his feet.
“Run, motherfucker, cause your time’s up now,” said Aidan maliciously. In his left hand, he held a silver lighter, with the initials A.K.S. engraved into the case. His right hand itching and glowing caught his attention, and he looked down as the young man spun around running into the forest.
“What the fuck?” murmured Aidan. “What the hell is wrong with my hand?” He shook his hand and it stopped glowing, but the itching did not stop. Looking up, he realized his prey had already run for the woods.
He glanced at the tree stump, noticing that the young man had left his clothes behind. “Oh yes, he’ll be bloody and in tatters by the time I get to him,” said Aidan, thinking aloud with a crazed gleam in his eyes. “Now I get to see what a bleeding body looks like as the fire melts the flesh away from the bones, the red blood leaking from his joints mingling with the reddish orange flames.”
Aidan ran into the woods. After running a few hundred paces, he heard thrashing ahead and knew his prey wasn’t far away. Anticipating his new thirst for blood being sated at last, Aidan slowed his pace. In a clearing up ahead, he spied the young man nursing his twisted ankle. One of his black-bottomed feet was turned at an unusual angle. He stayed back for a few moments, watching the young man drag himself along the path in the clearing, tears running down his cheeks as his lips moved in silent prayer. Aidan smiled, his cheeks heating up slightly, and his right hand once again glowing, brighter this time.
“So, you only broke your ankle,” said Aidan as he walked into the clearing, making himself known. “I was hoping for something a bit more severe. I should have let you drag yourself around some more, but I can’t wait any longer.”
“Why?” questioned the young tramp. His eyes bulging, as he looked up at Aidan, he tried to move back further. Hissing in pain, the young man bent over and gripped his ankle, screaming out in pain.
Alarmed Aidan charged forth, and kicked the young man to the ground. Flat on his back, with the wind knocked out of him, the young man huffed out heavy puffs, trying to take in fresh air. Aidan flicked the cap of his lighter, his foot on the young man’s chest. Noticing his right hand was glowing he licked his right index finger, feeling the extreme heat radiating from his fingertips. Intrigued, he touched the small flame from his lighter to his finger setting his finger on fire and smiling in happiness when he felt no pain.
The young man watched in horror as Aidan’s hand went up in flames, the fire flowing up his wrist and finally encompassing his entire arm, burning the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Interesting, I don’t feel a thing, heh, my entire arm is on fire,” said Aidan gleefully. “I guess it’s your turn now, bitch.”
The young man began squirming in earnest, as Aidan removed his booted foot from his chest. He touched he boy’s ankle first, lighting the injured foot on fire. The young man began howling in agony as Aidan watched the flames move up his leg, singeing and melting the skin. His irises taking on a reddish orange color that almost matched his hair, almost matched the flames.
Snapping out of his fire-induced hypnosis, Aidan’s used his fiery arm and grabbed the young man’s face, setting it on fire, as he had tired of his consistent screams. Moving back, Aidan smiled broadly as his prey burned. The fire consumed the young man’s entire form, his ragged briefs catching flames and burning long before the flesh beneath the thin material. Standing back, Aidan eyed his handy work. Still smiling broadly, he moved back watching the fire as it spread along the ground and began burning foliage and then trees.
His arm the only thing on fire, Aidan’s stood fascinated by his new power, as his eyes returned to an amber brown. He thought of cool things, ice, water, ice water, Mount Everest, Antarctica, and his arm suddenly went out.
“Hah, it worked,” said Aidan. “I’ve read about stuff like this. People controlling fire. Heh, what luck, now I can use my mind to kill people. I can use my very thoughts to destroy things, people, anything others love and cherish; I can eliminate. This is gonna be fun.”
Smirking he walked out of the fiery woods. The flames licked at the trees, bushes, and dirt. Birds flocked from the trees, and small rodents escaped for the streets, as Aidan calmly walked down the street, impervious to the flames rising from Garrison Park.
Cry Out
(Dedicated to Octavia E. Butler)
Cry out for the poetess.
Her writing lives on after death.
Powerful images of black struggle.
Fantasy interwoven in her text.
Cry out for the mistress of intricate patterns.
Her books delving in topics of race and heartache.
Passionate and fluid, her every word.
Science fiction was never done so well.
Cry out for the Negro woman.
Her origin and technique that flowed to very depth of the soul.
Textual references to biblical foes.
Horror and angst ripping at the edges of every page.
Cry out, cry out, cry out, cry out!
Where her intellect could have delivered us, we shall never know.
The Lies we live
The lies we live
Pain bottled up in our every movement
Decades of sorrow blowing through the wind
Hatred has become our only friend
Nothing to give, nothing to lose
We move along like robots, wallowing in our sin
Heartache and survival live within
We love each other once,
Now the lust is all that's left.
The mottled skin of our past, a burden, a whim
Goodbye, to all that once was
No longer, shall we live with pain
Our lives go on, and the days of our suffering shall finally end
Smiles
Sitting down to tea
two dolls and a rocking chair
too big to sit at the table
she has blush on her cheeks
yarn in her hair
scars, scars, scars
from playing mother
crouched down on the floor
the table's much too small
the playing is done
yet her reality is finally here
pouring tea for them all
she sits there and smiles
For her days of childhood are now endless
Corruption of innocence
Darkness, shadows, evil lurking about;
Corruption of lawyers masking sins of
rape, destruction of our future's children.
Committed for crimes of lust by the devil.
Unjust laws keeping the victims in fear
as shadows of evil lurking about.
Pain and lies marking the innocents, while
Leering pedophiles hiding in bushes
Cause destruction of our future's children.
Living in sin and lacking of remorse
Corpses of the victims, waiting for
the shadows of evil lurking about.
Parents worried for the hearts of children
whose sadistic crimes are ripe with bloodshed.
Rape's destruction of our future's Children.
Sorrow once caused, lives on in memories.
Monsters have pillaged their virginity.
Shadows of evil are lurking about,
and destruction has come for our children.
Fire's Desire
Fire, fire, burning bright
Flames of yellow, oh so light
Desire and seduction seem so right
Pleasure expended in every way
Your body aching for him to stay
Allowing him to say,
How much he needs you everyday.
Fire, Fire, burning bright
Passions ignited and love is in sight
Forevermore the orange yellow bursts,
Creates the light that forms your ultimate delight.
Yet even with the heat of his caress,
Flaming hot with a lover's might.
You scream his name and he releases,
Without either of you having to put up a fight
The fire's desire plunges you both into a good night.
Memories
Grandma's love and graham cracker crumbs
My mother's cinnamon and apple pie
Dad driving the family to Disney World
A sister's whine about having more space
My brother pinching my cheeks and annoying me
Even, in the many years to come,
I will never forget,
The memories of family, love, and fond dreams.
Contemplation
In the chill of fall,
I sit on a park bench-
Thinking of his curls.
I am too shy.
I like him. Does he like me?
I can never tell.
Remnants of a Strong Black Woman
A house filled with memories
An artist's longing to bring joy
Trash strewn all about and papers everywhere
Yet she lies there in her own mess,
Wallowing in her pain.
She used to be a strong black woman,
But look at all that she became.
20 Years Down the Road
My brother and sister torment me as I watch in silence.
I learned to use my teeth to exact revenge.
I began to read books on my own.
My mother would ask me for a bedtime story.
Nothing significant, just the hazel eyes and high yella skin of my first crush.
While holding hands may not get you pregnant, trouble always comes along with the
saying, “You can touch mine, if you let me touch yours.”
My mother substitutes for my class, “Embarrassed is thy name.”
It must have been my lucky year, for on Valentine's two boys had crushes on me.
First boy to ever proposition me for sex, and I don't think even he knew what it was
considering the fact that he wanted to trade sex for homework.
One of my best friends got her period, and I followed by six months.
Most popular girl among the boys, most hated person among the girls.
“White girl, white girl,” the others teased, as I listened, walked, and read as I pleased.
Last year of middle school and so many changes to occur: uniforms, period, status, and boys. High school here we come, fresh meat with no friends and no fun.
Joined the geek squad, but at least I now had anime, snacks, and friends.
No sweet sixteen for me, my mother was ill and someone had to watch over her.
“Hit the Road Jack,” and I wish I didn't have to come back no more.
Legal by law, yet freedom is still so far away.
Getting closer, gaining weight; I wish I knew then what I know now but it is much too late. “Here I go, here I go, here I go.” I look forward to the next year and hope for a miracle so that they will finally let go.
Fairytales and Milk Chocolate Dreams
Folklore and Fairytales have the most radiant and beautiful imagery,
But milk chocolate dreams are the toffee and caramel fantasy
That leaves you begging for more.
Folklore is a myth taken from truths long forgotten,
Fairytales are the memories of garbled pasts,
But milk chocolate dreams always bring you the pain, lust, and
Fulfillment of pleasure.
And while the telling of folklore and fairytales
Is always a wonderful pastime;
Milk chocolate dreams have a tantalizing quality
That will replenish even the tentative dreamers craving for ecstasy and passion.