Surreality

New Email

Mon, 28 Aug 2006 22:27:21 GMT

Just so you all know, I have a new email, MSN, and AIM.

Email: Xiddav@hotmail.com

MSN: Xiddav@hotmail.com

AIM: Xiddav

Joke Application

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 01:43:27 GMT

This is a little something I wrote on a whim. I got the idea when talking to some friends from the RP I am a part of called, Paixao. It is basically a joke application for a “character”. This is the actual application for the RP, I just filled it out with something that some of you will find amusing. Only some of you will get this.

Player's Name: Dave

Age: 17

What Kingdom Hearts games have you played/watched/read? Played Chain of Memories, and know the plot of the other two thanks to Wiki.

AIM/email: Darkfalcon1999

LJ: Alchemic_muse

Character: Bobby Lambert

Series: Real life?

Version: the real one

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Well… to the best of my knowledge and considering he has a wife probably strait.

Appearance: Somewhat on the short side, standing at about 5’7. He has black hair and a beard and moustache that cover his chin. His eyes are the color of tasty Blue Jell-O. His head is somewhat disproportional to his shoulders, which are very broad. He sometimes resembles Lucifer.

Personality: Usually a kindhearted man who will go out of his way to help others in need, he can sometimes get a little… irritated. When he gets very angry, he has a special little smile. It says, ‘You’re going to die!’ He will do whatever it takes to be great, and to achieve his goals. He also likes baby’s ears.

Abilities/Weaponry: Best English speaking hick I know. Also, he had mad Saxophone, marching, and Drum Major skills. He has limitless supply of batons that he can throw with deadly accuracy. He also has extremely good powers of perception, and can sense witch sections aren’t working. Can summon rain.

Weaknesses: When angry he can sometimes revert back to his southern drawl. Mr. Bimm’s cooking is lethal to him as is smallpox.

History: Mr. Lambert joined the faculty of Marian Catholic High School in 2001. Prior to coming to Marian, Mr. Lambert was the graduate assistant in saxophone performance at the University of Massachusetts under the instruction of internationally known artist, Mr. Lynn Klock. Mr. Lambert also had the opportunity to guest conduct the University of Massachusetts Wind Ensemble and study conducting under Mr. Malcomb Rowell. While at UMass, Mr. Lambert performed in masterclasses for Kenneth Fisher and Eugene Rousseau and premiered compositions of jazz great Yusef Lateef.
Mr. Lambert received his Masters of Music in saxophone performance from the University of Massachusetts and his B.S. Ed in music education from Western Carolina University. While there, he served as drum major of the Pride of the Mountains Marching Band for three years. Mr. Lambert is a leadership clinician for high school musicians and athletes, teaching clinics for drum majors and other student leaders throughout the Southeast. He has also written a workbook for high school drum majors entitled From the Podium.
In addition to teaching leadership camps, Mr. Lambert works as a drill designer for United Music Enterprises with nationally known show designer Bob Buckner. He has written shows for colleges and universities across the country. His professional affiliations include MENC, IMEA and Phi Mu Alpha.
Mr. Lambert lives in Steger with his wife Alysia, who is Choir Director at Lincoln-Way East High School. **

Sample LJ post: Well, this certainly is an odd city. I have no idea how I came to be here, but I might as well make the best of it since it doesn’t seem like I will be leaving anytime soon. I wonder if there is somewhere I can buy a saxophone?

Sample RP post: Mr. Lambert stepped out of his awesome car and made his way through the band to the press box, stopping only briefly to yell at some clarinets who were talking. He put on the Long Ranger headset, and after adjusting for feedback began to speak to the band. “ok folks, we have a lot of work to do today, so go to set 27 and try to move fast.” Mr. Lambert stepped back into the shadows of the press box to get a snow cone from the machine they kept up here to hide it from the kids. He pushed one of the buttons, nothing happened. “Awww, you know lemon lime is my favorite, Damn you Bimm,” He said as he waved his fist in the general direction of the school.

Suddenly he was struck with a highly unpleasant pain in his stomach. That sausage wasn’t sitting right. He moved once more towards the window, and began to direct the band, the pain in his stomach increasing as time went on. Another stab of pain hit him, and he swore to never again take food that Duddy, and Tom cooked on a camp grill in the parking lot before practice. But damn, the toast had been delicious. He looked up to chastise Duddy and Tom, but realized he was no longer standing in the Press Box.

Before him lay a gate flanked by two massive fake trees. Mr. Lambert looked around, but didn’t see anyone he knew. He saw a long line leading through the gate, and into the domed city beyond. Because he didn’t seem to have any better options he got in line.

After giving his name at the gate, and being given a electronic journal, and brochure on the city, he finally entered the strange world of Paixao. “This is defiantly not right,” He said as he began to walk down the street, hoping to find something to explain the new world.

I need more passion than you know.

**Stolen from Marian website because I was too lazy to write it myself.

P.S. Dear Mr. Lambert, if by some act of god you happen to come across this, please know that I meant no malicious intent by writing it, so please don’t kill me.

Drugs

Wed, 23 Aug 2006 01:18:15 GMT

I know, I know, I haven’t written in a really long time. Anyway, this is… well its different; I really hope that someone gets what I am trying to say. This is dedicated to a friend.

The End

Shaky Jake

Sun, 18 Jun 2006 22:30:21 GMT

I finally wrote something significant. Inspired by a blues performance.

Shaky Jake

Pete let his fingers strum over the strings of his ivory white guitar, letting a few loose chords flow into the smoky air of the American Legion Hall. He looked to his left and saw his best friend Brad warming up on his Bass. He and Brad had been friends since, in the words of Shaky Jake, “before they could aim their piss”. It was true. He had known Brad all his life, they had grown up on the same street and would spend hours in each other’s room, writing random guitar riffs that they would use to keep the neighbors awake at night. Brad, at seventeen, was only a year older that Pete, making Pete the youngest member of the band, although, that was sometimes hard to tell.

Pete had always been tall for his age, and skinny as well. At 6’1, he was the tallest member of the band, although Jake was a close second at 6’0. Pete remembered the first time that he had met the famous, and sometimes infamous, Shaky Jake.

Jake had been playing since he was four. His father had called him his “Little Mozart”, that is until Jake took an interest in Blues. He did his first show at eight, drawing a crowd of only a few hundred. After that though, his career took off. He was dubbed Shaky Jake, because of his almost seizure like motions in his performance.

It was in his freshman year that Jake put together his first band. He called it Green Bird, and they became an instant local hit. By his junior year, Green Bird had cut a record deal. Unfortunately, by the time Jake was a senior, most of the band members had moved on to bigger and better things, some cutting their own deals, and others settling in to a college life that would lead them only to minivans, and suburbia. The only original member of Green Bird left, besides Jake, was Steve, Jake’s cousin, and the only member that was the same age.

So, in Jake’s senior year, he was forced to rebuild his band. They needed both a Bass, and a lead guitarist and vocalist. Both Brad and Pete went to the tryouts. Brad, as a sophomore, got in easily. But it was only with Brad’s strong intervention would Jake let Pete, as a freshman, try out. Pete remembered how they looked at him, almost waiting to screw up. Even though Pete was the tallest in the room, he felt short.

As soon as he began to play Jake’s jaw dropped. The ease that Pete could make the guitar do whatever his fingers willed astounded Jake. He asked Pete how he could manipulate it so well. Pete told him that he spent hours trying to become one with his guitar, and to know her as intimately as a lover. Because he knew her so well he could get her to do anything he asked. He only wished that he could do that with the ladies.

Jake laughed at the joke, and then promptly sent everyone else home. Since then, he and Jake became fast friends, and the new band, that Jake renamed The Shaky Jake Band, took off like a rocket. In three years, they put out a CD, and were working on a second one. They played at Project Revolution, and also opened for Less Than Jake.

One would tend to wonder why such an up and coming band would be playing in a smoky American Legion for only about sixty people, half of whom were drunk. Not only that, but they were only playing for $150. At first the band was not happy about this. $150 wouldn’t even cover their expenses, meaning that the band would be paying the balance out of pocket. When asked why had agreed to this, Jake said it was because he wanted to give something back. This party was a benefit for and old woman who was dying with leukemia. Jake said that the people were the reason he was where he was in the world today. He figured that this was as good a way to give back as any. He told that band that he would cover there expenses himself. The band refused to let him.

That was how Pete found himself in this Smoky disgusting room. He had already changed into his “show clothes”, a white work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and covered by a tight black vest, and a pare of tight jeans with the knees cut open.

Brad walked over to him and asked if he was ready to go. Pete nodded and played a riff to show off just how ready. Steve played a drum riff in response to Pete’s guitar riff, and Jake jumped on stage. He looked at his band to see if they were ready. They nodded at him, and took their positions. Before Jake introduced the band he walked over to Pete, put a friendly hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was ok. Pete lied and said yes. Jake smiled, tipped his head, and then walked back to center stage to introduce the band. As soon as he did Brad kicked in with a bass line. Steve soon joined in with the backbeat. Pete reveled in the feeling of the force of the bass drum ripping through his body. Pete came in with the melody line, and started to sing while Jake simply bobbed in time to the music on center stage. For two minuets now, Jake had done nothing but bob in time with the music. Pete knew that the people in the audience, who were now beginning to swarm the dance floor, were wondering why the band was named after Jake when so far he had done nothing. Pete finished the chorus and turned to watch Jake show that audience why his name was Shaky Jake.

Jake pulled out his harmonica and began to play, and go into his signature convolution moves. The first time Pete heard Jake play, he had no idea how he could play so fast, and yet make it seem almost effortless. Jake had excellent control, and like Pete, could convince his instrument to do whatever he wanted it to do. The audience was obviously impressed.

The rest of the concert went by in a haze of smoke and light. It was always this way. When the music was playing, Pete was simply swept away. When he was playing was the only time he was truly happy.

An hour passed in what seemed like seconds. Jake announced that Brad had gotten a record deal, and to celebrate he was going to play a couple of songs. This was Pete’s cue to exit stage left. He was no longer needed. He stepped off the stage, and walked over to the bar. Nobody seemed to care that he was only sixteen, and he settled down in a smoky corner with a beer to watch his friends perform without him.

The song was a slow song, and many couples were now on the dance floor, in each other’s arms. A few seconds into the song a young blond girl walked over to Pete and asked him to dance. He apologized and declined as politely as he could, saying simply that he didn’t dance. The girl looked rather disappointed, and walked away. Pete took another swig of his beer, and for a moment held the bitter taste of coffee in his mouth, and remembered a conversation where he realized that the girl he loved was sitting right in front of him, enjoying her coffee, happy to simply be friends with Pete again, and at the same time he realized that the girl that he had loved was dead. Pete hated paradoxes.

He shook his head in order to rid himself of painful memories, and took another drink as Brad shifter to a faster more upbeat song. His eyes wandered across the dance floor and came to rest on a woman, at least five years his senior, shooting him seductive looks, and beckoning for him to come and join her on the dance floor. Pete got up grabbed his guitar and coffin shaped guitar case, and disappeared into a service door.

He found the bands gear, and dug his leather jacket out of the pile. He put on his jacket, and hunched over to put his guitar away. As he closed and latched his case he heard someone approaching from behind him. It was the seductive woman from before who was obviously drunk. As she pinned Pete against a wall and moved her face closer to his, he could smell the putrid stench of alcohol oh her breath. He repressed a strong urge to gag. She pressed her lips tightly against his and probed his mouth with her tongue. Pete wondered vaguely how people found pleasure in this.

Pete pushed her off of him, and spit on the ground trying to rid his mouth of her vile taste of ashes and booze. She stumbled back, and toppled into a pile of cardboard boxes. She got up, called Pete a bitch, and stumbled back to the main room. Pete mumbled under his breath that she was a drunken whore.

Pete wandered out to his car, and lit a cigarette. It was a filthy habit, and Pete knew it, but he frankly didn’t care. Pete stood there, leaning against his car and smoking for a few moments before Jake came outside and greeted him. Pete snubbed his cigarette and turned to face Jake. Jake asked him why he had left early. Pete lied and said that he had needed some air. Jake asked Pete if there was anything bothering him. The band was worried about him, especially Brad. They had noticed that he seemed dead lately. The only time he appeared to have any life in him was when he was performing.

Pete wanted to tell Jake the truth. He wanted to tell him about Angela, he wanted to tell him how he felt carved out. How he felt like someone had emptied him of everything, leaving nothing but this crushing void. He wanted to tell him how he took no pleasure in anything besides his music, and even that was becomeing hollow to him. He felt nothing, no desire to do anything, no desire to even live anymore. He felt as though he was trapped in a tunnel, and he couldn’t see the light that signaled the end.

Instead, Pete lied, and told Jake that he was fine. Jake knew that it was a lie, and looked at his friend with concern. Jake walked up to Pete and embraced him. Pete let himself be hugged, although he felt nothing for his friend anymore. He did not know why, but it saddened him nonetheless.

Jake broke the embrace, and clapped Pete on the shoulder, wishing him goodnight. Jake walked back inside wondering if his friend would see the sun rise the next morning.

Thunder sounded as Pete put his stuff in the trunk, and in the short time it took for him to get into his car, it was already poring. Pete pulled out of the parking lot, and spotted Brad at the main entrances looking for him. Pete drove by without a second glace.

He did not turn on the radio, preferring to drive in silence. The rain was now coming down in sheets, and the frequent flash of lighting would light the night sky. Pete let his eyes drift away from the road to watch the streetlights pass by. He was entranced by the stream of light passing above him, and drove faster. There was a bright flash of lightning, and the streetlights winked out. Pete sighed and turned his eyes to the road, forcing his car to drive even faster. His eyes fell on the many sets headlights passing on the opposite side of the road. They reminded him of the way the light reflected off of Steve’s bass drum during a show. He wondered what would happen if he were to swerve into those beautiful lights. He wondered vaguely, as he began to turn the wheel, if they were the lights that he sought at the end of the tunnel.

Lighter Fluid Musing

Wed, 14 Jun 2006 19:22:29 GMT

Hello, sorry I haven’t written in a while, I really haven’t written anything worth much in the past few weeks. So I am going to post another Lighter Fluid Muse. This Lighter Fluid Muse is actually a series of three entries that I posted in my real journal, but I though that I made some good points in them so I shall post them here for comments and discussion. The first entry was your basic angst teen rant, and then the other two spawned from that. I hope that the main points that I am trying to make are clear to you, and if not… oh well. So the usual things apply… comment and all that stuff. That’s the reason I write these things… so people will comment on them and hopefully get a good discussion going.

I remember this one… and what it meant to me… what I used it for. Why now… of all times… why? What was it that awakened this memory… this feeling, no this mere ghost of a feeling. This necklace… what hope does it hold for me in this? What do I call this feeling? I remember that question. Does she?

(End of First “She” Entry)

So I have been thinking, I know, it’s scary. But anyway, I put this up because it is what I have been thinking about… sort of. It’s actually quite scary that I did this only a few days ago… psychic powers perhaps? Anyway, I always write stuff like this when I am angry or depressed. In a way, stuff like this is both a complete lie, and absolute truth… that makes no sense but at the same time makes perfect sense. I am a walking enigma. But yes, back to things that make sense to everyone else. I have been thinking about “she” today. And I have decided to finally give Christina the truth… the real answer that I only just now discovered. I could not tell her the truth earlier even if I had wanted to, because I didn’t know the truth.

So, Christina, her is your answer, listen up because this is the only time I will say it.

“She” is dead. “She” no longer exists. I can not give you a name because to give “she” a name would be wrong. Names are given to real things… or at least things that still exist. There is no point in learning “a name that means a lot to me”, because it is not the name that means a lot, it is the idea. It is the idea of “she” that I wrote that entry for, not someone who still exists. “She” is nothing more than an ideal… a memory… a ghost that haunts darkest recesses of my mind, and refuses, no matter how much I beg, to leave. “She” is a standard that no one can ever live up to, and this stander has made me suffer countless loss. Because this standard, because “she” haunts me I doubt I will ever find the happiness… the true happiness that I seek. “She” is a memory of a time… well a time that like all time, has passed away, and that I can never get back. “She” is regret for many of the mistakes in my past, that I have sworn never to make again. “She” is the past that I wish I could get back so I could avoid those mistakes… but as I said before, I can never get my past back, just as I can never have “she” back, because… as I mentioned before… “she” is dead… and she can never turn back into “she”, because “she” is in the past. “She” is the past, and like all things in the past, “she”, this memory, this ideal, this standard, is dead. And “she” is now only a ghost… who haunts me… and that I can never let go of.

There… that is the answer you seek… I know that you probably won’t like it, and for that I am sorry. It is the truth… and at the same time, a complete lie. I am a walking enigma.

You know, I mentioned earlier in this entry, the entries I write when I am sad or angry, that really just don’t make sense. In a way, they don’t really exist. This is one of those entries… that means that it isn’t really real. So you can feel free to ignore it completely…

(End of Second “She” Entry)

NOTE: Please read the previous entry before reading this one. This entry is both a continuation, and a response to the comment of the last entry.

I guess that this is a response to Melissa’s comment, but I’m putting it here anyway because a lot of it really is more explanation of “she”.

Melissa asked me if it was just now that I realized that it was possible to be in love with an ideal. The answers is no. I knew that it is possible to love an ideal. I know that it is possible to love an ideal to the point of dieing for it. What I did not know, was that it was possible to love an ideal the way I love “she”. I have never before associated this kind of love with an ideal. Only with a person… who no longer exists. I never before thought that this feeling, this pain could be associated with the love of an ideal. Although I should have realized that it could be. I am willing to die for this ideal, just as I would be willing to die for some people.

I never stopped loving “she” the person, and that is what blinded me to the fact that I could love an ideal this way. For a very long time I believed that she was still “she”, and for a time I was probably right… in fact I know I was right. So I now must question when “she” turned into her. “She” is dead, what was it that killed her? Was it another death? That affected all of us, so it is possible, but I don’t think that is true. “She” was murdered by a cold beast called reality. “Remember that people change.” It is the world that changes us, or prompts us to change ourselves. The events that come along and shatter the small haven we have built, whether it is through ourselves or others, leaving us with nothing to do but cut our hands trying to pick up the pieces of our shattered world. Or, it could be the little things that gather upon our back, and eventually overwhelm us, and drive us to a breaking point. I have been driven to that point many times myself. Sometimes I save myself from snapping… and other times I don’t, and that is the way of the world. So it goes. I thought for a long time that I was still in love with her, but I wasn’t… I was in love with the idea of her, I was in love with “she”. The problem was that I always held her in my mind as “she”. I loved the memory of her: “she”. Is she worse off now that she is no longer “she”? I think so, but that may be just because I hold “she” in my heart with such love. “She” is special, and “she” means the word to me, just like she did a long time ago.

Just as she has changed, so have I. Am I a person that “she” or she would love as well? I do not know, and I doubt that I ever will. But, as Melissa said, people change, so it is not impossible that one day, I might know the answer. But until that day, I know that I will continue to change, it is inevitable. It is one of the two things in know for certain. The other thing that I know for certain is that “she” will always be with me. “She” will always haunt the dark recesses of my mind. In a way, “she” is not truly dead. “She” will always live on forever within me. Not as the person that I loved when she was “she”, but as this ideal, and this memory that I will always treasure in my heart. Is my heart broken? Is my heart black? No, I don’t think so anymore, because that is impossible as long as “she” is alive within my heart. Is writing this my way of finally letting go? No, this is my way of holding on to what I always loved.

I was wrong in the beginning. I said that I couldn’t give “she” a name. At the time I was right, because I did not know the name, and I thought that “she” was dead. But in writing this I have discovered what “she” is, and I have discovered that “she” is alive in my heart. “She” is not a person, “she” is only based on a person, who I loved a long time ago. In a way that person is dead, because she has changed from the person she was, my “she”, to the person she is today. “She” is a standard that I set, not just for others, but for myself. “She” is a memory that I hold on to like a fragment of crystal. It slices and tears into my hand; it causes me so much pain, yet it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I refuse to let it go. But most of all “she” is an ideal. “She” is the ideal that I hold above all others, and strive to fulfill with all my strength. “She” cannot exist in one soul, it is impossible because all souls are like magnets with opposite charges. Only when one soul finds another that is different, and yet the same, can both souls be in perfect harmony. “She” is the ideal of Absolute Perfect Love.

(End of Final “She” Entry)

Sorry 'bout this...

Wed, 31 May 2006 01:00:48 GMT

...but it's time to shamelessly pimp my new community… yes that right, I am one of the proud mods of the lovely new community xpaper_identity. I know that many of you are writers, so I would strongly advise that you at least have a look at it and consider joining. Thank you, and I hope to see you there. Also, feel free to advertise this community in your journal, its brand new so we really need members.

Blood, Tears, and Sweet Revenge

Tue, 30 May 2006 02:15:20 GMT

This is the first part of a rewrite of an old story of mine by the same name. I have basically completely overhauled it while keeping the same plot. I hope to post a part every other day or so. This is encouragement for me to keep going because it isn’t done yet, and I will run out of parts in about two weeks. So, I hope that you enjoy.

I
Daisetsu let out a cry as Seto’s sword traced a cold line of pain across his back. Daisetsu toppled to the ground but made a quick recovery and turned to face his opponent. “Still to slow, Daisetsu, you always were to slow. I figured that you would have at least improved a little from killing all of the others.” Seto taunted.
“I have improved, Seto, you just haven’t seen it yet, and I can think of a few times where I wasn’t to slow.” Daisetsu replied.
“Well, that won’t happen again. I may have gone easy on you last time, but this time I won’t. This time I am going to take your head.”
“You’re welcome to try.” Seto charged headlong at Daisetsu. The crash of there swards began to fill the meadow, and villagers from the nearby village began to gather to watch the fight. Daisetsu landed a glancing blow on Seto’s cheek drawing a thin line of blood. “Now you have one to mach mine, although you aren’t going to live long enough to enjoy it.”
Daisetsu charged at Seto. “Fool.” Seto yelled. Seto blocked Daisetsu’s attack, and landed three strikes on him; the first on his arm, the deepest one across his chest, and a shallow one on the top of his leg. Daisetsu cried out in pain, but managed to steady himself and raise his sword. “You’re getting slower, Daisetsu. Even if you ignore it, that nasty wound on your back is slowing you down.”
“I’m fine. I have won with worse than this.”
“Yes, but never against me.” Seto spun his sword in his hand so that it was now facing down. He charged once more at Daisetsu, and swung his sword in a wide arc leaving another shallow gash on Daisetsu’s forehead. Seto quickly switched his sword to the other hand, reversed his arm and jammed his elbow into Daisetsu’s side. Daisetsu staggered, and nearly fell. Seto spun around and delivered a savage kick to Daisetsu’s chest. Daisetsu fell back and let out a scream of pure agony. Seto dropped his sword and ran over to Daisetsu. He dropped a knee into Daisetsu’s gut and leaned close to his ear. “So tell me, Daisetsu, am I the last?”
“No, there is one more.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
“So you killed Jade?”
“I killed them all, Seto, even Jade.”
“I never thought you had it in you. You were to caring, you had a heart; you weren’t cut out for this kind of work. Did she say anything before you killed her?”
“Yes, she told me that you had always been first in her heart.”
Seto’s normally handsome face became distorted in blind rage. “How could you have killed her? I know that you loved her just as much as I did!” Seto got up and went to retrieve his sword. “I should never have let you live.” Seto was madder than he had ever been; all he wanted to do was to hurt Daisetsu in the deepest way possible. “You know what else I regret? I regret not taking my turn with your whore after the old man was finished.” This was a lie. Seto had always been ashamed of what the old man had done, and personally, Seto believed that the old man had deserved what he had gotten.
Daisetsu screamed and, moving faster than Seto had thought possible, grabbed his sword and flung it as hard as he could towards Seto. Daisetsu’s sword flew across the field and lodged itself in Seto’s chest. Seto looked up to see Daisetsu charging at him. Daisetsu jumped and delivered a savage kick to the hilt of the sword, propelling it through Seto’s chest and into the dirt below. He has gotten so much faster, Seto thought as he fell to the ground.
Daisetsu stumbled over to where his sword lay and proceeded to wipe the blood off. Daisetsu felt Seto tug at the hem of his robes, and jumped fearing some last ditch trick. Instead he only saw Seto beckoning for him to lean closer. “I didn’t mean it, Daisetsu.” Seto whispered in Daisetsu’s ear. “I always hated what the old man did to her. I’m sorry, for what he did.” Seto’s grip on Daisetsu’s robes loosened and his head dropped back into the dirt.
“I’m sorry to.” Daisetsu said as he closed Seto’s eyes.
Now that the battle was over Daisetsu felt the pain of his wounds. He winced and fell to his knees, noticing for the first time how much blood he had lost and was still losing. The world spun, and before he knew it he was lying on the ground looking at the feet of the villagers that had come to watch the battle, as they surrounded him. I can’t die here, Daisetsu thought to himself, there is something else I have to do… I can’t die here. Daisetsu could here talk from above him, but couldn’t understand what was being said. Before he passed into the darkness of unconsciousness he whispered one word, “Sora.”

Ideas

Wed, 24 May 2006 14:46:34 GMT

This is something I am doing more for my own benefit than anyone else’s. I have big writing plans for the summer, so I needed a place to put my ideas down so I wouldn’t forget them. All titles are subject to change.

Blood, Tears, and Sweet Revenge 2.0
This is just the rewrite of the original that I have been working on.

George
You ever wonder what it is like to be a dollar. Well this is the story of a dollar. I am going to try to make it as funny and random as humanly possible.

Spook House
When Alex gets a job at a hunted house things get a little crazy.

Imaginary Friend
Eight isn’t too old to have an imaginary friend… that kills people.

Jack and Sally
Is it possible to fall in love with a ghost? Can Sally save his soul?

Heaven and Hell
Story series about a war between demons and angles, and the humans caught in between; More specifically, a half angel half demon looking for his family.

Vampire
An attempt to turn my vampire story that I have had in my head for years into a story series.

Soul Collector
Another shot at the Soul Collector series.

The Madcap Caper of Rodey, Raftery, and Rohn

Tue, 02 May 2006 01:25:19 GMT

This probably wont be as funny unless you go to Marian. Sorry.

The Madcap Caper of Rodey, Raftery, and Rohn

Scene 1

(It was a beautiful day at Marian Catholic. The cadet band was just starting to warm up in the band room, the sweet smell of chemicals was drifting out of forth hall, and the school’s resident cock was about to crow.)

PERKOVICH: Sir, please remove that sweater before I give you a detention.

(Yes, Mr. Perkovich was a lonely man. His wife had passed away in a tragic hair grease fire. Mr. Perkovich was a truly…)

PERK: Excuse me sir.

(Crap)

PERK: I will see you in detention.

(Yes, Mr. Perkovich.)

PERK: Now get to class.

Scene 2

(Our story begins with a paper, but not just any paper, a paper with words on it, a research paper, but not just any research paper, an 800 point research paper, and not just one research paper, but 100 research papers. Mr. Raftery, the schools resident Irishman, was grading said papers, and by grading I mean banging his head into his desk.)

RAFTERY: Damn kids, damn papers, damn damn. (Sigh). Well, let’s see who’s next. Ah, young Sutton… F. Young Hess… F. Young Liesen… F.

(The Oversoul himself chose this moment to enter the room.)

RAFT: Yes, Young Liesen, have you come to confesses that you haven’t read a book all year long? Confession is good for the soul, honesty is the best policy, the truth, brothers and sisters, will set you free.

BROTHERS AND SISTERS: Yay.

MATT: No.

RAFT: Then what do you want?

MATT: You said that if I didn’t get enough attention at home I could come and talk to you. I’m so lonely Mr. Raftery.

RAFT: Your creepy, get out you peon.

(And Young Liesen departed in tears. Suddenly, from down the hall, there came a massive rumble. Moments latter Mr. Rodey burst forth into the room.)

RAFT: What’s wrong big guy, spill your manhattan?

RODE: Worse than that.

RAFT: Just realized that you can’t see your feet?

RODE: Worse than that.

RAFT: “Charmed” has been canceled?

RODE: Those are some hot witches… I mean, worse than that.

RAFT: What could possibly be worse than that?

RODE: Bubbles has been kidnapped.

RAFT: Great Scott! Who would do such an evil thing? Quick, to the AP-Mobile.

(And so the greatest caper of all time began.)

MEANWHILE (In the kingdom of Jocktopia.)

JEREMY HESS: You wanted to see us King Mattio.

MATTIO: Yes, I have an important mission for you all. Wait, who are you? Your not on the football team.

MATT HARPER: I know, I just kind of showed up.

MATO: Well… ok whatever. Anyway, I have an important mission for you all. I need you to go and deliver this note to the king of Band Land, Lord Bimm.

BLANTON FLOTTE: Um… no. I don’t want to die.

MATO: Do not fear I have recruited a guide for you. You may enter Mr. Waznonis.

WAZZ: Why am I here?

MATO: I am sending you to guide Jeremy, Blanton, and Harper on a quest deep into the heart of Band Land.

WAZZ: Can I get paid overtime?

MATO: Sure, why not.

WAZZ: Ok, I will do it.

MATO: Great, then I appoint thee, The Fellowship of the Ri…

GANDALF: You… shall not… infringe… COPYRIGHT!

(And so Gandalf the Grey slew King Mattio, the greatest king that Jocktopia had ever seen. His funeral lasted for many months, but I took an AP test this morning so I don’t really feel like typing it all out, so I am just going to pretend that he was never in this story)

MATO: Hey!

(And so the fellowship departed and began the greatest adventure of all time.)

Break the Ice

Tue, 25 Apr 2006 21:50:22 GMT

Break the Ice

I have a soul
So don’t try to save it
It’s mine
Mine alone
No one else’s

So why am I so cold
It’s my heart
It’s broken
Dead
Dried up
Burned
It is encased in ice
I am incapable of love
Since it stopped beating
And froze over

Grey Goodbye

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 23:37:31 GMT

I really don’t know why I wrote this except to say…

Grey Goodbye

Everything seems grey
When I look through these shrouded eyes
The roses are dieing
And the birds are all flying
Back to where the sun shines clear
Where the grey clouds are burned away
By the power of love

I will never go there

I will never see blue skies
Or white clouds
Or birds flying free
Because freedom doesn’t exist
It’s just a grey illusion
In this static daydream
(Buzz Buzz Buzz)

And the grey pool
That holds my soul
Is icing over
In this cold barren winter
Don’t try to save my soul
(It’s not worth it)

I’m not going to say that I’m sorry
(Only because you asked me not to)
There is nothing more for me to say

Except

Simply because you asked me to

Regretfully

I turn and say as I walk into the rain
And into the grey fog of memories long lost
I say
Just because you asked me to
I say

Goodbye

Smoke and Mirrors

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 01:42:32 GMT

Smoke and Mirrors

Have you ever had
One of those friends
Who no matter what they say
You always
beLIEve
Them

I have

But what if you found out
That they lied to you
You would
Begin
To doubt
Everything
That they ever told you
And all the truths
That you beLIEved
Just seem to become
Smoke
And
Mirrors

All the things you view as concrete
Erode
To dust
And you never
Ever
Can trust them again

The people you know
Are only a figment
Of there imagination
A lie
Smoke
And
Mirrors

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 01:38:37 GMT

Dear Readers,

I know that this I kind odd, but under the cut is a survey. I am curious to know who is reading my writing, and what you think about it. So please take a few minutes to fill it out and comment with your answers. Even if you are only a casual reader of my writing I ask that you fill out what you can. Thank you very much.

Alchemic Muse

All About You

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Location:
Sexual Preference:
Occupation:

Let’s Talk About Me

How Did You Find This Journal?
Do You Read It Often?
Do You Enjoy It?
Do You Prefer My Poetry or Prose?
Do You Have A Favorite Poem Of Mine?
Do You Have A Favorite Prose Piece Of Mine?
Do You Have A Favorite Character Of Mine?
If I Wrote A Book Would You Buy It?
What Do You Like About My Writing?
What Don’t You Like About My Writing?

The Man Behind The Muse

I Figure that some of you are curious about me, so I will answer some of my own questions.

Name: David
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Location: Chicago, Illinois
Sexual Preference: Strait
Occupation: Student

Thank you for taking some time to fill this out. If you have any other questions about me or any of my writing, feel free to comment with your questions, and I will have them answered as soon as possible.

My Best Friend

Fri, 21 Apr 2006 23:09:35 GMT

A short song that I wrote late Monday night or possibly early Tuesday morning while I was in Florida.

My Best Friend

If I’m in trouble I know you’ll see me through
If i feeling am lonely I can be with you
But now it’s falling
You don’t here me calling
I don’t want to lose you to my memories

You’re my best friend
And I love you
But you don’t even
Seem to see me

I have never seen you as mad as that
You punched that pillow until it was flat
I know that you’re angry
I hope one day maybe
You will see things the way that they appear

You’re my best friend
And I love you
But you don’t even
Seem to see me

I don’t think you know it
Because you sure don’t show it
I wish that you would just know that I care

You’re my best friend
And I love you
But you don’t even
Seem to see me

You’re my best friend
And I love you
But you don’t even
Seem to see me
I wish you’d see me
Don’t you miss me

Unwanted Love

Thu, 06 Apr 2006 03:16:19 GMT

More crap.

Unwanted Love

I can feel the pain of ages
There can be no help from sages
No help for my broken heart

I can see her darkened eyes
The silver tears the angel cries
She will never love me so

I can taste the bitter frost
From all the blood that I have lost
I will not find love again

I can smell stench of fear
Worry not the end is near
The flames of hell are burning

I can hear the screams of pain
They are driving me insane
Welcome to my nightmare

I can sense unwanted love
Here I lay a slaughtered dove
There is no hope for me

Futile

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 01:14:57 GMT

More English class poetry.

This is my statement.

Futile

It is futile to follow these hopes and dreams
Or so it seems
That we can never hope
To reach the top of the rope
On this ladder of hopes and dreams

It is futile to try to make her believe
No way to redeem
That she will never know
How can I show
I can never make her believe

It is futile to try to love again
No hearts amend
I have been hurt too much
I need not make a fuss
For I do not hope to love again

It futile to try to heal my wounds
Death will come soon
I feel no pain
I’m going insane
For I have to many wounds

It is futile to ever feel again
See my pain
Come and see
Watch me bleed
I never want to feel again

It is futile to try to see the dawn
I will be gone
Here I lie
Just let me die
I do not wish to see the dawn

It is futile to try to end this pain
I am insane
Fuck me thrill me
Kiss me KILL ME
Only death shall end my pain

Run Away Through The Rain

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 02:30:36 GMT

I guess I shall end this angst filled series of poems and song lyrics with a poem that I thought up while running down my drive way in the rain to get my mail. Finally something a little more positive.

Run Away Through The Rain

I just wish that I could run away
Through all of the rain
Run away from society
Run away from the pain

And I will run through the rain
And I will try to fly
But as soon as I do
I will just fall down and die

And I will run away through the rain
With you at my arm
We can run and be happy
I will keep you from harm

All you can do is believe
That one day you will fly
You will burst though the clouds
And you will touch the sky

I will run away through the rain
With all my strength I will run
Because all that you can ever do
Is believe
That one-day
You will reach the sun

Crucified

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 01:43:15 GMT

I thought of this while I was laying on the band room floor with my arms spread out like I was crucified. The first lines popped into my head and I built it from there.

Crucified

Here I am crucified
Laid out on the floor
Here I am crucified
Just begging for more

Here I lay crucified
In emotional pain
Here I lay crucified
It makes me insane

Here I hang crucified
For the world to see
Here I hang crucified
All you have denied me

Here I sit crucified
Dead in my heart
Here I sit crucified
It won’t even start

Here I bleed crucified
By myself I was nailed
Here I bleed crucified
Through my heart I’m impaled

Here I was crucified
By the love of my life
Here I was crucified
Upon my own knife

Here I die crucified
Gone from this earthly state
Here I die crucified
It’s me that she hates

Give Into Her (I Don't Know)

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 01:21:16 GMT

More of my teenage angst.

Give in to Her (I Don’t Know)

I don’t know
Why I hurt
Why does it hurt so much to love her

I don’t know
How to stop
My heart from breaking in her hands again

I don’t know
How I felt
How I felt about her all this time

So I
Will cry
As I fall for her again
Give in to hurt
Give in to her
My heart is broken
Shattered again
And I
Am to blame

I don’t know
What she thought
She ever saw in me to begin with

I don’t know
Why I have
These feelings for her that I thought were dead

I don’t know
If she feels
The same way she felt about me before

So I
Will cry
As I fall for her again
Give in to hurt
Give in to her
My heart is broken
Shattered again
And I
Am to blame

I don’t know why
I feel the way I do
When I see him holding her in his arms

I don’t know why
It hurts so much
To see her kiss his undeserving lips

And I don’t know why
It hurts so much
To know that she will never be with me

I deserve this
I did this to myself
And I need this pain

I broke her heart
Now she is breaking mine
Because of what I did I will suffer now’

I don’t know
Why I think
That I was ever good enough for her

I don’t know
If I can
Ever bring myself to love again

I don’t know
Why it hurts
I know that she’ll never love me again

Don't Touch Me Again

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 00:04:15 GMT

I love the smell of teenage angst in the morning.

Don’t Touch Me Again

You just don’t understand
How I feel inside (feel inside)
Its happening again
You’re breaking my heart
Your sad excuses
And the lies you told
I see it coming
And I won’t get out of the way

You don’t understand
What you do to me
How make me feel
Don’t touch me again

Every time we meet
It kills me on the inside
You don’t understand
Don’t touch me again

So take it all away
Your empty promises
And all the time you waste
I’m fucking done with this
Just take it away (take me away)
I did everything I should have
Now I’m giving it up (I’m giving it in)
I don’t fucking need you anymore

You don’t understand
What you do to me
How make me feel
Don’t touch me again

Every time we meet
It kills me on the inside
You don’t understand
Don’t touch me again

(Screamed)

*Have I not hated?
Have I not known?
Have I not painted the bitter flower to which my eyes have been sewn?
Have I not filled my mind these crimson, scarlet shades?
Have I not touched pain?
Have I not felt fury?
Have I not been pushed on the brink of every human emotion,
Felt every shard of glass try to cut away at the intertwinings of my soul?
Have I not known?*
I have known
You havent know
You have no idea what the fuck your putting me through
You don’t understand
You will never understand how I feel
I’ve been waiting
I’ve been wishing
I’ve been hoping that this pain would go away
But its never going away
You made me see every part of me that I hate
You don’t understand what you did to me
You will never understand
I fucking hate you
I don’t need you
I don’t love you
And the best part is
This is all a lie
I could never hate you
I do need you
And I have always loved you
But for the love of God
Don’t ever fucking touch me again

(Sung)

You don’t understand
What you do to me
How make me feel
Don’t touch me again

Every time we meet
It kills me on the inside
You don’t understand
Don’t touch me again

(Screamed)

*I can't live without forgiveness,
I can't know redemption without showing inner mercy,
I can't survive in hate,
I can't move on when my mind's left to wander*
It always wanders back to you
You’re driving me insain
You’re making me crazy
And I don’t understand it
Why do I have these feelings
Why does it hurt so much
Why can’t I even look you in the eye anymore
It’s because no matter how hard I try
I fucking love you
I just can't fucking stop

(Sung)

You always understood
What you did to me
How make me feel
Please love me again

Every time we meet
It kills me on the inside
I hope you understand
Please love me again

*Parts in asterisks are taken from the poem “Forgiveness” by Christiana (deepdownwithin).*

Masks

Thu, 09 Mar 2006 23:15:16 GMT

I am bored… and depressed… and really, really pissed off… therefore it is time to write poetry.

Masks

We all wear these masks
To hide who we are
To make people think we are happy
When they look from afar

We all wear this armor
Even when we are old
To stop all the hurting
Because the world’s so cold

We hide all or feelings
And we try to go numb
Because this place is a Wasteland
With no room for love

We all wear these masks
To hide what we feel
We pretend to be happy
Because this love isn’t real

Again

Tue, 28 Feb 2006 21:59:54 GMT

I wrote this when I was supposed to be practicing, but I got bored of that, so I read “Ash Wednesday”, but I got bored of that to, so I wrote this.

Again

Because I do not hope live again
I do not hope
I do not dare
To live
Again

Because I dare not dream of stars again
I dare not dream
I fear
To dream
Again

Because I do not wish to feel again
I do not feel
I do not want
To feel
Again

I dare not wish to love again
I wish not to love
I dare not
To love
Again

I will never hope again
I dare not hope
I will not wish
To ever hope
Again

Patches

Tue, 28 Feb 2006 03:15:23 GMT

I honestly have no idea why I would write this considering that I am not depressed in the least. I was just looking at a picture I drew of a heart with stitches all over it, and arrows through it, and one tiny patch on it, and I suddenly was inspired to write this poem.

Patches

There are patches on my heart
And arrows through it
Stitches holding it together
And a pain that’s bleeding through

And a love I will never find
Tears it apart
And an end to my word
And another futile new start

And the patches cover burns
Caused by intensity
It tastes like cigarette ashes
And it scars for eternity

I always feel like Dim
A simple wretched thing
And I cry these tears so cold
So cold that they could sting

The world seems so dark
I feel like the dead
I am feeling sick from trying
I’m giving up instead

I took all the pills inside
I lay my head to sleep
I don’t believe in God
But I pray my soul to reap

I know that I will die
Pray before I wake
I have denied the Broken God
My soul he shall forsake

I have patches on my body
And some upon my heart
It shall never beat or love again
It will not even start

The Mark of the Humans

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 22:57:31 GMT

This is my most recent story. I am very proud of it, and I hope that all of you like it as much as I do.

This story is dedicated to Beth. I didn’t mean for it to be dedicated to her, but it just kind of grew to be, proving that great stories have a mind of there own. This story is also dedicated to anyone else who has ever felt “Dim”.

The Mark of the Humans

Prelude
The Blood Red Moon
Walking Down the Spiral Stairs

I stood in a field looking at a spiral staircase that descended down into the earth. A cold wind blew stirring my hair and my clothes. I walked towards the stairs and saw that the column that the stairs were spiraling around was sticking out of the ground about six feet into the air, and that there was something carved onto it.

Through me the way to the suffering city,
Through me the way to eternal pain,
Through me the way that runs among the lost.
Abandon every hope, those who enters here.

Below that another verse was carved.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token

The inscription looked very familiar to me, and for somereason I couldn’t help thinking about the words, “Dante”, and “Raven”. I began to descend the Spiral Stairs. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling the cool stone under my fingers. I looked up at the blood red moon that hung above me, until I went around the first curve, and the moon was blocked out by the first curve of the Spiral Stairs. There had been no stars. I followed the Spiral Stairs for what seemed like an endless amount of time. I eventually arrived at a door with a symbol of a tear drop on it, and this verse:

Inside lays the sin of sloth
Beware of her embrace

Fall into her dark abyss
You’ll never leave this place

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The First Circle
Sloth
The Dim

The room I entered was dark. It was circular, and lit only by torches along the wall. Opposite of me was another door. The room was only occupied by one person. She sat in the middle of the room with here head down. Her long black hair fell over face and stood out with a bitter contrast to her pale white skin. I walked across the room passing the figure with caution, she did not stir. I attempted the door but it refused to open.
“It won’t open for you yet.” I looked back and saw that the figure was standing and looking at me through her lanky hair. I also noticed that her arms were covered with old scars. She looked up at me, and I saw that her eyes were dark and empty. She had a tattoo of a tear drop under her left eye, and another tattoo of an eye with three tears falling from it on her right cheek. She had a long thin scar on her face that ran from the left corner of her mouth across her cheek.
“Why won’t it open?” I asked.
“Because you don’t understand yet.”
“Understand what?”
“Me.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Dim.”
“And what do I have to understand about you, Dim.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how am I supposed to get out of here?”
“You must understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Me.”
“You’re going around in circles!”
“I’m sorry.” The creature that called herself, Dim, sat down, took out a knife and began to trace red lines along her arms.
“What are you doing?” I asked, shocked at her behavior.
“I’m crying.”
“Crying?”
“Yes, bleeding is how I cry.”
“Why are you crying?”
“Because there is no point.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will never get out.”
“Yes I will.”
“Why bother.”
“Why not bother?”
“Because it is pointless. There is nothing worth living for in the world, even if you get out you will be trapped anyway, you just won’t be able to see the walls. There is no point, all the people in your world are animals. They have no feelings, only chemicals; there is nothing worth fighting for.” The creature called Dim sank her blade deep into her wrist, but very little blood came out. “I don’t have much blood these days, but it doesn’t matter, there isn’t anything worth fighting for.”
“Yes there is.”
“What?”
“Love.”
“Love doesn’t exist, it is only a chemical.”
“God.”
“Your God died a long time ago, and besides you don’t believe in God anyway.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I don’t believe in The Dead God ether.”
“What does your belief have to do with mine?”
“Everything.”
“You’re going in circles again.”
“I’m sorry.” The creature called Dim pulled her blade out of her wrist and once again began to trace the red lines of tears on her arms. “It doesn’t matter anyway, there is no hope for you.” When she said this I really began to believe that I would never escape this room. What was their to fight for anyway? I sank down next to Dim, and took the knife that she handed me. As the blade touched the skin I truly believed that there was no hope for me.
“Hope.”
“What did you say?”
“Hope is what there is to fight for.” I set the knife down next to me and looked at Dim. “We fight because we hope that one day the sun will shine again.”
“Hope.” As Dim said this she vanished and I heard a click from the door on the other side of the room.
I walked over to it and found the door unlocked, as I knew I would. I pushed it open and saw the Spiral Stairs leading down into the continuing darkness. I stepped onto the Spiral Stairs and continued downward. Eventually I came to another door. This door had a fist on it, and the following verse:

Past the chamber door you see
Rests the sin of Pride

Beware his swaying words my friend
Or you’ll be trapped within his lie

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The Second Circle
Pride
The Deluded

I stepped into a room that was identical to the room I was in earlier. The only difference was that instead of the small and huddle figure of Dim, their was a rather large man in an elaborate robe standing in the middle of this room.
“Hello,” the man said, “My name is Pride.” Pride had a tattoo of a fist on his right hand, and the same eye tattoo as Dim on his forehead.
“Hello.”
“Do not bother to try the door, you won’t be able to get through, only I know how to get through.”
“How do I get through?”
“You must understand.”
I had already learned that asking would get me no where, so I instead focused on the eye tattoo. “What is that mark on your forehead?”
“I have no mark on my forehead.”
“Yes you do, I can see it.”
“I have no mark on my forehead.”
I sighed convinced that this would lead nowhere, “Well, have you ever seen a tattoo of an eye with three tears falling from it?”
“Yes, I have, it is called The Mark of the Humans, and every human has one.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, it is on your left shoulder.”
I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt and saw that I did indeed have a mark there, even though knew that it had never been their before. “This was not here before.”
“It has always been there, you just have never been able to see it before.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have never been here before.”
“Where is here?”
“This is Hell.”
“Why am I here?”
“I do not know.”
“What does this mark mean?”
“It means that you are human, and that you are nothing but an animal, you are imperfect, and fake. You are nothing but a cheep imitation of The Dead God.”
“And you are not?”
“No, I don’t have The Mark of the Humans; therefore I am perfect and must be a god.”
“But you do have The Mark of the Humans; it is on your forehead.”
“I have never seen The Mark on my body.”
“Just because you can’t see your flaws doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.” Pride looked at me and then vanished as Dim had. I once again heard the click of the door unlocking. I walked across the room, opened the door, and continued down the Spiral Stairs.
After some time of walking down the Spiral Stairs I came to another door. The symbol on this one was an eye, but not like The Mark of the Humans. The verse on the door read as such:

The sin of Envy lies beyond
Waiting for content

She screams at others for her flaws
Hear now her lament

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The Third Circle
Envy
The Blind

The person in this room was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. Her long blond hair fell down her back, reflecting off her white dress perfectly. She turned around to look at me, but I realized that she couldn’t because both her eyes had been gouges out. Over the hole where left eye should have been, The Mark of the Humans was tattooed, and over the hole where the right eye should have been, was the eye that had been carved onto the door.
“Hello, my name is Envy.”
“Hello.”
“You should hurry up and go.”
“I can’t the door is locked.”
“You only have to understand me to unlock it, and I am very simple.”
“How so?”
“I am worthless, there is nothing to understand.”
“Why are you worthless?”
“I am ugly, the entire world is better looking than me. I will never find love because I am not worth it. I will never be worth it, I am just a worthless fake who drives everyone who actually cares about me away.”
“How do you drive them away?”
“I simply do by being me.”
“Who are you?”
“I am nothing, a fake, a lost cause, a lost soul, and another doomed youth. I am a worthless maggot of this planet. I am just a worthless animal who was only born to suffer.”
“You are what you pretend to be.” Envy looked up at me and vanished just as Pride and Dim had. I walked to the door and pushed it open. I continued down the Spiral Stairs until I reached another door. This one had a picture of a syringe and the following verse:

The sin of Gluttony lies ahead
Needles pierce his skin

The painful pleasure is what he seeks
Death comes from within

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The Forth Circle
Gluttony
The Junkie

In this room I saw the most pitiful creature I had ever seen. He wore no shirt, and he was thin enough for me to count each of his ribs. His dirty brown hair hung about his shoulders. He held a rubber band tight around his arm, using his teeth to keep it tight. He was currently using a syringe to inject something into the blue vein that was sticking out through the skin of his forearm. As I entered the room he looked up at me. The Mark of the Humans was tattooed on his neck directly over the jugular vein. He also had a tattoo of a syringe in the center of his throat. The needle pointed down, directly towards his heart.
I expected little trouble from him considering the ease that I had passed by Pride and Envy. “Why are you doing that?” I asked him while gesturing at the needle in his arm.
“My name is Junkie, and I am doing it because I feel like it.”
“Why? It isn’t good for you.”
“I know but it makes me feel good, so why not do it.”
“Because it ruins your body.”
“It is my body isn’t it? I have every right to do whatever I want with it.”
“I guess you are right.”
“I am right, now leave me alone.” Junkie took out another syringe and shot the contents into the vein.
“You really shouldn’t do that.”
“I already told you that it is my body, and I can do whatever I want with it, I am only hurting myself, and no one else.” I had no argument to counter this, so I simply sat down and watched Junkie empty syringe after syringe into his arm. I tried very hard to think of something to say to unlock the door and continue down the stairs. “You should try this.” Junkie extended a syringe to me. I took it and held it in my hands pondering the effects of this action. Was there truly any harm in it? Yes, it wouldn’t be good for me, but on the other had it would feel good, and it wasn’t really hurting anyone else.
I was preparing to inject myself when thoughts of Dim entered my head. I realized that this is exactly what she had meant when she had said that humans were only animals. “You are hurting others.”
“What?”
“By doing this to yourself you cause others to lose faith in you, and lose faith in the world.” Junkie looked at me dumfounded for a moment, and then disappeared. I walked over to the door and continued down the Spiral Stairs.
I came to the next door. This one had an image of a knife on it, and the following verse:

Lust is the next sin you shall see
A nightmare in disguise

Turn back now my friend
That decision would be wise

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The Fifth Circle
Lust
The Knick

The door opened and I saw Dim on the floor naked. Another figure was standing over her, and holding a bloody knife. The figure had The Mark of the Humans tattooed on his bare chest, and a knife tattooed on his back. He stood over Dim grinning and laughing like a madman.
“What in the name of God did you do to her?”
“In the name of The Dead God, I tapped her.”
“You rapped her.” I ran over to Dim and knelt by her broken form. She was badly bruised, and had cuts in the spaces between her ribs. There was a lot of blood flowing from between her legs.
“It hurts.” She said right before the figure threw his knife at her throat.
“Damn bitch just wouldent shut up. My name is Knick by the way.”
“You son of a bitch!” I pulled the knife from Dim’s throat and charged at Knick. He laughed, and used my momentum to send me hurtling into a wall. I stumbled back and fell. Knick came up behind me, put his knee on my back and slammed my face into the wall. My back was bending at a very painful angle, and my face and chest were being held tightly to the wall by Knick’s hand in my hair.
“You can’t fight me, you are just like me.”
“I am nothing like you, you rapped her.”
“I tapped her. I have awakened a lust in her that will never be fulfilled no matter how hard she tries. She will seek out every Sin in order to try to slake the lust I have awakened in her. She is mine, I use her as I please; she is nothing but my little RagDoll with all her stitches splitting open and all her stuffing falling out. She is nothing but an animal to be used and then thrown away. You know it to be true because you want to use her too. You and I are one and the same.”
“I am nothing like you!” I screamed.
“SILENCE!” Knick slammed my head into the wall causing the world to temporarily go black. “I will teach you how alike we truly are.” Knick used his knife to cut my shirt to ribbons. “Nice tattoo.” Knick was speaking about a tattoo of half of a wolf’s face that covered the right half of my back. Although I knew that I had never seen such a tattoo before, I also knew that it was there just as clearly as The Mark of the Humans.
As soon as the cold metal of the knife touched my back I knew what Knick was going to do. I started to struggle again, but he stilled me by slamming my head violently into the wall again. I would have blacked out had I not felt the cold knife begin to trace its cruel pattern into my skin. I started to scream. I screamed until I no longer could feel the knife working on the skin of my back. Knick leaned close to my ear and started to whisper to me. “Now we are truly the same, both of us are just animals with a jacked up sex drive. Embrace it, you can’t fight it, you have nothing to hope for. Give up, like I did. You and I are the same.”
“I am nothing like you.”
“LIAR!” He slammed my head into the wall again, although not as strongly this time. “How are we different?”
“Because, Knick, I can love.” Suddenly the pressure on my back, and the fingers in my hair disappeared. I rolled over and cried out at the pain of The Mark of the Humans that Knick had carved into my back. I lay there for a very long time before I was able to pull myself up and move to the door that lead back to the Spiral Stairs. I looked back for Dim’s body, but it had disappeared.
I continued down the Spiral Stairs until I reached the next door. By the time I had reached the door, the pain in my head had subsided, and the fresh wounds on my back had stopped bleeding for the most part. The symbol on this door was a fanged mouth, and the verse was as follows:

Inside waits the sin of Wrath
Long here was he entombed

Pray for strength my wanderer
Or you shall be consumed

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

The Sixth Circle
Wrath
The Knack

Dim was in this room as well. She was caught in this room’s inhabitant’s embrace. There was blood everywhere because the denizen of this room had his fanged mouth buried in Dim’s throat. Blood was running down her nude body, and pooling on the floor. The creature let Dim drop, and I heard her body hit the stone floor with a wet smack. The creature, which bore a strong resemblance to Knick, looked at me. The tattoo of the fanged mouth was tattooed over his real mouth, and The Mark of the Humans was tattooed on his right hand. “Hello, my name is Knack.”
“What have you done to her?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I killed her.”
“But why?”
“The same reason my brother rapped her, because I felt like it.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I already told you, because I felt like it.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Sure it is. This world is full of suffering. That is the way that the Dead God created it. Life is pain, so why not spread some of your own, come on, its fun to let those rivers of red flow. And don’t be a weakling and let your own blood flow like this fake.” Knack delivered a savage kick to Dim’s head causing her to cry out in pain. She wasn’t dead yet. “I know that you want to, just like you wanted to take this miserable creature after my brother was done with her. You and I are one and the same.”
“I am nothing like you!” I charged.
“FOOL!” Knack planted he knee in my stomach, and I dropped to my knees. He pulled my head up by the hair and forced me to look directly into his face. “You are the same as me, and we both know it. Come on and fight me, but you will never win.” He picked me up and threw me into the wall. “Fight me! If you win, I will let you take Dim away, but if you lose, I will try my hand at my brother’s hobby, and make you watch.”
I screamed and charged at Knack. We clashed in the middle of the room. We pushed against each other, nether of us gaining an upper hand.
“Give up you weak piece of shit, you are worthless, and don’t stand a chance against my wrath. Life was created for you to suffer, you hate this world and the Dead God that created it; I know you do.” As Knack said this my strength began to ebb and I was forced onto my knees. I could feel the bones in my wrists and arms strain as Knack pushed against me. “You are weak, you always were. Give into your wrath and let the blood flow. That is all this world is good for. Give up, stop fighting, just let it consume you.” Knack continued to push, and I cried out as he put even more pressure on my arms. I wanted to give up. I wanted nothing more that to make the pain stop by giving it to others. I wanted to give up and die.
“Dim.”
“That weakling can’t help you, you are both hopeless. You are weak, you are a fake.”
“I am not weak!” I began to push back with all of my strength. I man aged to get back onto my feet and relive the pressure that had been pushing my bones to the breaking point. “I am not weak, you are.”
“What?” Knack was weakening.
“I am not weak, you are. If I were weak I would have stopped fighting a long time ago, and I will never stop fighting.” I cocked my head back and slammed it into Knack’s with all of my strength. Knack stumbled back, and released his grip on my hands, as soon as my head was clear enough I drove my fist into Knack’s chest. “You and I are not the same. You stopped fighting, I didn’t.” Knack looked at me and vanished just as the rest had.
I wiped the blood off of my hand and walked over to kneel by Dim. “Are you okay?”
“It hurts.”
“I know, Dim, I know.”
“It hurts, where is my knife? I want to cry, it hurts, where is my knife?”
“I don’t know.” I quickly scanned the room until I saw Dim’s dirty robe. I brought it over to her and slipped it over her head.
“Did you find my knife?”
“No I didn’t.” I picked her up wincing at the pain that was coursing through my entire body. She wrapped her small scared arms tightly around my neck.
“It hurts.”
“I know, Dim.”
“I’m scared.”
“I will take care of you, Dim.” I walked to the other side of the room, pushed open the door and continued down the Spiral Stairs. Even though Dim was not heavy, I still had to stop and rest twice before I reached the next door. Everything hurt. The Mark of the Humans that Knick had carved into my back felt as though it was on fire. Whenever I stopped Dim would not allow herself to be separated from me. She either held onto my neck tightly when I carried her, or wrapped her arms around my arm when I rested.
When we reached the next door I set Dim down on the bottom step and told her to wait for me.
“But I’m scared, I want to come with.”
“You can’t come with, it might be dangerous. It is safer out here, but if anything comes to try and hurt you I will come back and protect you.”
“You will come back, right?”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” Dim hugged me tightly around the neck, and then sat down to wait for my return. I stood up and looked at the door. I knew that this door must be the final one because it had The Mark of the Humans itself burned onto it. The verse went as follows:

The sin of Greed awaits you here
But be strong my friend

Past the door within this room
There your nightmare ends.

I pushed open the door and walked inside.

The Seventh Circle
Greed
The Epitome

The creature in this room stood waiting for me with a cocky look on his face. He had black hair that hung near his shoulders. He was tall and well built. He had The Mark of the Humans tattooed on the tops of both his hands, his forehead, his right cheek, his chest, and over his left eye. He smiled a sly smile that revealed his fangs.
“Hello, boy, I am surprised that you made it this far.”
“Who are you?”
“Who am I? Who am I! I am Greed! I am The Epitome of all Sin. I am the source. I am the beginning and the end of all things evil. I am Wonder, I am Fear, I am Doubt. I am the Random Chromosome, I am Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, I am War, I am Terror, I am Chaos Theory. I am Complete and Total Chaos. I am Complete and Total Madness. I am True and Eternal Darkness. I am the Raw Nightmare. I am Night Terror. I am the Fallen Star, I am Lucifer, I am the Black Angel. I am the root of all evil. I am True Sin.
“I am Pestilence who rides upon the White horse and wears the false crown of peace. I am War who rides upon the Red horse and sheds the blood of the world. I am Famine who rides upon the Black horse and drains the life from the worthless maggots of this realm. And I am Death himself. I come ridding on a Pale horse and I bring The Kingdom of Hell with me in my wake of destruction and death. I am The Dead God!” Greed looked down at me and smiled. “Now, tell me, boy, who are you?”
“I am just a human, nothing more, just like you. No matter what you call yourself, you are still nothing more than a worthless human.”
“Liar! Fight me and see how your powers stand against the powers of The Dead God.”
“You are no god, not even a dead one!” I charged at Greed who dodged me, and roundhouse kicked me in the back, sending me sprawling into the wall. I quickly turned around and charged again. I jumped and kicked him hard in the chin. I heard a sharp click as his teeth crashed together in his head. He stumbled back, but turned around and punched me hard in the side of the head. I stumbled to the ground and struggled against the darkness that threatened to engulf my senses. I managed to regain my composure just in time to doge a kick that was aimed at my face. I rolled onto mo back and thrust my feet violently upwards into Greed’s stomach. He flew a few feet and then landed hard on his back. I leapt up and jumped unto Greed, my knee landing hard on his chest and simultaneously bringing my fist into his face. I put my hand over his face and slammed his head into the stone floor. I raised his head to do it again, but he griped me tightly in the side with he free right hand. I felt him squeeze tighter and cried out when the first rib broke. I felt a second and third rib snap like over taut strings on a violin. Greed laughed at my pain and managed to get a leg under me, and used it to throw me high into the air. He jumped up and kicked me as I fell sending me crashing into the wall with bone crushing speed. I landed face down on the cold stones.
“Do you give up yet? Have you realized that you don’t stand a chance against me?”
“No, I will never give up.” I pulled myself to my feet and charged once more at Greed. He caught my head in his hand, and used my own momentum to hurled me around to the opposite wall. My right arm hit the wall first and was immediately crushed between the wall and the rest of my body. It was full of sharp pain, and then immediately went numb. I fell to the ground in a heap.
“Are you ready to give up now?” I didn’t bother answering but slowly pulled my self up into a standing position. “I guess not. I admire your persistence; I haven’t had a fight like this in years. But, your weakness, like the weakness of the rest of your race bores me. If you are going to do something hurry up and do it. Do it now, hurry, hurry!” I charged at Greed again. He caught me in the chest with his knee. “Pathetic.” Greed cocked his fist back and hit me in the chest with a violent uppercut. My body moved in a slow arc across the room eventually coming down hard on my back on the far side of the room. I started to cough violently, and had to turn my head quickly to avoid choking on my own blood. “Do you give up yet?” I didn’t answer; I simply began to pick myself up for my next attack. I was painfully aware that one of my broken ribs was sticking through the skin of my side. I noticed that Greed was looking at me with a look of fear and awe on his face. His fear gave me the strength I needed to get to my knees. When I had made it to all fours I started coughing again, and couldn’t continue until there was a sizable pool of blood in front of me. “I don’t understand. How is this possible?” Greed was backing slowly away from me, and he appeared smaller somehow, diminished if that was possible. I finally managed to get to my shaking feet and looked Greed directly in his eyes. He was afraid, he was very afraid. “Why don’t you give up? Why don’t you just die? You have no hope to beat me, can’t you see that? Why do you persist? Why do you continue to fight? Why? Why? Why?”
“Because, there is no other option. If I don’t fight, what else is there for me to do? Their is nothing else I can do. I fight because that is all you can ever do in life. You fight, you hope, and you run. You just keep running forward and fighting, and hoping that one day you wont have to fight again. You hope that one day the sun will pierce through this impenetrable darkness, and when it does it will shine out brighter than it ever has before. There are things in this world that are worth fighting for. I fight for them because the only other option is to roll over and die, and I refuse to do that, I refuse to die cold and alone and broken. I will fight for that, I will fight until I can no longer fight anymore. I will fight because there is good in this world, and it is worth fighting for!” I charged at Greed one final time. I knew that I didn’t stand a chance against him, but I was ready to go to my grave fighting him for what little good this world had to offer. I jumped up and cocked my fist back in preparation to attempt to land a killing blow on Greed, but I never hit him. I crashed into the stone floor, and screamed at the massive amount of pain coursing through my body. Greed had disappeared just like all of the rest.
I lay on the floor for quite some time until I felt soothing warmth against my left side where the ribs were broken. I looked over and saw Dim crying. Her tears were falling onto the place where my ribs had been broken. They had washed the blood away, and had eased the pain in my side. Dim curled up next to me and put my arm around her as she pressed herself tightly against me.
“Dim, I thought I told you to wait outside.”
“I was worried.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I saw you fight Greed. I was so scared for you; I thought you were going to die.”
“I wasn’t going to die; I promised you that I would come back.”
“I was still afraid. I started crying.”
“Don’t cry, I’m okay now.” I realized that my injuries didn’t hurt nearly as bad as they had before. I realized that all the time we had been talking Dim had been crying, and her tears had healed me. She stopped crying and looked at me. I realized that her eyes were no longer dead and empty. There was something in them. I also realized that her skin had acquired somewhat of a more health look. “You eyes are very pretty.”
“Thank you.” Dim smiled and it made her look absolutely beautiful.
I pulled myself to my feet, amazed at the healing powers that Dim’s tears held. I felt great, better than I had in a long time. The weight of years seemed to have washed off of me. “We should move on.” I started to walk to the door out of this room. Dim followed me. I pushed it open and was about to step onto the Spiral Stairs when I felt Dim take my hand. “What is it Dim?”
“I can’t come with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because the next door you reach is the last door, and only you can pass through it.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know, back up I suppose.”
I took Dim’s hand in both of mine, and kissed it gently. “Please be careful.”
“I will.” Dim then threw her arms around my neck and held me in a tight embrace. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around Dim’s waist returning her embrace.
“For showing me how to cry, for saving me form Knick and Knack, and most of all for teaching me that there are things in this world that are worth fighting for.” Dim held the embrace for a few more seconds before she kissed me on the cheek, and ran across the room and up the Spiral Stairs. She did not look back. I stood there staring after her for a very long time. Eventually, I sighed and walked over to the door, and continued my journey down the Spiral Stairs alone.

Nevermore
Death
The Final Door

I walked for a very long time before I reached the bottom of the Spiral Stairs. At the bottom was a small room with another door at the end of it. The door had no symbol or verse on it. Only one word:

Death

I stood in front of the door for a long time. I thought of all of the things that I had experienced since setting foot on the Spiral Stairs. I had only been traveling for a few hours, but I felt the weariness and memories of life times on me. I did not remember who I had been, nor the kind of life I had lead before I had started my decent on the Spiral Stairs. There were many unanswered question. How did I come to have the wolf tattoo on my back? Did everyone truly have The Mark of the Humans on there body as Pride had said they did? Was this truly Hell? What did the inscription on this door mean? I stared at the word for a long time trying to determine what could lie behind a door marked only as “Death”. I sighed and grasped the knob in my hands. I was not afraid.

I pushed open the door, and walked inside.

This Path

Wed, 22 Feb 2006 05:31:30 GMT

Just a little something I wipped up on the spur of the moment.

I know that the path have chosen is a difficult one. It is full of thorns that rip at the flesh and draw crimson tears to the surface. It is full of rocks that cause me to trip and fall and lose my way in the darkness, and crawl on my hands and knees looking for a branch to pull myself up on. I bleed on this path, I cry on this path, I suffer beyond suffering on this path, but… on every one of those thorn bushes is a rose, and in every one of those rocks is a diamond. I am glad that I chose this path. I will not turn back.