On The Asphalt.

Intro to SHORT STORIES

2010-01-17T23:40:00.000-05:00

Short Stories... I love them to death, and yet I hate the process of creating one. Stories have always been... interesting for me. I've always have a Beginning and an End, yet I never know how to get from point A to B. It's either that or I'll have a really good Climax, but neither a Beginning or and End.

The stories in my head are jumbled, and it's a miracle some of them can get out. I try my best with them, regardless of their weirdly patched nature, or rather my weirdly patched nature.

I think it's best to dive straight into them, I'll see you below.

Intro to POETRY

2010-01-17T23:33:00.000-05:00

During Writer's Craft, I was very excited when it was our Poetry unit. For some reason, poetry is the only form of writing I can do when there is a lot of people around. I let the random words that have been plaguing me for the past few hours fall onto paper and form lone, eerie sentences that make no sense at all.

Poetry has always been kind of fascinating for me, because of that. I find the way words sound, the rhyming and rhythm, so beautiful and quirky. I love riddles as well, and its too much fun writing about something in such a vague way that appeals to me. It's very amusing to have others try to guess the meaning behind them.

Poetry is a dance, and it's the tripping and falling part that get me all the time.

Have fun tripping over my words.

How Not to Play Left for Dead 2

2010-01-17T22:57:00.000-05:00

In no specific order, this is how to not survive a zombie infestation. Below are ten of the things one should not attempt, much less think off, when fending off zombies.

#1. When someone tells you to run, do not, I repeat: do not, just stand there in confusion.

If I told you to run straight ahead, there is no direction to think of, just keep going and don’t look back – especially if you’re the last one of two survivors left, and not the skilled one. Believe me, zombies will dive straight for your brains and your throbbing, digital heart if you choose to simply stand there and gawk at your surroundings. Although they may not seem like a perceptive bunch of predators, they know human flesh when it’s standing in the middle of nowhere letting the breeze carry its scent downwind. Do yourself, and your team, a favour and scramble for the safe house.

#2. I am not hitting you with the Gnome Chompsky; I’m trying to help you!

Sadly, this is the truth most times, and I beg you to take this seriously when your friend is holding the gnome and you’re being mobbed by flesh-eating creatures of the living dead. Trust me, your friend is not hitting you with the gnome, he/she is simply trying to give you it in order to achieve the achievement and save you from being devoured from zombies. Don’t take the hits, just take the Gnome.

#3. If you’re teammate is already preoccupied with defeating zombies, don’t start the carousel or the roller coaster.

Doing this achieves one thing and one thing only: an alarm that zombies flock towards in hungry mobs. These flesh eating monsters hear noise and they know where the humans are at, so don’t do it. If you’re friend is battling a few zombies already and struggling to get to where you are, then definitely don’t do it. You’re not helping anyone by setting that thing off, so just don’t.

#4. Don’t shoot me.

Self explanatory, if you were killing zombies pleasantly on your own, I don’t think you would want someone to shoot you in the head by mistake. It helps no one and brings you a little bit closer to death, and losing the game.

#5. If you hear foreboding music with screeching violins and such, do not stray from your teammates.

If you hear such music in the background, chances are you will get mauled by some specialized demon of the living dead and die. When you hear this music, do not be the idiot who says, “Hey, let me check that out!” Just stay with your friends, the monsters can’t get all of you at once, it’s a given.

#6. Sobbing = Witch. Note: Do not disturb her, you idiot.

Yes, I get it; the witch is an annoying piece of work, that doesn’t mean you should attempt to kill her. If you do, go ahead, but not only will she kill you first, you will gain nothing when your teammates decide to kill the wailing witch. Don’t try to be clever and walk next to her and shot gun her face, and don’t try to throw something explosive at her from afar. It’s just not worth it to bother her, so don’t.

#7. When throwing flammable objects, such as Molotov Cocktails, and explosives do not, for the love of God, throw them in the same direction as your teammates!

Seriously, no one wants to suffer burn damage, and it’s annoying when those little flames of doom creep up on the edges of your screen. You need your teammates, don’t burn them. Please.

#8. When a Smoker, Jockey and or Hunter flee from an attack, don’t be the cool guy and run after them: they will kill you.

Enough said. These things are menacing, vindictive, flesh-eating zombies. They are not playing hide and seek with you, they are trying to lure you away from your teammates so they can rip your face off and slowly eat your brains.

#9. Be aware of your surroundings, fool, you are dealing with zombies here.

It’s true. Zombies are no longer stupid, idiots who walk around slowly, drooling and searching for brains, quite the opposite really. Well, actually, they still drool and search for brains, it’s just that they are quite determined, have a one track mind and are painfully strong and fast. They’re also very good at hiding, spotting you and alerting zombies and forming elaborate mobs of doom. So, be careful.

#10. There is no I in Left 4 Dead 2.

Really, there isn’t, not even if you spell the numeric words out, so don’t try to be the star and steal the show. You are not Sharukh Khan, the prince of all Bollywood movies. Trying to solve everything yourself not only pisses off your teammates and ruins the whole game for them, but you end up looking like a cocky, egotistical jerk who is obviously overcompensating for something. For the same of all survivors, just don’t solo everything.

And They Claw at the Moon In Vain

2010-01-13T22:52:00.004-05:00

For the longest time, I sat there cradling the very sight of him in my eyes. I wasn’t used to staring at people for so long, because generally when you do, they stare back. This one, however, had been staring at the same amber fluid for a good while now. He didn’t have the interest to look up and tell me to take a picture instead.

I guess it was something about his unyielding form that intrigued me so. His face was youthful, void of any real wrinkles, yet etched into his brow and grimace were hazy remnants of a tough past. Besides, he was the only one sporting a nice pair of mutton chops on the sides of his face when they had obviously died out in fashion a long time ago. Still, he carried himself rigidly in his authentic black leather jacket. It couldn’t be denied that he was an authentic piece of work himself.

Suddenly, he grunted and scowled in the direction of his drink before swiping it with his large hands and downing it in a single gulp. He slammed the glass back down onto the table with a hiss. For a second or so, his furrowed brow was directed solely at the wooden furnishing beneath the glass he was fumbling with. His fingers paused, as if remembering their stiff place. His eyes, a dark, brooding amber, found mind across the bar.

I was absently aware of a just-barely-legal drinking age kid beside me ordering a drink, “Bloody Mary, shaken, not stirred”. An amateur line when ordering a drink, I would later remember. Only kids ordering for the first time use that line.

Silently, I tipped my glass to him and took a sip, smoothly avoiding his gaze and staring off into some unknown point of the bar. After searching that spot for another minute or so, I nodded to myself. I stood abruptly, downed my drink and slapped a bill down on the counter before making a beeline for the door.

I didn’t look back.

I was halfway across the parking lot when I heard beat up door to the cheap bar slam behind me. I hastened my pace and found my bike, instinctively swinging myself onto the leather seat and preparing to rev the engine.

“Now, hold on a minute there, Red,” a rough, baritone voice said, his words sending icy chills spiraling through my veins.

I don’t know what it was that halted my movements and stiffened me to the core. My heart was a knot in my chest, tight and constricting. I didn’t dare turn around to greet the voice of a man who should have been dead years ago.

“I know who you are,” he told me, casually leaning on the other end of my bike, crossing his arms silently.

Every nerve in my body was screaming to run, to not respond to this man, start the engines and leave him in my dust.

“That’s impossible,” I almost laughed nervously, but I shoved it back down my throat with my spit. “No one knows who I am, not even me.”

The man chuckled, slipping his hand into the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He held one out to me invitingly.

“Now,” he smirked, “I’m sure you would like one of these.”

And he was right, I did want one of his cancer sticks – the nicotine addict inside of me howled with joy just at the mere sight of it. Too bad I gave up cigarettes the same day I gave up my identity.

“No, actually, I wouldn’t,” I lied smoothly.

He quirked an eyebrow at me curiously and I stared him down defiantly. He let out a laugh, shaking his head before sticking a cigarette in his mouth and stuffing the pack back inside of his jacket. He lit his cigarette calmly, looking off into the near distance.

“Running away solves nothing, kid.”

Inwardly, I cringed slightly at his use of the word ‘kid’. Outwardly, I threw him a shrewd, smoldering look.

“This coming from a dead man? Why don’t you practice what you preach, Logan?”

He turned back to me, a deadly look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to preach sh*t if you just listened to me,” he all but growled.

“Dear Jamesie, I am not a child who needs to be parented. Either way, we can all agree that your parenting skills leave much to be desired.”

It should have slightly wounded him – the remark about his shoddy parenting skills – or even stunned him a bit, but the only thing Logan did was stare at me with his burnt, autumn eyes. And then he smiled and tapped his burning cigarette smugly.

“So you remember,” he said, and then I knew I was completely, utterly in sh*t, “You’re still clever, that much I can credit you for, but you’ve got a lot to learn.”

At that moment, I knew it was over, there was nothing I could say to turn this around and if I did, by some divine miracle, find something to defend myself with; he would slice it out from under me, faster than any automatic dicing machine I guarantee anyone has ever seen.

“I don’t understand why you’re laughing; I learnt it all from you.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, but said nothing.

“You should go home Logan, I’ve survived ten years without you, I’m sure I can survive ten more.”

Silence.

“And just because of this, I should let you keep walking?” He laughed, bitterly this time, “If anything, I’m dragging your sorry ass home. Things aren’t the way they were ten years ago, Scarlet, and sooner or later, those humans are going to realize that you aren’t one of them. Actually, I’m sure they already have, given you’re new identity and all. So really, soon, very soon, they are going to hunt you down, just like the rest of us.”

It was my turn to laugh cynically, meeting his hard gaze head on.

“And where is ‘home’ Jamesie – a not too shabby log cabin at the edge of the woods, where your doting wife waits with the children?” I spat venomously.

He pushed himself off the bike in an instant, standing at his full height, glowering down at me.

“You know, your cheek is starting to get a little bit annoying, Red,” he managed to grunt, crushing his cigarette in his palm and sprinkling it over the pavement.

“That’s the point, tough guy.”

His glowering stopped, but the hard look in his eyes seemed more cynical than ever as a bout of deep chuckles racked his body.

“They are going to rip you limb by limb when they find you. It’s up to you if you want to come with me or not.”

It was true; they would grab me by the hair and slaughter me once they found me, if they found me.

He sighed, the hard look in his eyes carried away by the wind around us.

“Listen kid, it was a mistake that last time,” he breathed, running a hand through his shaggy hair, “They screwed me up – my head, I mean – screwed it up so badly. I didn’t know I was supposed to come back – I couldn’t remember that I was supposed to come back.”

I clenched my fist, averting my gaze, memories of bright flames, suffocating smoke, blood and burning flesh crowding my head.

“All I’m trying to do this time, is bring you back like I was supposed to that time.”

Swallowing the flashbacks, I turned to him once more, this time to a gaze of dark amber, heavy with remorse. I crossed my arms and stared him straight in the eye.

“Fine, but it better not be some log cabin in the middle of Canada. You can’t cook for the life of you and there’s no way we’re eating out all the time. I’ve had enough bar fights to last me a life time.”

He chuckled again, this time happily.

“Deal.”

Hold Me Up

2010-01-12T21:25:00.000-05:00

Heavy weights, they weigh.
Words dried on my tongue,
I’ve got nothing left to say.
Lock up my ambition,
Wound the sky with my stare.
Load up that ammunition,
Kill them if they dare.

Razorblade tongue tips,
Cherry red stained lips.
You pray that I’ll make it quick,
But I break you down
Brick by brick.

Wishing, Waiting, Wasting

2010-01-12T21:23:00.001-05:00

You are the first,
You are the last,

The very essence of my past.

You carry bold,
You have me sold,

The way you make me bend and fold.

I carry you,
You carry me,

Were all too blind, and that we see.

You're barren fields,
I'm wastefull rain,

Gratitude is your only shame.

You are hunger,
I am feast,

The blood is dripping off your cheek.

You hand to mine,
My hand to yours,

Our love is nothing but a chore.

GHOST.

2010-01-12T20:30:00.000-05:00

The ghosts hang in the back,
kissing at my shoulders,
blowing at my hair,
whispering what I should be,
singing all my fears.

Tell me where you are today,
How far have you gone?
Tell me if you'll ever change.
Will I ever be wrong?