Bits and Pieces

2010-10-24T17:07:00.001-07:00

I am starting a new blog. It will have all the old content up there but will be waaaaaaay more easyable to navigate.

http://samsbitsandpieces.wordpress.com/

New Music for your Ears

2010-07-30T04:46:00.000-07:00

Have a listen to some of the new music that is in the recently released Starcraft 2 game. I've always been very impressed by the music in all Blizzard games. The Echoes of War cd was amazing, combining music taken from Diablo, Warcraft and Starcraft.

New Blog

2010-07-14T18:42:00.000-07:00

I've started up a new blog here. Planning on making it an episodic story but be warned...it's going to be a little bit nerdy :D

Debts of Little Gods

2010-06-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

Sarah stepped out in the morning air and shivered. Fog still hung near the ground and the grass was a crisp white. She pulled her coat around herself and set out. These short fifteen-minute walks to work were getting near unbearable. Winter was only beginning and already the nights dropped well below zero and the mornings weren’t much better. Even with five layers on, she could still feel the gentle fingers of Jack Frost caressing her skin.

But it was definitely better than it had been. Before she had bought this new house right on the edge of the city, she had to walk close to an hour every morning. That meant less sleep, more cold and almost frostbitten fingertips. Fifteen minutes was not intolerable if she looked at it like that.

As her quick footsteps took her away from her house and into the city outskirts, the buildings began to loom above her. Two, three and four storey buildings blocked out the weak morning sun and the temperature dropped another couple of degrees.

“Do you have a moment, miss?”

Sarah jerked her head up, looking around towards the source of the unexpected voice. She had been trying to curl into a ball while still walking and had not even noticed that someone else shared the footpath with her.

The man was sitting on the ground, back against the worn bricks. He wore shorts, t-shirt and a huge smile. He held a guitar across his lap, fingers absently dancing across the strings but making no sound that Sarah could hear.

“Aren’t you freezing?” she asked in astonishment, her words forming white clouds as they escaped her lips.

“Nah,” the man said around his smile. “It might be cause my body is numb though. Doesn’t really matter though.”

“Doesn’t matter? I doubt it’s even one degree out here.” Sarah glanced forwards. A few blocks away, she could make out the outline of Thompson and Associates. She really couldn’t stay here talking with this homeless man or she would be late. Mr Thompson was not the type of person to take any excuses for tardiness.

But then again, she wasn’t exactly the person who would let a man freeze to death just because she would be late for work.

“If you want a coat, I think I have an old one back at home…”

“That’s a fine offer,” the man interrupted, “But I’m not in need of a coat. I don’t need anything from you but,” here he held up a finger, “you could use a thing or two from me, I think.”

“What?” Sarah cupped her hands in front of her face and blew her hot breathe into them. She could feel her cheeks going red with the chill of the air. Obviously, this man was homeless and crazy. Nothing she could do for him. “Look, sorry, but I have to go.”

She took a few cautious steps away, half imagining the man jumping up and trying to smite her with his guitar. Instead, he just sat there, fingers gliding over the strings and smiling up at her.

She took a couple more backwards steps and then turned around. Sarah told herself that she was just hurrying to work, nothing else.

The few blocks to Thompson and Associates few beneath her feet. Before she knew it, she laid her hand on the glass door and pushed it open. The rush of heated air felt like heaven after the freezing cold outside. Sarah stepped inside and let the door close on the outside world.

Minutes turned into hours, which turned into meetings and faxes and reports. The day flew by without her even realising it.

Once again, Sarah pressed her hand onto the glass door, this time pulling it open. The sunset was settling in over the city, the last rays of light shining over the buildings. The cooling air hit her bare skin, tingling the last vestiges of air-conditioned warmth away.

The streets were full of people going home from work, either walking or driving their cars. The noise of dozens of people politely ignoring each other was loud on her ears. Sarah pulled her coat tight around herself and joined the flow of people heading towards the city outskirts.

She felt him step up next to her before she heard him speak.

“I was serious. You could use some help.”

She turned her head slightly to look at him. He was still dressed in shorts and t-shirt and a smile. He carried his guitar under one arm.

“Are you following me? Get away!” Sarah’s raised voice caused a few people to look at over at her.

The man held up a hand in apology. “Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you. It’s just that…

“You want to help me. Stay away!” Once again, people in the flowing crowd looked over at her, unspoken questions in their eyes but not one of them said a word.

The man seemed to take the hint and stepped away from her, melting away into the crowd. As she hurried away, she took a look around but failed to see him. She let go of the breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She drifted along, thoughts of the man flying out of her head.

* * *

He watched her go. She definitely didn’t want his help. He had asked her twice and twice she had refused. That was bound to be enough to live up to the agreement. He pressed a hand back against the brick wall behind him. Without a thought, or more precisely, the thought of absence and nothing, he slipped into the real world.

The colour seemed to bleed out of the world, turning everything into a dull grey. The sky, the buildings, the walking people, all of it became a bland and monotonous to his eyes.

Everything but the doorway across the street.

Every time he came up here, the entrances and exits changed. The only thing that was similar between them was the golden glow they gave off into the tedious grey world of humanity.

He walked across the street, weaving in and out of the moving flocks of people and dodging moving cars. With a sigh of relief, he pushed through the golden door and stepped through into the colour beyond. So bright and vibrant compared to the tediousness of the city, the Otherside was a welcome sight to his eyes. The tall spiral buildings of pulsing blue stone, the swaying purple and red trees, and the diverse people going about their various businesses.

Yes, it was good to be back.

“Have you completed the task, Apollo?”

He rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. I went there as you asked and told her that I was there to help her but she’d have none of it. Duty done.”

A huge hand reached down from above, the long claws digging into Apollo’s shoulder and pulling him upwards onto his toes. The fabric of his t-shirt ripped under the pressure from his assailant’s sharp claws. His typical smile curved into a grimace.

“Let me go, will you? No need for that!”

Poseidon lowered his face so that it was on level with Apollo’s, his huge dripping beard draping over the smaller man’s shoulders. “Go back and do what I told you too!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it!” Apollo pulled away from the gripping hand. He turned around. “So demanding all the time,” he muttered under his breath as he walked back through the golden door. “Don’t know how I’ve lived so long with him.”

* * *

Sarah woke with a start, jerking upright in her bed. Her room was pitch black but she could sense that she wasn’t alone.

“About time. You were really out of it.”

A scream ripped itself from her throat, a wordless cry of fear and panic. Thoughts rocketed through her mind. How could someone get in here? What does he want? Please don’t hurt me! Take anything you want! Someone help me! Why me? Why does his voice sound familiar?

The scream ended with Sarah breathing out the words, “What are you doing here?”

“Ah. So you recognise my voice. Then you’d know I’m here to help you.”

Sarah stared down towards the foot of her bed, from where the man’s voice was coming from. Her eyes searched frantically for him but there was not even a scrap of light to aid her. Somehow this strange man had broken into her house and was here for…some reason…

“Why?” she managed between short, panicked gasps.

“I already told you.” Was it her imagination or did he just sigh. “This is three times I’ve told you. Back in the old days, we only gave you one chance but here I am. I can’t say I like how the times have changed but you can’t be stuck in the past, or at least that’s what Hera is always saying.”

His monologue made no sense to her but it gave time for her anger to rise to the surface. It overlaid her fear, not banishing it, just covering it.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” She screamed.

The lights snapped on, blinding Sarah. She jerked up an arm to cover her eyes. Slowly, she peeled open her eyelids and lowered her arm. Before her, standing at the open door to her room with one hand on the light switch and the other gripping the neck of his guitar, stood the man she had met in the street. In the light, he didn’t look threatening at all. He was skinny, dressed in ripped clothes and with a huge, innocent smile plastered all over his face.

But still, he had broken into her house at some godless hour in the night for some insane reason.

She reached over and grabbed her mobile phone from the dresser. She punched in three numbers and held it up to her face.

“No, no, no,” he held up his hands. “You don’t have to call the police. I’m here to help you, Sarah!”

Sarah clenched her doona close to her. “Police! There is someone…”

“Enough!” The man’s smile evaporated to be replaced with a scowl. From one second, he went from being a ridiculous looking intruder to a frightening visage of rage. He snapped his fingers and Sarah’s phone gave out a crackling sound. It grew hot in her hand, causing her to throw it away on reflex. She looked on in horror as it started to smoke on the floor.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“I am sick of this. This is just not like the old days.” The man took a step away from the door and Sarah looked up with wide eyes at him. “He wants me to help you so I’m going to help you. You,” he raised an accusing finger to point it at her, “need help and I am going to give it to you.”

Once again, she opened her mouth and, once again, no sound emerged.

“You are going to die, Sarah. You are going die tomorrow and only I can help you.”

* * *

He sat at the small table in her kitchen, watching Sarah as she nursed a cup of tea in both of her hands. She seemed to have gotten past all the anger and fear and was sitting just sitting there in utter disbelief. Back in the old days when he had appeared before people, they would have fallen on their knees and hung on his every word. Civilisation and society and science had brought about such emptiness within everyone. Humans were not what they once were.

Apollo looked at the woman sitting across from him. He had absolutely no idea why Poseidon wanted her saved. He could see nothing special within her, though no doubt that big bully had his reasons. The likelihood of those reasons being shared with him was about as likely as snow surviving in the desert.

“How?” She didn’t look up at him, rather just stared into the murky water in her cup as if it would give some divine answers.

“You will be crossing the road tomorrow and a car will come out of nowhere. You will be hit. The ambulance will come but you will bleed out on the way there.”

“How do you know this?” She still didn’t look up at him.

The answer to that question was something he doubted she had enough wits to comprehend. How would he explain the Otherside and its connection to Earth? How would he explain its inhabitants and how time was not something that affected them as it did humanity? How would he explain exactly what time was? How would he explain who he was?

Sometimes, it is best to simplify things.

“I see the future, Sarah. I’ve been sent here by…a friend who wants to see you live. I can give you signs, if you desire?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He picked up his guitar and placed it across his lap. Softly, he started to pick the strings. The sounds that came out where not within a frequency that her ears would be able to hear, but Apollo heard them well enough. He wove together the strands of music in the air, binding them into long cords. He changed the tune of the song and sent the cords out around the room. He could see Sarah looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.

He sent the cords of sound into the walls of the kitchen and began to bring his song to a conclusion. As the notes and chords rose to a climax, the sound began to have a visible effect on the room around them. The walls started to shimmer and fade into transparency. He could see tall mountains through them, their snow capped peaks rising high into the blue sky. Green forests grew up their slopes, covering the roots of the mountains under their leafy foliage. High above all of this, an eagle cried out as it floated on the unseen wind.

The song ended and the walls returned to their solid state.

Apollo put down his guitar and looked at Sarah. Her mouth was wide open and wonder and disbelief was written all over her face.

“All you have to do is stay home tomorrow and you will be safe,” he said. “Time will loop around this event and you’ll be able to live to whatever destiny you were saved for.”

Sarah looked over at him and just nodded. He gave her a smile. She was definitely going to stay home tomorrow.

* * *

The alarm clock buzzed at her but she made no move to get up. Today was the day that she was meant to die. Today was the day that she would be saved.

She pulled the covers of her doona over her head.

* * *

Apollo walked through the golden door and gave a sigh. It really took it out of him, working such feats amongst the humans. He looked up at the figure that loomed over him.

“It’s done.”

The long, wet beard shock as Poseidon laughed. “Good, good. You have been most helpful. She shall serve her fate now.”

Apollo waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I don’t care. Just tell me that we are even now?”

A clawed hand patted Apollo on the back, sending him stumbling forward. “We are even, little god.”

As he moved off, Apollo muttered under his breath, “That’s the last time I gamble with him.”

Werewolf and the Witcher

2010-06-07T04:27:00.000-07:00

Sitting atop his black horse, his steady breathing turning to mist in the cold night air, Amon gently stroked his chin with one hand as he pondered the sight before him. His other hand was lightly grasped around the hilt of the thin rapier that hung from his belt, the sheathed blade hidden under the many folds of his pitch-black cloak. The breeze that blew around the widely spaced trees danced across the spectacle of death to play gently with Amon’s cloak.

Debris from the two wagons had been scattered across the snow-covered road, the majority of which were iron goods. Amon guessed the men and women had been merchants bringing goods to the nearby town. They must have travelled a long distance across dangerously open country, for the town of Colby was the only settlement for miles.

Amon brushed a stray strand of his long black hair away from his face. To have come so far, only to find death waiting for them a couple of miles away from the safety of Colby’s stonewalls.

He gently urged his horse to step across the road, through the savaged bodies of men, women and horses. The tracks that he had been following were clear to see in the snow, making there way away from the murdered merchants. Amon prodded his horse’s flanks with his heels, causing it to break into a high-legged trot through the deep snow. He left behind him the torn and broken bodies to be buried under the gently falling snow.

Trees flowed past steadily as Amon pursued his prey. Always, he kept one hand on the rapier and a constant lookout for anything that might mark that he was almost upon his quarry.

Even so, his constantly roving eyes were only just able to see the grey blur that flew out from its hiding place behind the rotting remains of a fallen tree. With lightning quick reflexes, Amon threw himself from his horse’s saddle onto the snowy ground. Even as he was falling, the grey blur flew through the space above the horse that ht had occupied only moments before. In the pale moonlight that filtered through the leafless branches of the trees, he could see the faint glimmer of long claws.

As he hit the ground, Amon was already drawing his rapier from its sheath. His eyes watched the creature land some feet away, snarling softly in annoyance that the surprise attack had failed to dispatch Amon. As Amon knew it would, the massive wolf-like creature turned only slowly and regarded Amon with eyes far to intelligent for a simple animal. There was a hatred that burned deep in those red eyes that only thinking, reasoning creatures could achieve.

Amon raised himself slowly onto his feet, both of his legs sinking halfway up to his knees in the snow. He held out his thin rapier before his body, pointing it directly at the grey furred creature before him. Behind him, the black horse had stopped as soon as it felt its rider fall off. Years of training had taught it many things, such as to ignore the scent of blood and the even more distressing smell of werewolves.

“I knew you’ve been following me for days now,” growled the werewolf, the words forming awkwardly in its wolf-like mouth.

Amon watched the beast cautiously. With his legs sunken into the snow, the wolf head was about level with his neck. With his movements so restricted by the snow, he would have to be careful if he wanted keep his throat in one piece. Instead of replying, he carefully moved the fingers of the hand not holding the rapier, gently feeling the object that was strapped to his wrist.

“Did you see those pathetic humans on the road? You should have heard them scream as I tore them apart,” the werewolf taunted. “I can still taste their blood!” As if to illustrate its point, it opened its mouth to show its red-coated fangs.

Hand now ready to grasp the hidden object up his sleeve, Amon replied. “You knew I was following you and yet you ran away. Can it be that you’re a coward?”

The werewolf took a small step forward, snarling its hatred. “You know nothing!”

Amon’s own lips curled back in a sneer as he tensed for the werewolves leap. For a couple of long, silent seconds, they stood only a few feet apart, one coiling for the leap and the other tensing to receive it. If there had been anyone around to witness this standoff, they would have seen that Amon’s eyes too shone with hatred as intense as his enemies.

The seconds dragged by and still they both did nothing. Amon was the one to break the silence. “What are you waiting for, beast? To cowardly to face a single human?” he goaded.

The werewolves face twitched at the insult but he did not leap. “You are nothing, Witcher!” it snarled suddenly. With a turn of speed faster than any horse, the werewolf turned and sped away through the night, leaving Amon standing there.

He relaxed the muscles that he had been tensing, taking his hand away from his cloak sleeve and putting his rapier back into its sheath. He dragged his way through the snow and over to his waiting horse. Slinging himself back into the saddle, he quickly found himself once again following the fresh tracks made by a werewolf in wolf-form.

The minutes floated by as Amon’s horse trotted along the trail, Amon sitting straight-backed in the saddle, cloak flowing out behind him. His eyes constantly roved the moving landscape, ready for the werewolf if it should be lying in another ambush.

Eventually, he emerged from beneath the trees at the foot of a sudden hill. At the top of the steep rise, its cold stonewalls shining in the silver moonlight, was the town of Colby.

Amon cursed softly under his breath, for the tracks that he had been following led straight up the hill towards the town. Even worse, the tracks had changed from giant paw prints into human-shaped footprints.

He ran an angry hand through his long hair, wet from the slow fall of snowflakes. If the werewolf were able to get into the town, then finding it would become even more difficult. A werewolf in human-form was nearly impossible to differentiate from any other human. By the looks of it, Colby was home to hundreds of people.

Cursing again, Amon kicked his horse into a gallop up the slope. As he closed in with the high walls, he could see the footprints going straight up to the stone and disappearing. A wall like this would prove only a slight barrier to a creature with the strength of a werewolf. Amon turned away from the tracks and followed the wall around the perimeter of the town until he came to the town gates.

As was the sensible custom, the gates were closed at night. As was also the way, Amon could see a couple of heads close together as the guards kept ‘watch’ on the gate. Even the sound of Amon’s horse galloping up to the gate hadn’t distracted the two individuals from whatever they were doing to pass the time on this cold night.

“Open the gate!” shouted Amon.

To his immense satisfaction, the two guards jumped up and he could see the petrified expressions on their faces at the sudden voice from below. They both leaned over the stone and looked down at Amon sitting on his black steed.

“Who…who are you?” one of them managed to say, his eyes wide at seeing the black-dressed man at the gate in the dead of the night.

“My name is Amon and I am here to save your miserable lives. Now open the gate and take me to whoever is in charge of the town.” He paused to let this sink in before adding, “There is a werewolf in your town.”

The two men’s reactions were a combination of sheer disbelief and utter terror. Doubtless, they had heard of the many tales of werewolves.

“Who…how did…what?” came the stuttering reply.

Amon glared angrily upwards at the men standing on the top of stonewalls. Men such as these blubbering idiots were one of the reasons that he felt happier the further he was from human inhabitation. They lived behind their solid walls, thinking themselves safe because of their numbers. Men and women such as Amon, who lived their solitary, purpose-driven lives, were scorned as hardly better than the vile creatures that they hunted. However, when those cowering people were threatened, they were so stupid that they didn’t even know what to do. It was always up to the despised individuals under the label of Witchers that had to save the clueless and thankless majority.

“I am a Witcher and I have come to kill the werewolf. Now open the gate before I knock it down!”

This time the reply was not so passive. The initial shock of Amon’s voice was being replaced by anger at being caught slacking at their posts. “You think that we would let someone as evil as you into the town? You bloody Witchers are as bad as the vermin you kill!”

Amon glared upwards. He had been subject to insults much worse, but it was still hard to contain his anger. “This still doesn’t negate the fact there is a werewolf loose in your town.”

The two guards gave each other a quick glance. Because Witchers were despised so, it wasn’t very often one ventured near human inhabitation. If they did, it was normally because they were tracking their prey. With this thought on their minds, they disappeared from the wall top with the intention of letting Amon in. As they saw it, a Witcher was a good person to have around when there was a possibility of a werewolf running amuck. That way, they could both kill each other and ordinary people could go on living their lives with two less evils in the world.

It did not take long for one half of the solid wood gate to swing open. Amon dismounted from his horse and led it through into the town of Colby.

As soon as he was through, the two guards pushed the gate closed again, lowering a huge wooden bar into place and locking it shut. Once this task was done, they stood side by side, looking worriedly at the man who they had just let into their town.

Amon didn’t look back behind him at the guards. Instead, he cast his gaze slowly over the buildings of Colby. From where he was standing, he could already tell that the town had been built very haphazardly, with the streets curling between buildings of diverse sizes.

“So,” Amon said over his shoulder, “Who is in charge of this town?”

“Mayor Fulton,” volunteered one of the guards rather hastily.

“Okay, led the way to his house,” Amon said, gesturing with one hand that the guards should move.

The men moved swiftly through the winding streets, occasionally casting their eyes over their shoulders at the black-clothed figure pulling his horse that was following them. One thing that Amon noticed was the lack of light, their way only being lit by the moonshine. In cities and towns, even small villages, that was closer to the Desolation, lamps always shone in the streets. The more light there was, the less shadows were available to hide in. However, Colby provided dark alleyways between most houses and the potential of hundreds of dark corners in which the werewolf could hide. To Amon’s eye, these people were utterly unprepared for the world that they lived in.

He was finally brought to a large house made of white stone. The two men looked both anxiously at Amon, perhaps wondering what he would do now, and out into the dark streets. Amon gave a small smile. They had just realised what could be hiding in any one of those dark alleys.

Leaving the guards to worry alone on the street, Amon dropped the reins of his horse, stamped his way up the steps to the door and knocked loudly upon it with a closed fist.

“Wake up!” shouted Amon. “Wake up!”

For a full minute, he banged against the door until it was at last flung open by a large, balding man in his nightclothes.

“Who the heck are you?” growled the man, hastily blinking sleep out of his eyes. “What on earth do you want? Don’t you know what hour it is?” The man’s eyes drifted past Amon and caught sight of the two guards standing in the street. “Dale, Warren, what are you two up too?”

Dale and Warren ducked their heads under the sleepily angry gaze. “Sorry, Mr Fulton, but…”

“You have a werewolf in your town,” cut in Amon, going straight for the heart of the matter.

The mayor’s eyes were drawn back to Amon’s utterly serious face. “A what?” he exclaimed.

“A werewolf,” repeated Amon.

Mayor Fulton rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes. “A werewolf?”

“Yes.” Amon bite down on his tongue so as not to say something that the fat idiot in front of him would take as offensive. Though he didn’t need any help that this man or any of the townsfolk could provide, he felt that he should warn them about the threat in their midst. There didn’t have to be any more victims like those of the merchant convey.

“And who might you be, sir? You’re not from this town, and because both Dale and Warren are standing behind you, this must mean you’ve come through the gate. Who are you, a stranger, to tell us such things?” The mayor’s eyes looked Amon up and down, taking in the hand resting on the rapier hilt and haggard but confident face. Mayor Fulton answered his own question. “A Witcher? That must mean that there is…” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening at the unfinished thought.

“A werewolf in your town,” finished Amon. “You must make sure that all of your citizens are safe. I mean to hunt the beast down and destroy it.”

Instead of cowering away from the frightful Witcher standing in front of him as Amon expected him too, the mayor straightened his back to stand his full height, which was still half a head shorter than Amon.

“Now, you look here. I thank you for your warning, sir, but as the mayor of Colby, I do not condone your kind running around my town. We have a problem and it shall be we, the men of Colby that deal with it, not you.” Once again, Mayor Fulton’s eyes moved over to take in the two guards. “Now, Dale, Warren, I want you to go to the house of every strong man. I want all of them to assemble in the town square. Go!”

Amon could hear the two guardsmen run off into the dark.

“You know what you have just done?” asked Amon in a quiet voice.

“I am going to purge this town of that evil creature. Now, thank you for your warning but I’d like you to leave Colby. Your kind is not welcome here!” With that, Mayor Fulton shut the door in Amon’s face.

“What you have done is sentence your townsmen to an unpleasant death.”

He stepped back down the steps and took up the reins of his horse again. “They may not want my help,” he whispered to it, “but without it, they will all die. They know nothing of the danger they are facing.”

He gently led his horse down the street a ways, around the corner from the mayor’s house. Already, he could hear the sound of doors being slammed and feet running in the streets as Dale and Warren woke the town with the news of a werewolf and their mayor’s summons.

Amon found a dead end alley and led his horse into it. “I’ll be back when its dead,” he whispered to the horse.

Knowing what the werewolf would most likely be thinking, he headed towards the growing sound of men talking and shouting. It took him several minutes to navigate through the winding streets until he found a route that took him to the town square. On the way there, men armed with an assortment of weaponry raced past him. Whenever a person drew close, he would shift into the deep shadows and wait for them to pass.

When he did eventually make it to the edge of the town square, Amon stayed in the shadows of the edge. In a single glance, he took in the mass of men of all ages, some holding blazing torches and others holding rusty swords or axes meant for chopping wood. It was a rabble. In the middle of milling crowd, he could hear the voice of the mayor, who was probably giving some inspirational speech.

Turning his head away from the crowd, Amon stared carefully into the numerous shadows that flickered in the orange firelight of the mobs torches. He had little doubt that the werewolf knew about the gathering towns people and would not be able to resist itself from coming to stare over so many potential victims.

The minutes ticked slowly by in Amon’s head and as he continued to observe the shadows, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The mass of men was starting to break up, splintering into dozens of small groups that headed in all different directions. Amon’s lips curled at the stupidity of the mayor and the sheep that followed him. Now the werewolf had dozens of small targets to attack and he could not protect them all.

People were going to die tonight.

As the town square emptied of all people, Amon leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. Instead, he concentrated on the sounds that he could hear. Sooner or later, the werewolf would reveal its presence and Mayor Fulton would suffer the consequences.

He could hear the faint rush of the wind through the avenues of Colby and the rustle of the distant army of trees. Above these were the footsteps and voices of the townsmen as the hunted the night. They were like kids doing a man’s job, little chance to of actually accomplishing the feat and likely to come to grief.

Suddenly, cutting through the night air, came the sound an alarmed cry, which was abruptly cut short.

Amon opened his eyes and raced off in the direction from which the sound had come. He no longer kept to the shadows but instead raced down the middle of the streets, skidding around corners with his black cloak whipping out behind him. He ran past several men, most of who were looking the direction that Amon was heading. They blinked in surprise as the black clad man past them.

He only slowed down when he came upon a man heaving up his guts on the street, obviously not looking down the alleyway, from which Amon’s nose could smell the sickly aroma of blood. He walked straight into the alley and took in the scene presented before him.

Three men lay in various unnatural positions, all pooling in blood as it leaked from their ravaged bodies. The huge claw marks across the men’s faces and chests were the unmistakable mark of a werewolf, whose steel-like claws could carve through bone with ease.

Another man stood in the middle of the bodies, blood on his hands. He looked up at Amon with white-faced terror.

“Why?” he managed to ask in a strangled voice.

“Ask your mayor,” Amon replied simply.

Amon moved over to one of the murdered men and knelt down. He surveyed the huge rents across the face, almost completely obliterating any facial features that the man had once possessed. Carefully, he took one finger and touched a stream of dripping blood that was still flowing freely from those same wounds. In an act that so repulsed the white-faced man that he turned around and lost the fight to keep the contents of his stomach down, Amon poked out his tongue and placed a drop of the dead man’s blood on it.

It was dark methods such were the reason that Witchers were so reviled. Witchers justified the use of such dark powers by the results that they produced but to ordinary people, it seemed that they were becoming the very evil that they were destroying.

Whether it be evil or not, Amon knew that blood called out to blood. In his mind, he could sense the blood on his tongue crying out to the pool at his feet and some on a moving object not far in front of him. Without a doubt, that would be the blood that was even now dripping from the werewolf’s claws and fangs.

Standing up, Amon raced off in the direction which he had sensed the werewolf. He flew through the night like an angry spirit, eager to end the hunt once and for all. He would occasionally see a bloody paw print on the paving, confirming his choice of direction.

A second time in the course of a couple of minutes, a terrified shout carried through the night.

Amon rushed around one more corner to see the huge shape of the werewolf in wolf-form slowly padding away from him towards a group of about a dozen men, one of whom was Mayor Fulton. The men were holding various implements in their shaking hands, from burning torches to gardening forks, even a rusty looking sword. The softly growling werewolf saw no threat and was taking its time over the kill, first utterly petrifying the men with its blood stained fur.

Amon didn’t hesitate. He slipped the knife free of the straps hold it to his wrist and threw it through the air.

The werewolf must have heard Amon’s rushed approach for it took the time to look over its shoulder. Amon could see its red hated-filled eyes take in his unmistakable figure and then widen sharply as it saw the rapidly approaching dagger, its silver blade flashing in the moonlight.

The dagger slammed into one of the werewolf’s hind legs, penetrating right up to the hilt. The razor sharp edge sliced through muscle and flesh and the werewolf’s hindquarters slumped uselessly to the ground, unable to keep its enormous weight supported on just one leg.

The massive jaws opened and the creature howled its pain into the night sky. Not only had Amon crippled it, but also the silver blade caused immense pain. Silver burned a werewolf on touch and the blade inside the beast was even now burning its insides like fire.

Amon followed up the dagger with a headlong rush towards the howling creature, drawing his rapier smoothly. As he came close to the creature, it made a fumbling attempt to tear him apart with the bloodied claws on one of its front legs. Amon neatly sidestepped away from the flailing limb and sent his rapier stabbing through the now vulnerable werewolf’s throat.

The silver coated edge of the rapier blade was specially made for killing werewolves. It bit deeply into the flesh, Amon’s powerful arm jerked backwards, carving the unholy creatures flesh, completely severing the beast’s windpipe. Black blood spurted everywhere as the werewolf started to convulse in a jerky death dance.

Amon brought his feet to a stop and turned around to watch the final throes. After a minute, the body finally became still in an ever-expanding pool of unnatural black blood. He heard a few sighs coming from behind him from the gathered townsmen. Amon, however, kept watch on the body, knowing what was going to happen next.

Slowly at first, the fur and skin began to melt off the body and fall to the ground. There it swiftly disintegrated and became dust. More and more of the creature fell away onto the ground and the dust piles grew until all that was left was a human-looking body, with a dagger in its leg and its neck cut open.

The breaths that had just been released were swiftly sucked back in.

Amon knew that the assembled townsmen behind him and the ever-gathering number of people who had rushed to the scene were watching him. They were waiting for him to say something, to make some remark. He felt their eyes on him, terrified at how easily he had slain such an unnatural killing machine. He could almost hear the thoughts swirling in the people’s minds, starting to blame him already for the deaths of naïve townsmen.

Once again, he moved swiftly. He placed the still bloody rapier back into its scabbard and moved forward to collect the dagger out of the dead werewolf’s leg, which he replaced in the sheath hidden up his sleeve.

Then he simply trotted away into the dark streets, back to where he had left his horse. At first he felt the gazes on his back but they slowly faded away as he entered areas of the town that weren’t filled with members of the werewolf hunt.

Amon lifted himself onto his horse and kicked it into a gallop, not slowing until he had reached the gate. He dismounted, levered the locking bar away and pulled open the door as quickly as he could. This done, he moved back to his horse and thundered out of Colby, away from all human settlement and towards the Desolation.

Book Review - Killing Floor by Lee Child

2010-06-02T22:36:00.000-07:00

Jack Reacher.
Men want to be him.
Women want to be with him.

I'm taking that straight from the back of the book and i have to say, from reading this book, which is the first of a series, that its the stupidest and most proposterious thing that could have been written. It's like saying that this:

Oven.
Microwaves want to be it.
Kettles want to be with it.

Just about as stupid as that, really.

Anyways, i may be making it seems like a bad book, but it's not all bad. I'll give you the run down of the story.

Storyline

Jack Reacher is a wanderer who is doing nothing with his life after getting out of the army. He walks into a town where he is accused of murder. It turns out the deceased happens to be his brother who Jack hasn't seen in years. He then goes out for revenge and finds out that the whole town is part of a money conterfieting scheme that could potentially ruin the whole of the USA. There is a few deaths, a couple nights in prison, a sexy lady and some predictable twists. Ends up with Jack killing everyone involved and walking out of town.

Ramble

The first thing i have to say is that Lee Child really should learn how to use the word 'and'. It's really not that hard. His writing style is as follows: I sat down. I ordered coffee. Drank coffee. It was good. Lots of small sentences. Put together. Like this. Which is. Really. Annoying. After 200 pages. Which means you have. 300 pages. More. To. Go. etc....

The main character is pretty cool. The wandering army dude who has all the skills of a hitman and who kills poeple for justice or just cause he feels like it. I didn't mind him really. The supporting characters weren't too bad either. It's all in first person so they are always a bit in the background.

The plot itself works but it seems like its a bit overdramatized. For some reason, the main bad guy likes feeding genitals to poeple. I think it was to make the reader hate him. Also, there is a side plot about a guitarist who had been dead for 60 years that had nothing to do with anything. In the end you found out that that guitarist had been killed by the father of one of the bad guys. Kinda really random.

Also, the title of the book 'Killing Floor' doesn't work for me. I can't work out what it is refering to in the story.

Conclusion

I am pretty sure i'm not going to bother with the rest of the books in the series. Not really my cup of tea. I'm sure some people must like them or there wouldn't be so many printed and published. I can see this book being more of an airport thing than a serious reading for enjoyment book.

I'm going to give it a 4.5/10

Love, Life and Little bit of Left-Wing Policy

2010-06-01T06:26:00.000-07:00

What was that i hear you say? You want to know what's been going on with me? Surely it'd be more exciting if i wrote another book review. No? You really want to hear stuff about me? Okay, okay. What can i do if you are being so persistant?

What comes first to my head is the awesomeness of the football! There was a few years there when i seriously didn't care about it any more, but that might have something with the position of my team on the AFL table (in the bottom 4 for 5 consecuative years is not fun). But now that the Blues are playing well and butchering my brother's team, it makes it all so much more enjoyable.

The game that i went to see was Carlton vs West Coast at Etihad Stadium (30th May). Dad, my bro and i went over to Melbourne specially to see them. I must say this was the first time i'd been to see an actual footy game live in like 10 years. The last game i saw was at Optus Oval, also the Blues versus the Eagles. I must say i'm surprised at how close the play seemed to the crowd.

I was sitting up on the second teir, above the carlton fan team with their bogan accents and really stupid cries. Sport songs are so generic that they can be used for any team in any sport. I'm sure that the clap-clap-clap-team name thing is used everywhere all around the world.

The game itself was good (mostly cause the blues won 105-76) and shouting out insults and cheering was also fun. I'd do it again fo shizzle, ma nizzle

That's not enough, you say? Gosh! You are so demanding!

I turned up to the end of a Eurovision Party dig but seeing as i'd already seen most of the songs, i wasn't too disappointed. I was surprised at the winner though. I was quadruply surprised that my country didn't even get into the finals. Out of all the songs that i heard, Lithuania was definitely the best. Oh, i forgot that the competition isn't about quality...

Go here to listen to some Eastern European Funk: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab9C0klYilw

If you want to hear the winner again, jump on this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIN8D8UnFa0

She has the strangest accent ever! I'm thinking she grew up listening to audiobooks from a range of different countries and her parents never talked to her, so she picked up a million different accents and combined them into the wierdest accent. She gets points from me for that, as well as looking delicious, i mean, quite nice....mmmmmmmm....Lena.....what?

Anyways, moving on to other international events. I'm looking forward to seeing the world cup in South Africa! Australia are playing on the 13th, 19th and 23rd of June. I'm not sure what time the games will be broadcast over here, but no matter the time, i'll be there watching the Socceroos 'shepard a bit of round leather into an outdoor cupboard' (Bill Bailey, Tinselworm, 2009).

Okay, what else is going on?

Well, i've finished uni for the semester. I dont know if i'll be going back. I really really need a break from everything that's going on. Whatever that involves, i'm not quite sure yet, so suggest some ideas. Anyways, one thing that i will probably be doing is some more of my writing. With the help of helpful helper, i'm hoping to enter a couple of competitions this year. I'm not quite sure how well i'll go but i guess it can't hurt. I'll be going over my favourite stories (Hell Train, Sun Boy and Moon Girl, Across the River, and a yet unnamed one) and editing them to get ready for some professional to have a look at them.

Other than that, i've been spending time watching Supernatural. Love that show, i hear you say and i agree with you.

Hmmmm, it is getting late and my head is running out of words so i'll finish it up there. This is really my first 'real' blog-type post that i've done. I actually blogged about me. Strange, i know. It may never happen again.

I shall finish this post on a high note. Think of me saying this in a girls voice. Or not. I dont mind too much.

SANS PANTS!!!!!!!!!

Photos of Eyjafjallajokull Volcano Eruption

2010-05-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

Mr Linden's Library

2010-05-21T04:13:00.000-07:00

A note before you read this. This picture is part of series drawn for a selection of books that were never published. The pictures were dropped off at the publishers by the author, who promised to come back the following day with the accompanying stories but never did. To this day, these pictures have provided inspiration to thousands of people to create worlds of their own. I thought i'd just get my own version in.

Once upon a rainy day...

She watched as the grey rain clouds released their burden on the city, attempting to drown the buildings, streets and people below. Sarah watched as the raindrops exploded against the window, pattering out a steady beat on the glass. It was the type of rain that, once it had set in, was definitely there for the long haul, which confirmed her suspicion that she wouldn’t be able to get out of the house today.
Sarah crossed her arms on the window seal and leaned her head down on top of them. Already, the rain was blurring the view of the city outside, as if the ocean had risen up and swallowed it up whole and now everything was underwater.
She sighed. It had been so exciting when she had arrived yesterday, with a hundred different possibilities and activities to occupy her weekend. But now it seemed that it would all have to be postponed until the rain blew away. She sighed again, stood up straight and turned around. If she wasn’t going to get to explore the city today, then perhaps she could poke around Mr. Linden’s small house.
Mr. Linden was an old family friend, who had known both of Sarah’s parents even before she had been born and had the habit of turning up at Sarah’s own house without even the slightest warning. The grey, frizzle haired man was the closest she had to an uncle, all be it an eccentric one. Sarah’s parents were off for the long weekend to an old cottage in the countryside where they would, as her father had put it with an odd twinkle in his eye, ‘reacquaint themselves with each other’, whatever that meant. They had dropped off Sarah at Mr. Linden’s on the way, with a kiss on the cheek and a suggestion to be good, and off they had disappeared in the family car.
Sarah had arrived late last night, for her house was a couple of hours outside the city, and had only been able to drag her suitcase up to the room Mr. Linden had showed her before falling asleep fully clothed on the bed. She had planned to spend all of today exploring the city – ‘only if Mr. Linden goes with you,” her mother had said – but now she was stuck inside.
The room she stood in was smaller than her bedroom at home. She supposed it could be called a lounge room, if only because no other name really fit. There were a couple of armchairs set facing an open fireplace, a coffee table with a pile of boring-looking magazines on it and a large portrait of a fat old lady hanging from the wall.
Sarah took a minute to scrutinize the painting. As tall as she was herself and about as wide as her arm span, it was from the olden days when wearing puffy dresses and having lots of chins was attractive. Sarah screwed up her nose at the painting. She could almost imagine the amount of fleshy jiggling the woman would have had when she had been alive.
In fact, she thought, if you take away the dress and put a grey suit on instead, and then add some glasses, it would almost look like the principal at school. Sarah gave a small laugh. Certainly could be Miss Turner!
The sound of Sarah’s laugh attracted attention, for Mr. Linden poked his around the doorframe. “What’s the joke, missy?” he asked in his pleasantly deep voice.
Sarah smiled widely and pointed at the painting. “She just looks like the principal of my school.” She didn’t mind telling him what she thought, because even though he was older than her parents, he had always acted like a big kid and treated her as a grown up, which did seem like a bit of contradiction. However, it left Sarah feeling like she could be herself around him.
He pulled himself around the doorframe and into the room. He pointed at Sarah with a large cooking spoon, which just happened to be in his hand. “Yes, I can definitely see how that could amuse you. Teachers can be the most amusing of people sometimes, if only because they look funny and wear strange clothes.”
Sarah laughed again and clapped her hands. “Oh yes, definitely, Mr. Linden.”
Mr. Linden’s thin face split in two as he grinned back at her. His eyes drifted from her face, though, and squinted out the window. “Looks like we’re in for a lot of rain over this weekend, sorry.” The mention of the rain brought back the feeling of disappointment followed closely by a sudden assault of boredom, the dreaded evil all parents hate that is always lurking over the shoulder of every child waiting for the opportunity to pounce. “Um…I’ve got some cooking on the go, so why don’t you have a look around the house? You haven’t been here before, am I right?”
Sarah shook her head. “Nope.”
“Well, go for it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you find anything strange and exciting you want to tell me about.” With that, Mr. Linden left the room, whistling under his breath and waving the wooden spoon around as if conducting an orchestra.
And she was once again alone. She could hear the sound of Mr. Linden whistling as he made his way down the ridiculously short corridor to the tiny kitchen, a sound that added an oddly pleasing melody to the beat of the rain.
Sarah walked out of the lounge room and into the house’s small central corridor. It ran from the green-painted front door to the yellow-painted back door, both of which were shut. Coming off the corridor were six doors, three along each side. It really was the smallest house that she had ever seen!
The two doors to the immediate left and right coming from the front door were the houses two bedrooms. The one on the left side was Mr. Linden’s and the one of the right was a spare bedroom, where Sarah was currently sleeping. Turning to her left and towards the green door, she walked into the spare room first. It had only two pieces of furniture in it. There was the single bed running along the wall, Sarah’s suitcase lying open at the end. However, most of the space was taken up by the intricately carved, tall and dark stained wardrobe. She had seen it briefly before her tired body had collapsed but already her wild imagination just could picture the fantastical worlds that would lie just beyond the obviously magical wooden doors. A big wardrobe sitting in a spare room had to be a portal to a different dimension, else what was life for?
Seizing the twin handles on both of the wardrobes doors in tightly clenched fists, Sarah counted to three under her breath and then yanked the doors open. Two things happened in quick succession. Firstly, she almost fell over because of her over-enthusiastic door opening and, secondly, that same passionate door-pulling-opening caused a large book to drop off the precariously stacked pile inside the wardrobe and onto Sarah’s foot, succeeding in finishing her fall to the ground. It seemed that instead of containing a mystical portal to a world of magic, the wardrobe was a storage place for dozens, if not hundreds, of books.
From her impromptu seat on the floor, she picked up the book that had fallen on her foot. Printed in big large letters across an otherwise empty front cover was the word ‘ADVENTURES’. Her curiosity raised, she turned the book over in her hands. The back cover had only four words written in smaller letters at the bottom; ‘Written By Your Imagination’. Sarah reread those words twice before turning the book back over to the front cover again.
What? Adventures…written by my imagination? Written by my imagination? Wow, that would be really cool! That would mean that I could do anything I wanted! I could explore the city and wouldn’t have to worry about the rain…
She pulled in her legs and laid the book across them. “Adventures written by my imagination,” she said out loud, before pulling open the front cover.

Sarah ran through the city on a gloriously sunny day, intent on exploring every nook and cranny of it, to leave none of its secrets untouched by her small hands and unseen by her big eyes. With youthful exuberance, she skipped down the down the street, past the smiling shoppers, some of who called out cheerful greetings to her as she skipped past. She smiled back at them and skipped on by, a gentle breeze blowing at her hair.
She pulled up to a stop at a street corner outside to a delicious smelling bakery, for instead of being made of brick, it was made out of freshly cooked pastry. She reached and crumbled a corner of a pastry-brick in a hand. She placed one of the crumbs into her mouth and experienced what could only be called a taste explosion, for the pure perfection sizzled her taste buds, leaving them crying that they could now die happy. Sarah reached out both of her hands to procure a larger amount from this mystically magical and marvelous man-made munchable shop. Her hands were inches away from seizing their prize when her ears caught hold a sound drifting on the breeze. The sound could only be described as a forest fire would sound if it were put in a beer bottle and put up on the mantle piece at home. It held the promise of contained destruction heard from a distance.
Raising her head to look skyward, her eyes were greeted by an impressive and impossible sight. Flying – or maybe it was gliding – above the tall buildings of the city on massive leathery wings was a glittering, red scaled beast that Sarah knew could not exist.
“Dragon…” she breathed out in amazement.
The creature’s massive head turned this way and that, looking down at the city and small people below it, smoke curling lazily from its open nostrils. Sarah blinked her eyes rapidly, to see if a dragon-shaped speck of dust had settled on her eye and was fooling her into seeing something that wasn’t there. Fortunately, possibly, her eyes were clean and there was indeed a dragon, now flying directly overhead.
She turned around to watch it flap lazily over another section of the city, always surveying the ground beneath it. Turning her eyes back towards the earth again, she noticed that the happy people who she had just recently pasted still had the same happy smiles on their faces. It was as if they didn’t see or care about the mythical creature flying slowly above them.
Or perhaps it has taken over their minds? Taken control of the whole city! What will it do when it finds out that I can see it?
As if the red creature could hear her thoughts, it wheeled around steeply and started back towards her. The massive head was no longer moving to and fro but had fixated on the small girl standing on the street corner. The large black eyes swirled and a mouth filled with enormous teeth glinted evilly in the sunlight. The smoke no longer just curled out of its nostrils, but poured out as if the dragon’s inner fire was being stoked into a fiery blaze.
Sarah cast around in terror with her eyes but the people were still moving along happily, calling out greetings to each other. With the no help coming from anywhere and the dragon floating closer, Sarah found her body reacting instinctively. Her legs collapsed beneath her and her arms came up to shield her face, in an automatic gesture of protection. However, the problem with this is that the human body has not had to protect itself from dragons before, or at least Sarah’s hadn’t, and it didn’t know that her arms would provide absolutely no protection at all. If the dragon released its fire it would burn her to a crisp or it could choose to gobble her up in its wide, wide mouth, in both cases her skinny arms would do no good.
Perhaps coming to this same revelation, her body reverted to a different defense mechanism. She opened up her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs, a high pitched scream that caused eardrums to burst, glass to shatter and birds to drop from the sky.
“SSSSSTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah turned over the last page and shut the cover.
She blinked a couple of times and then looked up, half expecting to see the huge head of a red scaled flying lizard grinning down at her, which it thankfully was not. All she saw though was ordinary ceiling of Mr. Linden’s spare bedroom.
She looked down at her shaking hands and the book that they held. She read the words printed on the back cover again. “Written by your imagination…”
To state it frankly, she was terrified at what had just happened. She could remember opening the book and suddenly being in the city with happy people and shop that could be eaten and a huge dragon and almost being eaten and then closing the book. It was like the part were you usually read words had all happened up in her head.
Sarah took a couple of deep, long breathes then pushed herself to her feet, which wobbled a bit from the effort of supporting her weight. She clutched the book against her chest and ran for it.
She ran all the way into the kitchen – which was less than ten meters away – and careened straight into Mr. Linden’s legs. There was a lot of noise and a few pots and pans fell to the ground and a single plate, according to tradition, fell to the floor miraculously in one piece where it spun round and round, gradually and almost reluctantly coming to a stop. When all the commotion had settled down, Sarah and Mr. Linden extracted their limbs and various body parts from the tangle made with limbs and body parts of the other person and picked themselves up from the floor. Sarah shook her head, loosing a shower of flour on the world. When she’d reoriented herself again, Mr. Linden stood over her looking down with a mixture of surprise, anger and curiosity on his face.
“Um…” was all she could think to say.
“Yes, missy?” he prompted, hands on hips in the worldwide gesture of impatient adult waiting for an explanation, which had better be good or you’ll find out what that wooden spoon is really for!.
Sarah looked down at her empty hands. She must have lost the book in the tangle. She cast her eyes around the room, finally finding it under a veneer of flour. She scooped it off the floor and held it up triumphantly.
“Mr. Linden…Mr. Linden, this book is amazing!”
This didn’t really bring the desired response. If he had said something like, “really?” or “tell me all about it” or even “it’s just a book”, she would have felt justified.
However, what he actually said was, “Oh no.”
Sarah felt that perhaps he hadn’t heard her properly. “Mr. Linden, this book is amazing!!!!” She really emphasized the last word, throwing in as many exclamation marks as was sanely possible.
“Yeah, I heard you,” he said. He rubbed a floury hand over his floury face and added, “You didn’t open it, did you?” His voice was filled with desperate hope.
“Oh yes,” Sarah replied excitedly. “There was a city and a dragon and there was me and I ate a building and was almost eaten!” Somehow, just thinking about it now, it didn’t seem all that terrifying. Because it wasn’t real, because books aren’t real and they definitely don’t eat you.
“Oh dear,” said Mr. Linden. He stretched out an open hand. “I’d completely forgotten about these. Could I have it please? I’m afraid I can’t let you have it, Sarah.” The look of dismay on her face prompted an explain out of him. “I’m sure it was all very exciting, getting nearly eaten and all, but the truth is that this is no ordinary book. Of course, you know that, but let me explain. You open it and it looks into your head and you go into the world of your imagination.”
“Which is the coolest thing ever!” interrupted Sarah.
Mr. Linden shook his head violently. “It is not the coolest thing ever, missy. Not even close to the coolest thing ever. You can get lost in your own imagination, or get eaten as the case may be, and not be able to find your way back. You were lucky that you were able to come out the first time. Now, could I please have the book?”
Slowly, reluctantly, she held out the book for Mr. Linden to take. She didn’t really understand how getting lost in her own imagination could be a bad thing. In fact, if her parents were to be believed, she did that regularly. The tone that he was using, though, was enough to make hand the book over.
“Thank you,” he said with a quick smile. He tucked the book under his arm. “Now, could you show me where you found it? There are…well, could you just show me please?”
With less speed than she had arrived with, Sarah exited the kitchen followed by Mr. Linden. They walked into the spare bedroom and she pointed at the open wardrobe – it had indeed ended up containing a doorway to a different world – and Mr. Linden pushed gently past her and started to look through all the books that were piled there. Gradually, a smaller pile of books grew at his feet as he extracted a select group of books from inside the wardrobe and dropped them down to the floor.
She longed to be able to look at all of them – if they were even close to as exciting as the first book, then they would all be the second coolest things ever – but Mr. Linden quickly finished his search quickly and picked up the pile of books he had made on the floor, leaving no chance for Sarah to have a peak into any.
“I know it must seem like I’m being mean and parenty but these books are not something to be played with.” He opened his mouth but seemed to run out of things to say, so he shut it with a snap and left, no doubt to hide the books somewhere.
Sarah waited a few seconds then crept quietly to the doorway and peered around. Standing there in the middle of corridor was Mr. Linden. “And don’t try and find them when I’m asleep, missy.”
Sarah quickly ducked back into the room.
As she stood there next to her bed, the thought hit her. If he didn’t know that he had those totally awesome books in his wardrobe, what other stuff does Mr. Linden have lying around?
One by one, she explored the other rooms in the house. The bathroom turned up nothing more interesting that an abnormally large spider and the she found looking in the kitchen uncomfortable, for she was under the knowing gaze of Mr. Linden. Even if there was a spaceship hidden in one of the cupboards, it just felt wrong to look through all of them in front of him. When he’s gone to sleep then, she thought.
Mr. Linden’s own bedroom was almost a mirror image of the spare bedroom, though the wardrobe was filled with his clothes rather than any amazing literature. She had a second look through the lounge room, and then moved onto the final two rooms in the house.
The first door opened up to reveal a small room packed to the roof with a collection of things, both useful and useless, that must have been gathered over Mr. Linden’s lifetime. Sarah could see a pair of unicycles, an assortment of different sized pogo sticks, a big pink elephant wedged between the wall and what looked like a broken lawnmower. There were other things that she only saw parts of and could just guess at what they were.
She extracted the elephant from the mess, which caused several moments of sheer terror as the rooms contents shifted to make up for the loss. The pink elephant squeaked in her hands as she squeezed it, a sound that no real elephant would ever make but Sarah doubted there were pink elephants in the wild. An unlikely noise for an unlikely, and totally adorable, elephant teddy.
Backing out of the room slowly just in case any sudden movements caused an avalanche, Sarah shut the door with one hand, the other holding her newly found prize.
She turned around and went to open the last door in the house. Her hand closed around the doorknob but it refused to turn.
“Mr. Linden!” she called out.
He emerged from the kitchen, less floury looking from the last time she had seen him. He looked from her to the large pink elephant that she held in her hands to her hand on the doorknob.
“It’s locked,” Sarah said in way of an explanation.
“Ah yep,” replied Mr. Linden. “And I won’t be opening it, missy. Firstly, I put those books in there, and secondly, there are worse things you could be doing that reading books.” This comment just fuelled Sarah’s desire to get into the room. Forbid something and it’s like saying, ‘I dare you to find a way to do what I just told you not to do’.
Already, a plan was forming in her mind. So as not to alert Mr. Linden to her devious plotting, she held up the pink elephant that she had found. “Look at what I found!”
Somehow, this well thought out distraction seemed to work for took his attention away from the door and put it on the ridiculously cute animal. “Been a long time since I’ve seen that. I remember I got that…it must have been nearly a decade ago. Got it from a country fair for this wonderful lady who had this thing for elephants. She also had a thing for all things pink, so it seemed like the most wonderful gift. I can still remember how she took one look at it and walked away from me, nose held up in the air. Never did see her again.” He drifted into one of those silences where the older member of the conversation is remembering back to the good old days, while the younger member would stand awkwardly waiting for the other person to come back to the present.
“Anyways,” continued Mr. Linden eventually, “the cake would be about cooked now. Want to come and try some?”

Sarah lay on her bed in the dark. It really was amazing how time can fly when there is a supply of freshly baked cakes to nibble at. Mr. Linden had pulled them one after the other out of the oven and placed slices before her. Afternoon tea had turned into eating cake while playing scrabble, which in turn had turned into eating cake for dinner. She was not sure how many different cakes had been pulled out of the oven – now that Sarah thought about it, it seemed more than was likely to actually fit inside it – but a wise person never questions cake. Her parents would not approve of that, she knew, but the more cake she had eaten, the more she had wanted to eat. So now she lay in bed, stomach full of a dozen different varieties of cake, waiting for Mr. Linden to fall asleep.
She could hear him walking softly around his bedroom. She had left her own bedroom door open – a deliberate strategy so that she knew if he was really in his bedroom or not – and she gazed over at his shut bedroom door.
Time ticked slowly by and gradually, the noises coming from his room quieted down. Sarah continued to wait until she heard the loud snoring of a lifelong bachelor. Only then did she push back the covers and slip out of her bed. She silently pattered out of her room and down the corridor towards the yellow back door. It was not locked so she gently pulled it open, wincing at every small creaking sound that the rusty hinges made.
Through the open door, silver moonlight poured. It glittered on Sarah’s determined face as she slipped outside into the backyard. It was a true backyard, being at the back of the house and no more than a yard deep.
Turning to her right, she walked slowly along the side of the house until she came to what she had been hoping to find. A window into the forbidden room that had been fortunately left open. It was the work a few moments to slip into the room.
And there, stacked on a padded chair, were the equally forbidden books. Moving forward, Sarah grabbed the one of the top of the pile and, moving back over to near the window, sat down to read it by the moonlight. The front cover had the word ‘ADVENTURE’ printed on it and ‘Written By Your Imagination’ on the back. Even though she had already experienced the delights – having totally forgotten about how terrifying the dragon had been – offered by this book the first time, she eagerly opened the cover…

It was still raining when Sarah’s parents got out of the car outside Mr. Linden’s house. They ran quickly through the downpour and hammered on the green door. It didn’t take long for it to open, though it was long enough for the pair of them to get feel the rain soaking through their clothes and onto their skin. Mr. Linden ushered them both in.
“I hope you two had a lovely weekend,” he said.
Sarah’s parents shared a glance. “It was most…refreshing, Albert,” said Sarah’s mother. “Where’s Sarah? She hasn’t been a nuisance, has she?”
“Um…yeah, I barely heard her. She’s spent most of her time reading; I suppose you could call it.” Mr. Linden’s thin face scrunched up in worry.
Sarah’s parents saw this and exchanged a different type of glance. “What’s the matter, Albert?” said her father.
Mr. Linden opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. Finally, he opened it again to say, “Well, perhaps I’d better show you.”
He led them into the kitchen and pointed to a book sitting on the table. On the cover of the book was a single, large-printed word. “I’m afraid she’s in there.”
Sarah’s parents were aware of some of the strange things that Mr. Linden had dealings with but this was beyond their comprehension. “What?” exclaimed Sarah’s mother. “In a book titled ‘Adventure’? What’s going on here, Albert?”
Mr. Linden rubbed his hands together his hands together nervously. “Well…only Sarah can say for sure. All I know is that she’ll come back when she wants too.”

And somewhere, in a world totally of her own imagination, Sarah was playing with the pixies, thinking to herself that she never, ever wanted to leave.

The End

Random Poem From the Random Man (which is me)

2010-05-18T04:19:00.000-07:00

A stretch, a yawn and I fall into you,
The light dancing in the distance,
It dances in your beautiful eyes too.

Forever I would lie here safe by your side,
Safe from the cruel, cruel world,
Engulfed by your love so wide.

I write this, a poem, a song for you,
A ballad from the depths of my heart,
To the person I wish I knew.

What I’m begging from my reader,
Is if you see a good looking girl,
You know where exactly to send her.

(I'm unsure if this is way to soppy or just ridiculous. Make up your own minds)

OH NO!!!!!! I'VE BEEN INFECTED!!!!!

2010-05-18T04:12:00.000-07:00

This is true, i have been infected by none other than the fungus known as mushrooms. By this, i mean that i've been listening to a lot of Infected Mushrooms lately, a Electronica/Trance/Psychedelic band from Isreal. Totally wicked for doing homework music (or at least in my opinion them are).

Check them out on thier website. You can listen to all their music for free. Its goodness with a wicked beat.

www.infected-mushroom.com

How the Zombie Apocalypse Started

2010-05-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

George stares through a window into the closed room containing the zombiefied body of his wife.

George: How did this happen? I was sure testing her with this potent chemical wouldn't turn her into a man eating monster

George's Zombie Wife: AAAAAAARGH

George: I wish to say goodbye to her. I wish to kiss her lips once more

George's Zombie Wife smears said lips on the window, nashing her teeth and wiping the blood of her victims on the glass.

George opens the door and goes to embrace his wife.

George's Zombie Wife eats his face and escapes the secure facility, spreading the disease to the entire world.

There are two morals to this story. One, don't feed your wife untested chemicals, and two, kill the zombie, dont try and kiss it.

(I acknowledge that i stole this idea from greater minds than mine. I dare them to sue me)

Game Review - Mass Effect 2

2010-05-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

Plot

The galaxy has changed since the events of Mass Effect 1, with the humans now playing a major part in the Citadel's politics and leading the rebuilding after the almost disasterous invasion of the Reapers. Commander Sheppard finds himself sent off on a mission in his ship, the Normandy, to make sure the Geth stop bothering people. However, it ends up the the Normandy is destroyed and Sheppard is lost in space, dying in the vacuum. He is brought back to life after two years and trillions of credits. This might sound a bit cheesy, but the way in which Bioware has gone about it makes it believable enough that you can suspend your disbelief. Now that he is a part of a secret organisation called Cerabus (which is part terrorist, part saviours of the galaxy), he runs around in the Normandy v.2 and collects a team to stop the Reapers from coming back.

Graphics and other stuff along those lines

This is not really an element that makes or breaks a game but it is definitely one that improves its chances of being a truly awesome game. The people are definitely looking more realistic in this game than the first and the voice acting is spectacular! One of hte main voice actors is the Sarah Walker off Chuck (if anyone has watched that tv show) and her australian voice sounds so funny in the midst of the american voices.

One thing that i really like about ME2 compared to ME1 is the loading screens. Yes, that is right. I said the loading screens. They display simple displays of what is actually going on between the point that you left the game and the point where you get back to it, if that makes sense. Like, if you are landing on a planet, the loading screen is your shuttle landing on the planet. Small things like that make me happy.

Game Play

Combat

This game is way more combat orientated than the first one. Moving your squad members around is easier, you have access to a greater range of weapons and the powers are easier to use. ME2, according to me, is primarily focused on going around and killing guys where as the ME1 was more about the storyline. Not saying that i didn't enjoy the storyline, its just that i think that combat is a primary focus for this game.

Research

The research system in this is quite unique. You gather resources by scanning planets from orbit, a process that can get a bit labourious but is worthwhile once you get back onto the ship. From there, all you have to do is click and upgrade. Easy as, bro.

Hacking

The system that is used from hacking took me awhile to get to understand. This might be because i'm a little bit slow though. But once i got the hang of it, everything was a breeze. This might not sound good to make everything so easy, but getting money and stuff isn't really a huge part in the game. It more gives you the option of doing extra things and getting additional upgrades rather than being essential for the continued storyline. One method of hacking is just like playing a game of memory on a data chip while the other is simple matching lines of code.

Resources

There are five different types of resources in ME2. You have credits and 4 different types of metals. Credits can be used to buy stuff at shops, get fuel to travel and buy probes to scan planets. The 4 metals are found in scanning planets and are then used to buy upgrades. A simple system that really works for me.

Closing Statement

I'm pretty sure i haven't covered everything but i think i've gotten the main parts of this game. ME2 is designed as a stepping stone to the upcoming ME3, which i am very much looking forward to playing. If you ever want a good game, you can't go wrong with anything made by Bioware.

I'll give this game 7/10

Book Review - Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

2010-05-06T19:24:00.000-07:00

The Initial Ramble:

This is the third book in the Song of Ice and Fire series written by George R. R. Martin. I read the first two books a few months ago and only recently got my hands on this book. I had been told that the story got better with each book and I wasn’t disappointed. I’m not going to do a review on the first two books but I just have to say that I highly recommend them. This series is truly an epic.

Synopsis:

This book follows the steps of various characters around the world as the land of Westeros is engulfed in war. Each major house seems to backstab and plot to gain power, with the ultimate prize being the throne. Knights, outlaws and other randoms fight each other for honour, loyalty, money or just because they are bloodthirsty bastards. Peasants rise to lordship and kings fall in death. This is not really telling you anything. This series is so long and convoluted with surprises and suspense in every page that it’s hard to give a brief overview. I’m just going to say read the bloody book cause it’s wicked awesome sick rad, man.

Thoughts and Musings:

Okay, I think there is something about people dying that I really like cause this is another book where characters are not sacred. They bleed and die like the rest of us. I was shocked to find out at the end of this book that not one, but two or the main characters were eliminated from the story over a wedding feast. I hadn’t seen it coming but when I look back in hindsight, I can see how it makes it sense. You really have to treat Martin’s characters as real people, which is brilliant writing on his behalf.

Even though this book takes place in the midst of a civil war, there is hardly any fighting going on. Sure, there is the occasional ‘Lord whatsit went here and killed this person and captured this lord’ but Martin seems to stay clear of describing the fighting. This does not mean that there isn’t ample amount of violence. People are maimed and mauled and killed all over the place. It is more that violence isn’t really the point. One of the characters makes statement that ‘quills and ink win wars’, which seems to be reflected in Martin’s writing. The slaughtering of thousands of fictional characters isn’t as important as the development of the main characters and finding ways to put them into increasingly difficult situations.

This book, even though it’s close to 700 pages, is only a step along the path towards whatever end Martin has envisioned. A few major events happen but nothing is resolved. I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. I’m just giving the truth. One thing this book did was ruin any ideas I had about how he was going to end this series. The king I thought was the ‘good guy’ ended up without and head, leaving only the incest-born king and the angry king left to content. And of course, there is the dragon queen floating around somewhere. I can’t wait until she makes an appearance in Westeros. That will certainly stir the flames of the conflict.

Summary:

So, as you might be able to tell, I really like this book and series. I’m reading the next one at the moment and will get back to here with a review once I’m done. What I’ll say is that George R. R. Martin is definitely one of the best writers I’ve read. He finishes every chapter leaving you wanting to read more, making it really hard to put the book down. Even so, there are bits that I just glossed over. He goes into so much detail sometimes it seems a bit irrelevant. I really don’t care about some lord’s son’s cousin’s bastard, really. A small tiny nitpick that I have, but not one that should throw anyone off reading the Song of Ice and Fire series.

Sam scores this book 8/10

Book Review - Dawnthief by James Barclay

2010-04-30T07:40:00.000-07:00

First of all, let me state what led me to buy and, by consequence read this book. I saw the cover and thought to myself "Golly gosh, that author has a really cool name" (seriously, you have to agree with me there). Also, pretty much any cover with two swords on it is cool, particularly if you are as nerdy as me. That said, i did go into this book not expecting much from it, though this method of choosing new reading material has served me well in the past. I bought The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss solely cause the cover looked awesome and it turned out to be one of the better books i've read. I may not judge a book by its cover but i'll definitely pay $20 if it looks awesome enough.

The plot of this story is somewhat unoriginal. World ending evil dudes that need stopping and only one group of people can save them (though i never really worked out why it had to be this particular group of people. I guess it makes about as much sense as sending hobbits into Mordor and we all know how that turned out). This group of mercenaries go around doing this and that and eventually save the day. Book over.

It may not sound very interesting but this may be cause i'm not sure if i totally rate the book yet. I'm really unsure.

One thing that i did like about it was the mortality of the characters. If you go into a book knowing that no one is above getting killed off, it adds that little bit of suspense to all those suspenseful situations. Come on, who ever seriously thought that the main characters in stories like Avatar, for example, were going to die? They just aren't that kinda of tale. In Dawnthief, one of the people you think is going to be a main character (you know how some books have lists of character names in the front? I usually assume that if a name is in there, they are pretty vital to the story) dies within the first chapter. People just keep on dying after that too. Much goodness about that. I might just be a little bloodthristy, but it adds realism to an invented world that would otherwise be totally unbelievable.

The characters in the story aren't really heaps developed. You sorta glimpse into some of their motivations but its always like 'i want to do this cause the author thought it would be a good way to advance the story' rather than thinking like real poeple. On the other hand, you do find yourself actually liking a couple of the main dudes and getting a bit sad (not tear jerker sad though) when one of the characters die. Lucky he comes back to life (fancy that).

So, i'm pretty sure this is a rubbish review of what was actually an alright book. Its not one of those books you go around telling all your friends and close family members about but it is definitely worth a read. I'm going to read some more of James Barclay's books to see how he develops as a writer, seeing as this was only his first ever book.

Sam scores this book 6.5/10

(This is my first book review and i'm sure i'll do lots more. I'll work on making a good layout for later reviews. Anyways, go out to your local library and read this one)

Revenge (Part One)

2010-04-28T03:11:00.001-07:00

A bell tinkled as I opened the door of the café, leaving the cold wintry morning behind and entering the heated interior. The warmth tingled my frozen skin and delicious smells assaulted my nose, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten yet.

Stomach growling, I scanned the dozen round tables spread out around the café. Men and women in suits sipping coffee, joggers relaxing after a run, couples sharing breakfast and one young lady sitting beside the window. She waved at me and I smiled in return. I strode over to her and she got out of her seat to wrap her arms around me.

“Good to see you, Dad,” she said, her voice muffled against my jacket.

I returned the hug with one hand and used the other to ruffle her hair. “Same to you, Jess.”

She let go of me and returned to her seat. I stripped off a couple of layers, placing my jacket and scarf over the back of the chair, and sat down opposite her. “You’d better have ordered us breakfast, girl. I’m starving!”

Jess smiled. It was something that I hadn’t seen nearly enough of as she was growing up. Now she was into her twenties, I was trying to savour every opportunity I could get with her but it would never replace all the time I had lost. “I ordered, Dad, just after you called five minutes ago.”

“Just checking.”

I looked my daughter up and down. She had definitely grown up, a young woman capable of taking care of herself. She had definitely taken after her mother, in terms of looks…

My train of thoughts were interrupted by the sight of something resting around one of her hands, pointedly resting out on the table.

“Is that…” I stuttered.

I’m not sure how, but her smile seemed to grow even wider. I would have warned her to be careful just in case she split her head in half but I was a bit too shocked.

“A engagement ring?” I finally managed to get out.

“Yep, Dad. George proposed to me last night. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

I stood up again and went around the table and enclosed my little girl in a bearish hug. “Congrats, Jess.”

The buzzing of my phone stopped me from squishing her in my arms. I stood back up and pulled it out of my pocket. “Engaged? Wow, girl, you certainly sprung that on me.” I looked at the caller ID but it was an unknown number. “You mind if I take this?”

“Go ahead, Dad. Looks like they are bringing out our breakfast.”

I flipped open my phone and pressed it to my head. “Jack speaking.”

“Jack, listen to me, you are in danger. I know you said that you didn’t want to be bothered again but I really need you to come to me now.” The voice coming through the phone was one that I was intimately familiar with. I had worked with this woman for close to twenty years.

“Rachel, I told you never to call me again.” My daughter looked at me with a questioning look on her face. I held up a finger to her and walked outside the café into the chilly morning.

There were some things that Jess didn’t know about me and I wasn’t all that keen on letting her know about them now that I had left them all behind.

Or was trying too, anyways.

“I’m retired, Rachel. Whatever it is, it’s not my business anymore.” I looked through the frosty window at the table I had just vacated. A waiter was putting down our breakfast. “I’m with Jess now. The job is not going to pull me away from her again.”

“Oh god!!! Jack, you have to get out of there now. Get your daughter and go!”

I took a deep, calming breath. “You are not going to trick me to go down that road again, Rachel. Tell our…your bosses that it didn’t work. Goodbye.”

I heard Rachel shouting as I snapped my phone shut.

The whole café exploded.

An inferno erupted from somewhere within the building, instantly engulfing everyone within. One second, I had been staring at my daughter and then the next she was gone. The window shattered outwards into a million deadly fragments, launching a spray of glass that carved through my skin. I felt myself getting picked up off the ground, as if by a giant invisible hand and thrown backwards.

I opened my mouth to shout but darkness swallowed my words.

Origin Story of the People

2010-04-20T03:32:00.000-07:00

“Long before the People, there was the god. He stood as tall and strong as he does today but, as the years passed by, he grew lonely and wished to have a tribe to call his own.

“In the sky he saw the birds, flying free high above his eternal flame. He called out to them but them would not come down.

“So the god turned his attention towards the great water, thinking that he could perhaps find a tribe to follow him there. He called out to the many fish that inhabit the water, hoping that they would hear his call and come. However, the fish remained ignorant of the god’s call, so the god burst into flames, sending down a stream of fire into the great sea to punish the fish for their ignorance.

“Finally, the god turned his attention towards the land. Here he found many animals, of so many shapes and sizes. The god called out to all of them, announcing his call with a burst of flame that reached into the clouds. Most of the animals saw the god’s calling and ran in fear, for they had heard of the god’s punishment of the fish. However, one animal stayed and listened to the call, responding with respectful worship.

“The god saw this animal that stayed, one called Man, and thundered a blessing over them. From the top mouth, the god spewed the Brightstone, the heart of the god, giving it to his people so that they could care for it. From that day, the People have lived at the foot of the god and kept a close guard upon the Brightstone. If ever it were to be lost, the god would rouse himself from his long slumber and punish us with his eternal fire.

“Or at least that is what I’ve been told. I doubt anyone would want to steal the Brightstone, for what use is a head-sized, sparkly red stone? You can’t eat it or plant it. I can think of no practical use for it.

“Best we keep it, though, just in case…”

Space - Part 2

2010-04-15T17:45:00.001-07:00

As far as he was concerned, San Lupine was a just another man trying to make a living amidst the chaotic hustle of the galaxy. That his trade was looked upon with distaste by some and revulsion by most did not cause him any undue distress. This was not the mention the illegality of all his dealings.

The law of nearly every inhabited planed looked upon slave traders with hatred, even though it was not uncommon for the wealth of those same governments to be produced from the brows and backs of what San liked to call ‘indentured servants’. His life was a game of bribes, discreet meetings and hiding from those who thought they could permanently shut down his business.

San sat across the table from his newest business partner. The person had gone to great lengths to mask their face and body from anything recognisable – it was not advisable to have well-known attachments to slave dealers – but San knew her to be Baroness Jacqueline Alderson, virtual ruler of the out-of-the-way planet of Delmore.

Knowledge was not only money, but also a guarantee of his continued freedom.

“I’m looking for a least a couple hundred new bodies,” Jacqueline said, though a synthesizer embedded in her mask distorted her voice, which made her voice bland and expressionless. “I have heard that you are one of the few persons able to obtain such a large quantity in a short period of time.”

San gave a broad smile, spreading his arms out invitingly to each side. “You have heard correctly!” Unlike the Baroness, he chose not to disguise his features. He was quite proud of his fiery red hair and dazzling blue eyes and did not like to hide them. If someone told San that he was more than a little bit vain, he would agree emphatically and tell them that with a face like his, it was only natural. “I can pledge my personal reassurance that all demands upon my business are met with both speed and discretion.”

“The GA?” she inquired.

“The Galactic Authorities are no more likely to find out about this little deal than fish are to swim through the sky. Rest assured, I want them staying as far away from all this as you.”

The Galactic Authorities were an interplanetary organisation that was granted authority to follow criminals from planet to planet across the galaxy. Most planets, especially those with large populations, gave the GA free rein to pursue their quarries. There were other planets, though, that did their best to keep them away. This was for various reasons, ranging from not wanting outside influence in what they considered internal affairs or because harbouring criminals was profitable.

“How long will it take you to acquire the merchandise?

“Not long at all. I already have several dozen bodies stashed away across a few worlds. It will not take much to find a couple of captain’s willing to transport them here. As for the rest, I have my ways of meeting deadlines.”

The sheer inhumanity of that statement did not seem to faze the Baroness, at least not that San could see. Instead, she leaned forward to state; “I will not abide buying anyone ill or unfit. They must be able to work.”

San knew that any slaves he brought here were destined to end up working in the mines high in the mountains. The conditions were horrendous and the life expectancy was not high for men and women working in those frozen holes. However, the metals that were extracted from the heart of the mountains made people like Jacqueline Alderson more than willing to sacrifice strangers for the wealth that it brought them.

San was sure that she would find other ways of acquiring the work force she needed. At least this way, he was able to guarantee that no families were broken up or innocent people hurt.

“You don’t have to worry about that either. I’m sure you have researched my other business deals and know that I only deliver the best.”

The Baroness leaned back in her chair and nodded an affirmative.

“Now that all that is out of the way” said San, “let us get down to the real business of numbers.”

* * *

San emerged into the sunlight hours later, stretching his aching muscles. Jacqueline had been a hard woman to please and she had taken more than a little convincing to take a reasonable deal. In the end, it had left both of them feeling like they could have done better out of the situation.

But profit was profit, even if it wasn’t as much as he had wanted.

He looked up at the sky, covering his eyes from the harsh glare of Delmore’s two suns. He had been to hundreds of worlds, both densely populated and without any human settlement. Some had supported dense forests while others had vast deserts stretching across continents. He had seen strange planets and animals and sold more than a few to eager buyers. But there was something just wrong about having a sky with more than one sun.

Perhaps it had something to do with the human race evolving under one sun on Earth all those millennia ago, before the planet’s surface had been irreversibly destroyed.

“Or perhaps I just don’t like the light,” San muttered to himself.

“You always did love the dark.”

San looked over his shoulder to see a shadow detach itself from the side of the door. He had walked straight past this person without even realising.

That was pretty much what he paid her for.

“You speak as truthfully as ever, my dear,” he replied.

“I should ask for a raise for that.” The woman’s clothes made out of a colour changing material that blended into whatever was around it. Very expensive but worth it for certain aspects of his business.

“Rachel, my dear, I pay you enough so that you could buy a planet if you wanted too. Don’t think I’m giving you any more.”

Rachel glided to a stop just behind San’s left shoulder. “I could always leave.”

“An empty threat and we both know it.” San turned his head away from Rachel. The building that he had emerged from was situated on the edge of a deep valley. A green wilderness stretched down into the depths of the mountain shadows. The building itself was an old ruin from a disgraced family. No one ever came here. It made it the perfect place for clandestine meetings.

Rachel eventually broke the silence. “So, should I start talking to the usual people about getting the merchandise here?”

San shook his head. “I think I’d better do this one. The Baroness is wanting quite a lot for her mines. It may take some convincing to let some of the prison wardens to give me enough people to fill this contract.”

Rachel gave a wry chuckle. "I'm sure you'll manage."

The Shattering of my Time Travel Dreams

2010-04-13T19:54:00.000-07:00

It was released today that the whole Sven Yorgsen time travel thing was an elaborate hoax. It makes me cry a little inside cause i kinda got excited about it. Apparently, the swedish have something similiar to our april fools but extends for the whole month april. Crazy Europeans is all i have to say. Never the less, i still hold out hope that eventually i will be able to walk down to the local supermarket and pick up a TARDIS and travel into the past to stop George W. Bush from being born. Could be fun

Time Travel: Fact or Fiction

2010-04-10T04:08:00.000-07:00

A recently published journal article by Swedish Professor Sven Yergson has caused an uproar in the scientific community with his 10 year long study coming to a close with contreversal results. He published that he "found that time was simply a wall which could be punctured", claiming to have sent his own watch forward in time 5 minutes.

An independant group of scientists are currently looking into the Sven's findings, though the initial statement said that "Professor Yergson has produced the unthinkable with all evidence to convince any critic".

What do i think of this? Is it possible that in the future, we could all be flying around like Dr Who? I don't know but i'm definitely going to keep an eye on any upcoming information.

Totally Unfinished Song Lyrics and Chords

2010-04-06T17:54:00.000-07:00

These will most likely be all editted until i feel like they are right but might as well put them up

Intro

Dm Am

Verse

C Gm

Walking down the long road

F Am

Weary under my heavy load

C Gm

The dark and heavy cloud

F Am

Sky wreathed in sombre shroud

C Gm

I long for that joyous day

F Am Dm

When you will come and stay

Chorus

Gm Cm Dm

The deeper you dig, the darker it gets

Gm Cm Dm

Dig into my mind and see where it goes

Gm Cm Dm

Down into the darkness, the only way out

Gm Cm Dm Bb

Close your eyes and hope

Verse

C Gm

(Line)

F Am

(Line)

C Gm

(Line)

F Am

(Line)

C Gm

(Line)

F Am Dm

(Line)

Chorus

Gm Cm Dm

The deeper you dig, the darker it gets

Gm Cm Dm

Dig into my mind and see where it goes

Gm Cm Dm

Down into the darkness, the only way out

Gm Cm Dm Bb

Close your eyes and hope

Outro

Dm Am

Song Chords

2010-04-06T03:21:00.000-07:00

Intro

Dm Am

Verse

C Gm F

Chorus

Bb Cm Dm Gm

Mix them up and see how it goes. I'm going to try and work out some lyrics so they'll come along sometime

Paintings

2010-03-26T16:43:00.000-07:00

Space - One of the many frontiers

2010-03-25T05:53:00.001-07:00

This might not go anywhere but i thought i'd put this up here just in case someone wants to tell me what they think of it.

________________________________

He gazed out of the forward view port at the asteroid field set on a black background of distant stars. As always, Dane felt a sense of smallness looking out at the utter vastness of space. No matter how much was known and explored, there would always be those countless worlds that had been witness to none of the rapid expansion of humanity across the stars.

He turned to the one of the dozen men and women sitting at various stations around the well-lit bridge. “Anything yet, Vari? He asked.

The silver haired man shook his head without looking up from his screen. “Nothing, Captain. The sensors are clear.”

“Keep looking,” Dane said, rather pointlessly. All of his crew would perform their duties to the best of their abilities. He had flown with them from close to two years now and trusted them like a family.

It was an apt metaphor. The hundred or so souls aboard the Vagrant were a tight knit group. Of course, there were the occasional feuds and bitter feelings but what family could say to be perfect? Dane believed that deep space either brought you together or tore you apart, and he had worked hard to make sure that his crew were about of the former.

The bridge door slid open with a whoosh of escaping air and his daughter walked onto in. Dressed in a tight fitting flight suit, she drew the sideways glances of several of the men and women on working on the bridge. Dane was well aware of the whisperings that went around the crew, though he chose not to voice his opinion over them. He would let her daughter live her life how she would, making her own mistakes and learning from them. He would be there always but he didn’t want to smother her.

“Sarai,” Dane said, “Shouldn’t you be down in the launch bay?” He raised his thick eyebrow. Even if she was her daughter, she should know that he expected her to be as prepared as everyone else onboard.

“My Raptor is out of this one, Dad. Grant found a micro fault starting to form on the cockpit.” Grant was the mechanic whose duty was to keep the half dozen Raptor fighters up and running. “He doesn’t have the parts right now to fix it so I’m stuck on board.”

Dane could not help but smile at the look of dismay that flickered over Sarai’s face. She loved nothing more than flying her Raptor through the limitless expanse of space, something that she must have picked up from her father. They both loved to fly their ships, though he preferred the bigger, steadier types while she cherished speed and manoeuvrability.

“Come and stand by me then,” He said, holding out a hand towards her. Sarai walked up to stand next to him and Dane put his arm around her shoulders. Together they looked out the wide view port.

They stood that way for a couple of minutes, the faint buzz of conversation around the bridge behind them and the black expanse of space before them.

Sarai eventually turned her head towards her father and asked, “You sure about this, Dad?”

“As much as I ever am, girl. You getting bored already after a few minutes?” Dane mock growled.

“Just sick of your company,” she replied, poking his stomach with a finger.

“Stop that or you’ll have everyone poking me,” he said, maintaining a serious expression on his face.

“They wouldn’t want to when you keep such a sour expression on your face.”

He gave Sarai a small shove, letting a smile creep onto his face. “Not sure how I managed to put up with you this long.”

Sarai opened her mouth to reply but Vari interrupted their bantering by shouting, “We’ve got contacts emerging on the far side of the asteroid belt, Captain.”

“How many?”

The man leaned forward closer to his screen, waiting for a few seconds before replying. “Looks like only three.” The older man looked up at Dane. “Just like you said there would be.”

Dane took a deep breath, aware that every eye on the bridge was looking at him. Once again he would send his crew into danger, just like he had dozens, possibly hundreds, of times before. Yet, despite this experience, he always feared that his decisions would bring them some hurt.

He exhaled slowly and started calling out orders.

“Darius, tell the Raptors to launch. Miriam, get the Vagrant moving forward at full speed. Jai, bring the guns up to power. Sarai, find some place out of the way for a bit would you?”

His daughter gave him a business-like nod, once again serious. “Yes, Dad.”

The twin engines of the Vagrant started to propel the ship forward towards the asteroids, sending a steady thrum through the floor, a comforting sensation to its captain. Five splinters of metal strapped to a single engine, the fast Raptor fighters that Sarai so loved to fly, spewed from the launch bay atop the ship and zoomed out ahead.

“Vari, how’s it looking?” Dane asked.

“They’ve spotted us and are turning away. They aren’t moving that fast though.”

Dane nodded. “Good. Darius, tell the Raptors to close in with those ships but to stay out of shooting range until we get there. Just make their presence felt.”

The man called out an acknowledgement before turning to speak into a microphone.

Already, the Vagrant was dodging between the large rocks that made up the asteroid belt. Smaller rocks started to bang into the hull, their impacts making a steady tattoo against the hardened metal.

Dane peered forward, squinting so as to see further. He could see the glow of engines on the other side of the asteroid belt. The swifter flying ones were the Raptor’s circling the newly arrived ships like insects. The three other ships were huge, even bigger than the Vagrant, and, if Dane’s intelligence was correct, filled with a cargo wealthier than anything that he had ever seen before.

The occasional flare of fire shot out from the hulls of the three cargo ships, their guns trying to shoot down the Raptor’s, but the manoeuvrable fighters dodged the fire easily enough.

“Jai, as soon as we are out of the asteroids, target the nearest ship’s engines. I want it dead in the water.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The Vagrant closed in with the quickly with the slower ships, passing through the narrow belt of asteroids. The sudden thump-thump-thump of the ships guns speaking rocked the bridge. Dane watched as the fiery projectiles smashed into one of the engines of the nearest cargo ship. Something volatile must have been hit, for rather than just spluttering broken to inactivity, the fire of the engines expanded and exploded. The ship was blown into a fast spin.

“Captain, we are being hailed by all three ships,” called Faran, from his seat behind the complicated board of communication equipment.

“Broadcast an open signal for their surrender,” Dane replied. “Tell them that if they don’t stop in the next ten seconds, our next shots won’t be for their engines.”

It was really an empty threat. Dane would never wantonly kill men and women for no reason than to make a point. But a good threat could cower most people, especially after the spectacular explosion that had rocked the still spinning ship.

Dane started counting down in his head but only got to five before both other ships started to slow down, their engines stopping. All together, it had only taken a few minutes but it looked to be a very profitable few minutes.

He turned to look over to where his daughter had taken up a position at the back of the bridge. He gave a big grin, which she returned with interest.

“Looking forward to seeing what we’ve won?” he asked across the bridge.

Sarai’s grin widened in reply.

* * *

Dane walked across the docking tube from the Vagrant to the first of the cargo ships, one going by the name of Long Haul. He walked over by himself, twenty of his armed crew having already made their way over and locked down the ship and its people. Now he got the chance to walk aboard and survey what he had won.

His boots clicked steadily against the floor until he reached the far end of the docking tube. There, he raised a hand to knock onto the heavy metal door.

A face appeared before the small, round hatch in the docking hatch. Dane grinned and the face disappeared. Seconds later, the hatch opened and Turner Del beckoned him inside.

“It’s all clear in here, Captain,” he said in his gruff voice. He held a long barrelled rifle easily over one shoulder.

“Crew?” Dane asked as Turner shut the hutch door behind him.

“Got them all in one of the bunk rooms under guard. Didn’t offer any resistance at all. Meek little gig, this was.”

“That’s how I like it. That way no one gets hurt.”

“As you say. I’ll show you to the hold then?”

Dane nodded his assent and was quickly lead deeper into the ship. The corridors where straight, intersecting each other at regular intervals. This forward section of the Long Haul was designed to house the crew compartments, bridge, kitchen and all the other rooms that were necessary for long space travel. The rear of the vessel, if it was as made to the standard design of cargo ships, would be given over entirely to the cargo space.

Turner approached a door at the end of a corridor guarded by one of Dane’s crew, armed similarly to Turner. The woman nodded to Dane as he passed her, mouthing a polite “Captain,” as she did.

Dane nodded back and walked into the hold.

The cargo hold was a massive cavern stretching from hull to hull and it was filled, with the exception of the narrow walkways, with huge round barrels. Dane let go of a small whistle in appreciation.

“That looks like first grade fuel, Turner.”

“Sure is. This lot will fetch a bloody fortune on the black market.”

“If we can get it all aboard the Vagrant, that is.”

Turner gave a small smile, little more than an up turning of the lips. “I thought perhaps we’d just take this vessel. Save the lads the trouble of carting it back across. Plus, we’re pirates so we’re meant to steal ships.”

“To bloody right we are,” replied Dane emphatically. “Well, if this ships under control, do you want to take most of your lads back onto the Vagrant and we can go over to the next cargo ship.”

Turner gave a lazy salute. “Aye, Captain.”

Dane stayed where he was while Turner peeled away and walked back into the ship. Dane walked forward slowly, running a hand along the smooth sides of one of the three metre high barrels. A single one of these could keep the engines of his ship running for close to a month. The high potential liquid within came from mines around stars, which extracted it somehow from the very centre of the burning sphere. All Dane knew was that without this substance, space travel would never have been able to exist.

Turner’s idea had been a good one. They’d commandeer this ship and then could take it to a number of worlds that Dane knew where a buyer would pay good money for the ship and cargo both. Even split between the whole crew of the Vagrant, each man and woman onboard would earn a significant amount.

Thinking good thoughts, Dane turned around and left the huge cargo hold, intent on seeing what other riches his raid had brought him.

* * *

The second cargo ship was similarly filled with fuel containers. Dane’s excitement at the prospect of such a return kept a constant grin splitting his face nearly in two. Sarai had joined him for his tour of this ship and she had been infected by her father’s happiness.

After seeing that the crew of this ship, badly named Foresight, Dane returned to the Vagrant. Leaving only a small crew to oversee the obedience of the Foresight’s crew, Dane directed his ship to disengage the docking tube and make its way over to the last of the three cargo ships.

This one, identified as the Night’s Joy, was the ship that Dane had ordered his ship to fire upon. It took awhile for the Vagrant to match the spin that the Night Joy still spun in. But Dane’s crew were highly skilled and this little bit of challenging manoeuvring was completed without any dramas.

Within a couple of hours of boarding the first cargo ship, Dane stepped onto the last of them, flanked by Sarai and Turner, the latter still carrying his rifle. An armed member of the crew, a frown creasing his face, confronted them.

“Captain,” he said, “You’re going to want to see this.”

“What is it?” Dane asked.

The crewman just shook his head. “Best if you see it firsthand.”

Dane shared a curious look with his daughter, who just arced an eyebrow and inclined her head in the direction of the crewman.

“Lead on then,” said Dane.

They followed the man down through the straight corridors of the cargo ship, its design identical to the other two ships. They reached the cargo hold and, as soon as they walked out into it, they saw what the man had been referring too.

The huge cavernous cargo hold was empty except for a single thing. It looked like a cage except the bars were made out of what looked like shadow, but could obviously not be. The cage itself was nothing compared to what was inside it though. Dane couldn’t say what shape it was for it kept on changing. Some of the shapes were familiar – animals of some description – but others where totally foreign.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Dane exclaimed.

He turned to look at the man who had led them here. He shrugged and said, “Got no idea, Captain. We found it here with a couple of priest looking people. They got cloaks and tattoos on their faces and that.”

“And where are they now?” Dane demanded.

The man jerked his head over to one side of the cargo hold where a trio of crewmembers were aiming their weapons at a couple of cowled individuals.

Dane made his way over to them. One of the armed crewmembers looked his way and she said, “Watch out, they were trying to cast some spell before.”

The captain looked closely and he could see that one of the cowled individuals was bleeding from the mouth.

“You hit him?” he asked

“He was mumbling something in some dark speech, Captain. Couldn’t let him cast a spell,” the crewwoman said stubbornly.

Dane refrained himself from replying. He knew that a lot of the men and women who crewed spaceships could be very superstitious. There were a lot of strange things out there in the galaxy. However, he had yet to see any real existence of magic or its equivalents.

He threw a look over his shoulder at the shadow cage and the impossible thing inside. Perhaps the woman was right about not taking chances in this instance.

It was Sarai who stepped forward between the pointed guns and the prisoners to ask the question that they were all thinking. “What on earth is that?” she demanded, pointing at the shadow cage in the middle of the hold.

Neither of the two priests answered, rather just glaring around at their captors.

Sarai raised her fist as if to strike them but Dane grabbed it before she could land the blow. When she threw an angry look his way, he said, “Not this way and definitely not here.” Releasing his grip on her arm, he turned towards Turner. “Get that…cage and these priests onto the Vagrant…”

“You are taking them on?” burst out Sarai.

“I’m not going to simply abandon such a mystery, girl. I have no idea what it’s worth. Because you insist on speaking, you can organise the shipment of all the other ship’s crews onto this one and get a pair of skeleton crews ready to fly them. I want to be gone from here as soon as possible.”

Dane cast a final look at the shadow cage and the shape-shifting beast within.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

Short Poem - Dawn

2010-03-23T00:08:00.000-07:00

With the rising of the sun and the coming of the dawn,
The veil of nightmarish darkness is torn.
To reveal the strewn bodies of our enemy dead,
Severed from the vibrant pulse of life’s living thread.

Death walks beneath the skies golden eye,
Friend and foe alike, they all will die.
I wonder what spared me the final farewell,
What kept me living in this man-made hell?

I was watching the second episode of the Pacific and just came up with a little poem that sort of speaks to me about what it was all about.

Train - Hey Soul Sista

2010-03-22T04:34:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to this song a bit today and i just say that it has been resonating with something inside of me. I know its really sappy and whatnot but i seriously dont care (I've always suspected that i'm a bit of girl)

Go here to listen to it:

http://www.myspace.com/train

Short Story of the Day

2010-03-21T00:38:00.000-07:00

In a far away land there lived a princess. She lived in a grand palace on top of a hill and lived a life of luxury. There were great banquets every night with endless dancing and beautiful music. The princess wore dresses made of gold and silver and had diamond rings on all her fingers. She rode fine horses and had dozens of friends. The princess had everything.

Living in a small house in the shadow of the palace was a little girl. Her family worked in the fields and were very poor. She wore the clothes handed down from her older sister. She had to get up before dawn and work until dusk with only soup to feed her.

One day, a travelling magician arrived at the palace. The princess held a seven-day feast in his honour. Every lord and lady of the land came to celebrate with the princess and the magician. There was endless dancing and music and food.

At the end of the seven days, the magician approached the princess and told her to ask him for anything and he would give it to her.

The princess thought for a minute before answering.

“I have a palace and beautiful clothes, diamond rings and handsome friends. I have so many things but none of them make me truly happy. I ask you to give me double of everything I have already. I want a bigger, grander palace, dresses made out of pearls and my life to be filled with every beautiful thing.”

The magician bowed to the princess and waved his hand and it was as the princess had said.

The magician left the palace and was walking along the road when he saw the little girl working in the field. He watched her struggling to hoe the hard ground and felt pity for her. He walked up to the little girl and introduced himself as a powerful magician and asked her to name anything and he would give it to her.

The little girl looked around. Her mother and father, brothers and sisters, were all hard at work in the fields.

“I work every day and don’t have enough time to play with my friends. We never have enough food at home and it’s always soup. All I want is to play with my friends in the afternoon and eat something other than soup.”

The magician smiled and waved his hand.

As time went on, both the princess and little girl grew old.

The dresses no longer fitted the princess, the rings rusted and all her friends moved away when the music and dancing stopped. The palace grew empty and quiet. The princess locked herself away in a high tower and wasted away.

The little girl still worked every day but always found time to do the things she wanted. She married a gentle man and their children grew up and then they had children.

The magician came back and visited both the princess and the girl.

He went to the palace first and went up to the locked tower door. The princess would not let him see her and shouted for him to go away. He asked her if she liked his gift but she wouldn’t answer.

He went out of the palace and found the girl, now an old lady surrounded by grandchildren. The magician asked her whether she had liked his gift.

“I must confess that I have often wondered if you gave me anything at all. I saw how you gave the princess all those things and yet I have not felt like your magic changed my life at all. I have still eaten soup nearly everyday and had to work hard to support my family.”

The magician gave a mysterious smile and leaned in to whisper into her ear.

“I performed no magic for you. Magic cannot give you anything that you cannot give yourself. Happiness is not about what you have but who you have.”

The magician bid her farewell and left that land, never to return.

________________________

I'm wanting to try and get a story out here every so often. There might not be any quality control though :P

Awesome Building

2010-03-18T23:12:00.000-07:00

If you are ever wondering what a real library should look like, just take a look at the Kansas City Library

The Pacific (TV mini series)

2010-03-18T15:44:00.000-07:00

This new miniseries is a follow up on the totally awesome Band of Brothers. Based around 3 American soldiers fighting in the Pacific, this show (if its anything like its predecessor) will show all angles of what it was like to fight in World War 2.

What i really love about this show and Band of Brothers, is that the exploits depicted are actually based on the real life accounts of a select group of people who were actually there. The main characters are actually based on real people. Every episode starts with these old men being interviewed and telling the audience what they were thinking and how they felt.

So far, only one episode has come out but i'm looking forward to the next one.

War is Hell

Sun Boy and Moon Girl

2010-03-16T23:28:00.000-07:00

Tomlin stared through the bars of his cage and waited for Shani to come. As the last glimmers of daylight shone red on the distant horizon, he tenderly fingered the swollen flesh around his eye. It was his father’s reward for not completing his chores as fast as he would have liked. Tomlin winced at his own touch but continued to gently probe until he was certain there was no permanent damage. Bruises came and went, and the swelling would go down. Not like the broken finger, which his father had relented to set after Tomlin could do nothing but weep from the pain all day. Not like the scars on his back from his father’s knotted rope.

He was glad when the night came and he would be locked in his cage outside the house. At night, he was free from his father’s hatred. And Shani would come and talk to him.

A smile lit Tomlin’s face as a pale white figure dressed in dirty rags crept across the courtyard. As silent as a ghost and as wary as a rabbit, the figure danced from shadow to shadow. He saw the figure look apprehensively towards the dying sunlight more than once. Tomlin sometimes wondered if Shani was more afraid of daylight than being caught by his father.

He waited with patience for the day to die. As the silvery light of the moon took hold, he reached out through the bars towards Shani. “The moon has come. Will you play with me?”

Shani flittered final metres across the courtyard to Tomlin’s cage. “Hello, sun boy,” she said as she grasped his hands in her own pale ones. “I’ve brought you a present.” With a big grin, she pulled out an empty bottle from her torn clothes and held it up for inspection.

“What is it?” Tomlin asked.

“I caught a star underground,” she replied proudly. “But when I put the lid on the bottle, the light went out.”

Shani had once told Tomlin about the place where she lived. A place deep underground, she had said, with caves and hidden treasures. A place where sun couldn’t find her and people wouldn’t frighten her. To Tomlin, who had never been beyond the walls of his father’s house, the caves and tunnels beneath the city seemed a magical place.

Shani was always bringing him gifts, crafting stories around them. She believed her stories and Tomlin could not say they were false. Perhaps, deep underground, there were stars.

“What does it do, Shani?” he asked.

“Why, it is magic, sun boy!” she laughed quietly. “Open the lid of the bottle and the star will come out and grant you a wish!”

Tomlin held out his hands reverently as the pale-skinned girl lowered the bottle into them. He brought it carefully through the bars and clutched it to his chest. “Thank you, Shani,” he whispered.

Shani smiled and twirled around. “And do you have a present for me, sun boy?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied.

Gently, he put down the star-bottle and moved over to the small box in which he slept. He threw aside the worn blankets and pulled out his gift. He walked back over to the cage bars and thrust the item into Shani’s waiting hands.

“I took the bread from the kitchen today,” he said. “It doesn’t have stars in it, but it tastes alright.”

Shani sniffed the bread, much like Tomlin’s father’s dogs did, and nibbled off a corner of the bread. She screwed up her face, just like she always did, and said, “Sun food is not good for a moon girl.” But nevertheless, she quickly stuff the food into her mouth, causing Tomlin to laugh at the spray of crumbs.

Shani finished her gift and wiped the crumbs off her clothes. “What should we do tonight, sun boy?”

It was at that moment that a dark shadow detached itself from the house doorway and took quick giant steps towards the cage. He heard Shani gasp, but he could not take his eyes away from his father’s face. Those dark eyes smouldered with a hate that Tomlin had never understood, but now the fires were blazing fiercely. Like one the demons his father said Tomlin deserved to be eaten by, Abram Holls loomed over his son’s cage.

Tomlin was frozen with fear. His father had never caught him and Shani before but the last time he had looked this angry, his father had broken his finger. He clutched his hands to his chest and whimpered.

“Boy, you disgust me,” came Abram’s slurring voice. He must have been drinking; trying to forget the evil that Tomlin had done, he would say. “Consorting with scum like that.” Tomlin turned his head in the direction that his father’s finger was pointing accusingly. Shani stood there, frozen like him, large eyes wide with terror.

The sight of his friend standing frightened under the dark eyes of his father caused him to step forward, his own boyish anger igniting. “You leave her alone…”

Quick and as deadly as lightning, Abram stepped forward and grabbed Tomlin through the bars of the cage. “Don’t even bloody speak to me, you little shit!” Abram roared. With a strength fuelled by anger, Tomlin’s father threw him backwards, tumbling through the air until he hit the far cage bars. Tomlin’s head met the metal bars with a solid crack and pain flooded his body.

He heard sounds coming from as if they were a great distance away, the angry roar of his father, the frightened screaming of Shani, the cage doors opening and closing. He tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond.

“Shani…” he breathed.

A cold hand touched his head. “Sun boy?”

It was Shani’s voice but the words seemed to fade into the distance. He could hear her speaking but couldn’t make out the words. Slowly, the sound faded away.

He felt a cool wind rushing over his skin. He vaguely remembered something, someone, someplace. But like a wisp of cloud, it was gone from his mind, dissipating into nothing. He laid still, the sun bright even through his eyelids. Everything felt right.

“Sun boy? You awake?”

The voice was familiar, like a distant memory. He opened his eyes and gazed up at the rich blue of the sky. Turning his head to one side, he saw the girl sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Sun boy, you are awake!” There was joy in her voice. The girl leaned forward to loom over him. “You were going and I followed you. I swallowed the star!”

“Star?” his voice croaked. What she was saying made no sense to him, while at the same time it seemed oddly familiar. For an instant, there was something in the back of his mind…a bottle…then it was gone.

The girl beamed, showing white teeth that almost seemed to blend into her pale skin. “The underground star. You were going and I followed you.” She looked up shyly at the sky and added, “It’s very bright here.”

He didn’t understand much of what she was saying, but she was right about it being bright here. He turned his head to look back up at the sky. It was a beautiful thing, without a cloud to be seen.

“Where?” he said, this time with a stronger voice. “Who?”

The girl’s face appeared above his own, a worried look wrinkling it. “You are Sun boy and I am Shani. We have gone, that is where. Don’t you know?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know anything.

“Then you shall look and tell me what you see,” the girl said.

She grabbed one of his arms in both her hands and pulled him up. He shut his eyes as a spell of dizziness hit him, sending the world reeling around him in circles. He felt the girl come under his shoulder and support him. When the dizziness had passed, he cautiously opened his eyes and beheld his surroundings.

They were standing on a square platform made of wooden planks, with a single mast and sail rising from the middle. The wind he had felt was filling the sail and pushing them forward. In every direction, stretched the deep blue of a sea, calm and motionless despite the breeze. The only mar in the blue was the dark line lying beneath the water in front and behind them. He moved forward and looked down to see the railway track only a few centimetres beneath the cool water. He dropped to his stomach and looked underneath the wooden platform and saw the wheels rolling smoothly on the track.

Shani came to lie next to him. “We have gone from the cage, see? No more people, or city. We are here and we are going, yes?”

There was a question in her voice, one that he couldn’t answer. So he just shrugged.

It bothered him that he couldn’t seem to piece anything together. This girl, Shani, told him that his name was Sun boy but he couldn’t remember being called anything. He could not remember how he had gotten here, or even if he should have come from somewhere else. Everything was brand new and familiar at the same time.

He turned his head to look at the girl lying next to him. She had put a hand in the water, her fingers leaving a trail behind them as the sail propelled the platform onwards.

“Shani?” She looked up at him as he said her name. She seemed to have more answers than him, even though he didn’t seem to understand most of what she said. He picked out the first question in his head. “How did we get here?”

Once again, the girl’s pale face wrinkled in concern. “You don’t remember?”

He gave his head a small shake, some how afraid that he was giving the wrong answer.

She looked down. “The man demon made you hit your head. He threw me in the cage. You were hurt. I couldn’t help you. You were…leaking.” He watched as a tear escaped from her eye, rolling down her face to fall into the blue water below. “I took the bottle and opened it. I felt the star going into my belly and wished to go with you, so you wouldn’t be alone.” Another tear followed the first. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I was hurt?” he asked. He didn’t feel hurt.

Shani reached up to place a wet hand on his head. “Hurt here, sun boy. But it’s gone away now. All gone.”

He touched his hair where Shani had said he’d been hurt but felt nothing different. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

Shani sprang to her feet with a sudden energy that surprised him. “This is good! We can go and not have to worry about the man demon. Where are we going, sun boy?”

He sat up and looked up at Shani. “How should I know? I don’t seem to know anything!” A touch of anger crept into his voice.

Shani gave a laugh and twirled around on one leg. “Then we can go anywhere! Where do you want to go, sun boy?”

He cocked his head to one side and thought about that. He didn’t know where he was or who he was or what he was doing there. Perhaps Shani was right. Perhaps it didn’t matter what he had been in the past, only about what would happen in the future.

He stood up next to Shani and placed his small hands on his hips. “I am Sun Boy and I say that we are going to get across this sea,” he started with determination. “When we are there, we will do…” he hesitated, not sure what they would do.

“Anything we want!” supplied Shani with a loud cry.

“Anything!” Sun Boy shouted back.

They sat back down, arms around each other’s shoulders and looked forward and waited for the horizon to change. They sat there for a long time, only moving when they needed to scoop up water for a drink. Shani seemed content to sit in silence and Sun Boy looked so intently ahead that he didn’t seem to notice. The bright sun slowly fell beneath the water, its final rays glittering on the waves. As the silver moonlight took over the sky above, and a thousand stars popped into existence, Shani gave a sigh.

Sun Boy looked over at her, curious. “What is it?” he asked.

Her head was back as she looked up at the dark sky above. “The sun is too bright,” she said. “I am a moon girl and the stars are my friends. Just like you are a sun boy. We are different.”

Sun Boy craned his head backwards and looked up at the full moon suspended above them. “You came from the moon?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “The moon came down from the sky and saved me.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Saved you? From what?” he asked.

For a long time Shani didn’t reply, just continuing to stare up into the sky. Sun Boy thought that perhaps she had chosen to ignore the question. He looked down from the sky and went back to staring ahead into the darkness.

When Shani started to speak, it was so softly that Sun Boy had to strain to hear it. “The moon saved me from people. They said evil things about me…did evil things to me. They laughed and pointed and drove me away. But the moon saved me from them. I found a place underground to call home.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wish…”

“…that things were different,” Sun Boy finished, half to himself. Deep down within himself, he knew that there had been something that had caused him great pain. He couldn’t remember what, but it was a feeling that he felt in his heart that he knew to be true.

For long hours, they sat next to each other, each lost in their own thoughts. Sun Boy thought of a past he couldn’t remember and of a destination unknown. Shani the moon girl stared upwards, ignoring the deep dark secrets locked away in her memory. They stayed like that until, one after the other, they closed their eyes and fell asleep huddled against each other.

When Sun Boy opened his eyes, the brilliant light of the sun greeted him. He felt the weight of the gently breathing Shani leaning against his side. They had slumped down onto the wooden planks together and one of her arms had wound its way across his body, holding him to her. For a moment, he considered staying there; safe in the arms of a friend, but his wakening must have roused Shani, for she opened her own eyes. She quickly extracted herself from Sun Boy’s side and stood up, squinting in the sunlight.

Sun Boy sat up and stretched, listening to the gentle flap of the sail and the soft clacking of the wheels going over the rails. He froze, hands still held up in the air, as a marvellous sight greeted his eyes.

Spanning from left to right as far as he could see was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. The white beaches that rose from the water sparkled like ten thousand lights in the sun. The green rolling hills were sprinkled with patches of red, blue, orange and countless other colours, flowers blooming with unrivalled elegance. The tall trees stood strewn here and there, tall and proud and lush with dark green foliage, sentinels over the ground beneath their branches.

All this Sun Boy took in with wide eyes, feeling a desire to leap through the grass and flowers and run over the hills. Just the sight of it seemed to lift his soul and wake a longing to be there forever.

“Look, Sun Boy! Look there!” Shani cried, pointing forward.

He looked to where she was pointing and saw the small cottage for the first time. Its walls were as white as the sand that it stood on and from the chimney amongst the red tiles curled a thin stream of white smoke. The railway track ran straight up to the doorway of the cottage and stopped.

“The sun lands are very beautiful,” Shani stated simply.

Sun Boy could only nod in agreement.

He pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand at the front of the platform and Shani joined him. Together, they waited as the sail propelled them the final distance through the water and up onto the white sandy shore. The wind that had been a constant force the entire journey slowed gently to a stop and the wheeled platform came to halt just a couple of metres in front of the cottage door.

Sun Boy felt as if he was in a dream as jumped down onto the sand with a crunch. He tried to look everywhere at once; it all seemed to call to him.

“Hello,” called Shani as she jumped down beside Sun Boy. “Hello, is anyone there?”

And then she was there in the doorway of the cottage, an angel of heaven beaming a smile as bright as the sun. If the land called to him, then just the sight of this woman called to him a thousandfold more. She was dressed simply, in a blue dress that complimented her lovely skin and warm face. And Sun Boy knew with all of his heart. He knew her.

“Mother?” he asked timidly.

The woman fell down onto her knees and held out her arms and suddenly Sun Boy was being embraced. He couldn’t remember crossing the distance that had been between them but he couldn’t care less. Tears, both of joy and of long held pain, flowed down his face and he said over and over, “Mother, mother, mother.”

Sun Boy felt the comforting arms that surrounded him and heard the soft whisperings that he made. “My boy, my lovely beautiful boy. I love you. I have and always will. I love you, my beautiful boy.”

When his mother slowly drew herself up, he clung to her, afraid that she would leave. But she was only standing straight and left her hands resting gently on his shoulders. He looked up at his mother’s face as she looked over him.

“You must be my boy’s dear friend,” she said, her voice like music to Sun Boy’s ears. “You did a most courageous deed, coming here. I know you, Shani, and I know what you fear. But you are the moon’s now and they cannot hurt you while you belong to the night.”

“But these are the sun lands,” Shani replied. “I do not belong here. The moon doesn’t come here.”

“And that is why you must go back and take my son with you. It is not his time to come here yet. I shall continue to wait but I hope it will be many years until he makes this journey again.”

Sun Boy listened as Shani and his mother talked of things he could not understand. It seemed to him that his mother was sending him away after he had just found her.

“What are you saying?” he asked with fear quivering his voice.

His mother looked down lovingly and smiled. “It is not your time and you cannot stay. You have to leave, my darling son, but know that I love you and always will. Go and wake and find a new world for yourself. And tell Abram to forgive himself.”

He clung to his mother tightly, as she kissed his forehead. “No! No, no, no…”

“…no, no.”

“Tomlin, please don’t go! Stay with me! Please, don’t go. I’m sorry, Tomlin. I’m sorry for everything. Please stay with me.” His father’s voice was close by and he felt the strong arms that held him.

“Father?” Tomlin mumbled as he opened his eyes. His father’s face was close to his own, wide eyes filled with tears. Behind him, he could see Shani’s white face, looking pale against the dark night sky, peering down at him. He saw the secret smile she had on her face and felt his lips curve upward to answer with one of his own.

“Tomlin! I’m so sorry! Are you all right? Tell me do anything and I’ll do it,” his father cried as fresh tears streamed down his rough face.

Like a vague memory, the words came back to him. He remembered a white beach and a smiling face…it was gone, but the words stayed with him.

“Forgive yourself, father,” Tomlin said.

Shani crept away from her friend and his father. He no longer seemed to be the demon man anymore, Tomlin’s words having broken down the wall he had constructed around his heart. She crept away under the moonlight and danced through the silent streets.

Hell Train

2010-03-16T23:26:00.000-07:00

I was sure, so very sure, that something with incredibly wrong. I frowned at the open train door in front of me, not quite remembering where I was or how I’d got there. My mind raced, trying to put together the pieces, but no answers came. Perhaps it was nothing.

I surveyed my surroundings but beyond the small concrete platform there was nothing to see. The darkness was more than just the absence of any light, for light streamed from many of the long trains windows. However, all illumination spluttered and died in the black, absorbed into shadows. I turned a full circle around, studying my surroundings carefully, but it didn’t seem strange. I had a feeling in the depths of my soul that this was how it was meant to be.

Up and down the long length of the train I gazed. It stretched from the darkness on my right to the darkness on my left, with no start or end that I could see. The metal sides cut a straight line through the black. Dozens of windows along the train flickered with activity, some showing shadows against curtains and others casting red, green, blue or orange light.

A small part of my mind whispered again that something was wrong but I couldn’t work out what.

My attention was jerked back to the open doorway as a figure stepped into view. It wasn’t the well-tailored suit or the handsome face that disconcerted me, it was the leathery red wings that rose from the man’s back that threw me off. I knew I was confused and unsure about where I was or what was going on, but I was certain that wings weren’t natural.

The man smiled at me, revealing sharp pointed teeth that were more fangs than anything, and beckoned me to board the train with both hands. “Get on, Andrew. We are only waiting for you.”

The man’s voice was normal, his face was normal and his clothing was normal, but my gaze kept flickering back to his red wings. He must have saw where my eyes lingered, for he looked over his back at his wings. With a snap of his fingers, they disappeared and I found myself blinking, wondering what had just happened.

“Board the train, Andrew. We must get going.”

I cast one last look around the small platform and the surrounding darkness. I saw no other options open to me. I took a step forward onto the train. The doors snapped closed behind me and immediately I felt the train begin to move. I shifted half around to look out the door windows but the platform had already disappeared, leaving only an empty darkness outside.

“Welcome aboard, my friend,” the man said, clapping a friendly hand on my shoulder. I turned around and was confronted with his toothy grin. “You were the last, so we shall make good time.”

“Who are you?” I asked, the first of many questions that filled my head. It was simply the one that managed to push its way out of my mouth before any others.

The man’s grin widened, seeming to split his face nearly in two. “Why, I’m your guide, Andrew. I’m here to see to it that you are comfortable. You have the special privilege having a personalised room and I’m here to get you to it.”

“Ah…thanks,” I replied hesitantly.

The man gave a small bow, flourishing his arms to both sides. “If it would please you, follow me.” I frowned at him for a moment, for there was something odd about how his words and how he grinned. Nevertheless, I stepped forward and followed him down the carriage.

It was only then that I really started to look around the interior of the train. The carriage that I had stepped onto was empty, a hollow metal tube with nothing inside. Light bulbs swung loosely from their wires, moving with the subtle swaying of the train. On the far end of the carriage there was a door, a finely crafted wooden door that stood out in stark contrast to the metal surrounding it.

The man reached out to grab hold of the silver doorknob, but stopped when I asked him, “Do you have a name?”

For the briefest of moments, a fiery light flashed before my eyes. I screwed them shut and when I opened them, nothing had changed. “Teufel. You can call me Teufel. Now, come along and I’ll show you to your room.”

Teufel turned the doorknob and thrust the door open. Beyond did not seem so much like a train rather than the hall of a grand mansion. The polished walls gleamed, adorned with exquisite paintings. The plush carpet felt soft underfoot as I stepped through the door after my guide. On the right side of the corridor, windows showed the passing blackness outside the train. Straight ahead at the end of the passage was another door, presumably leading to another carriage.

However, my attention was drawn to my left to the closed doors. I point at them and asked, “What’s behind them, Teufel?”

The suited man frowned as he replied. “Our other passengers each have their own room, specially designed just for their needs.” At this last part, the frown turned back into a toothy grin as if he’d made some joke. “I’m sure you don’t want to trouble them, Andrew. Come along with me and I’ll show you the room we’ve made for you.”

I ignored him, something inside of me wanting to look inside. Perhaps behind those shut doors was something that would make sense. The train, the black, Teufel…it was all wrong, so very wrong. I searched my mind, hunting for something or anything. I could remember back to when I was standing on the platform then nothing…

…there was a faint sensation of wind…

“Andrew, come along.” Teufel jolted me back to the moment. “Those doors are not for you.”

It was his demanding that did it for me. I felt my anger rising, though a small voice inside whispered that it was irrational, but perhaps it was rebelling at the idea of…something. I shook my head. Everything was so vague.

I placed my hand on one of the doors and pushed.

It wasn’t so much that I entered the room that the room came out and surrounded me. The doorframe seemed to expand and move past me as I stepped through, swallowing Teufel and me. The room itself, too, seemed about as miraculous as the idea of a moving doorway. It was so big that I could not imagine how it could have fitted into the train. Grand red carpet, white marble pillars and huge glass windows. Beyond them was the same endless darkness that had surrounded the train.

There was the old man standing in the middle of the large atrium, looking up at the ceiling and the dozens of bodies hanging from the ropes around their necks.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” whispered Teufel in my ear, making me jump at the sound.

The man must have heard me, for he looked down and turned around, giving off a cheerful wave as he did so. “Ho there, fellas!” the man boomed, his voice so loud and youthful that it belied his physical appearance. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place?”

I could only stare up at the bodies with their broken necks and floating shoes. Men, women and children, all them dead and hanging from the tall ceiling. I had no words to say, all I could do gaze open mouthed.

“Shut that trap of yours, fella, or perhaps I’ll do it for you.” The old man had walked closer. “Now, I gotta inquire as to why you’ve come into my abode.” It wasn’t so much a question than a demand.

“I wa…was just…,” I stuttered.

“He was curious,” said Teufel, saving me. He stepped past me and stood between the old man and me. “The curse of humankind, I would say.” There was that sharp-toothed grin that I was coming to know.

The man looked at Teufel, eyes opening in something that I could only describe as terror. “No, no, no. Why are you here?” The timbre of the man’s voice became shrill with fear.

“I’m not here for you, Jim. I was just showing Andrew here,” Teufel waved a hand at me, “to his own room but he just burst right in here. I fear he wants to know what you are doing, isn’t that right, Andrew?”

I just nodded, eyes darting from the old man to Teufel to the bodies.

The man gulped. “I…ah…Andrew?”

I tore my eyes away from the ceiling and forced them to stay on the old man.

“I guess I could say.” Some of the confidence came back into his voice. “Reckon I’d better start with me name. You can be calling me Jim. Dead Drop Jim, they called me back in the world. I guess the name suits.” I fought the urge to look upwards. “I lived my life and then boarded the train, much the same as you did. As for what I was doing, I guess you could just call it reflecting. Well, you see me for what I am, so what about you? Who are you, Andrew?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you on the train? It’s obvious why I’m here,” Jim pointed upwards. “I answered your question, now answer mine.”

I opened my mouth to reply but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know why I was on the train. I couldn’t…

…the endless rushing wind, the terrified screams, the chatter of bullets…

…I just didn’t know. I must have stood there for a while, trying to find some words to respond. Teufel poked me with a finger, wide grin plastered across his face. “You want to be going, Andrew?”

“Yeah…”

“Then come along. Go back to what you were doing, Jim.” The old man all but ran away from the two of us, or more truthfully, from Teufel. Teufel snapped his fingers and the room receded from around us. The doorway flashed past and the door slammed shut in front of me, leaving me back in the corridor.

Teufel’s hand grabbed my arm and pulled at me, making me stumble. “Now, I’ve been kind up to this point but no more detours, Andrew. Come with me.” For an instant, the wings grew from his back and fire danced in his eyes. They were there…then they were gone. With Teufel pulling me, all I could do was follow after him. My head was spinning and confused, I didn’t know what was going on so I tried not to think about anything.

We went through carriage after carriage, all of them with polished wooden walls and plush carpet. Each carriage had doors on the left hand side of the corridor; most of them shut but some were left open. I couldn’t help myself but peer into the depths of the rooms beyond.

One door opened to a large pool, but instead of being filled with water, it was filled with millions of notes. Lying on her back, drifting on the eddying money, was a lady in a swimsuit. She gazed upwards, whistling a tuneless song, as if it wasn’t strange to be floating on a million dollars.

Another door revealed not a large and spacious room, but rather one only the size of a wardrobe. The open door revealed thick steel bars blocking the way inside. The shaggy haired man inside had his back to the open door, hands pawing at the solid concrete wall. I glimpsed the bloodstains on the wall and his hands.

I put my head down and hurried past, not wanting to look any more at the man’s futile and self-harming actions.

There were other doors open to views both bizarre and normal. The only thing that remained the same with each was none of them looked like they belonged on a train.

My mind started to turn quicker. I knew that all of this was surpassingly strange but up until now, I had taken that for granted. Only as the train revealed more and more of its oddity did I start to think to ask myself questions. Why were things like this? What was going on? Who were those people? Where were we all going?

I quickened my step and grabbed Teufel by the shoulder, stopping him. I knew that he wasn’t what he appeared to be and that he knew more about what was going on than he had said.

I started with the last question that had come to my head. “Teufel, I need to know, just where are we going?”

The suited man didn’t turn around to face me. Rather, he just cocked his head to one side as if trying to get a better view of something. “Where?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I replied forcefully. “I came aboard this train having no idea where it was going and all I’ve seen is the weird and the eerie.” I took my hand off his shoulder and crossed my arms defiantly across my chest. “Tell me where we are going or I’ll not take another step after you.”

Teufel remained motionless and silent for so long that I thought that he wasn’t going to do anything. I resolved myself stubbornly to wait for an answer. I would not go anywhere until he told me what I wanted to know.

“Where, Andrew?” he said finally. “You want to know where?”

“Yes!” I replied angrily.

Teufel turned around with such startling speed that I took a step back without even meaning too. Or perhaps it was the changes to his face that made me do that. The human face that he had worn up to that point in time had cracked, leaving open lines zigzagging across his skin. In the depths of those wounds, I could see a faint red light flickering. But it was his eyes that seemed to swallow my gaze. They were like the black outside the train, a deep nothing filled only with an eternal emptiness. I don’t know how I knew, but those eyes wanted to stretch out and envelope me entire being.

“Where?” growled Teufel. His voice, too, had changed into a rough course sound that grated my ears. “We are all going to the Fire, my friend. To the Fire and Pain and Torment Eternal!”

“In short, Andrew, you are going to hell.”

Teufel smiled, a terrible unhuman smile full of sharp teeth. “But because I don’t want any trouble, you’ll be forgetting all that.” He snapped my fingers.

I found myself blinking, unsure of what had just happened. I looked up at my guides face, his features human and normal, though why they’d be otherwise I don’t know. Without saying a word, Teufel turned and continued walking down the train corridor and I found myself drawn along in his wake.

We kept on moving until Teufel stopped beside a shut door. He turned around and gestured for me to go through. “We’re here.”

“Here?” I repeated uncomprehendingly.

“This is your room.” He explained. “Where you’ll stay for the rest of the journey.”

I nodded in understanding. I took a couple of steps forward, placed my hand on the door and pushed. The room that opened to my eyes looked like it had been designed specifically for me.

It was a simple room, no fancy trimmings at all, just a square box with large windows. In the centre of the worn wooden floor was an easel, a large canvas with a half finished painting sitting on it. The table next to the easel was cluttered with a collection of paints and brushes and bottles. I found myself moving into the room and running a hand over the surface of the pair of wine bottles.

“How?” I asked.

Teufel’s voice floated over my shoulder. “You made this yourself. It has been waiting for you for a long time now. Do you wish to keep walking the train?”

I picked up a brush and ran my fingers gently across the bristles. “No…no, I think I’ll be alright.”

“Good.” I could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Then I’ll leave you here. Call out if you need anything.” I heard the door click shut behind me but I didn’t turn around. My attention had drifted from the table to the unfinished painting resting on the easel.

The canvas was divided into three separate parts by a thick black line. Each section depicted a scene, though only the top one was finished. However, even in the unfinished segments of the painting, I could clearly see that I was the centre of the trio of scenes.

The top part, the only one that was completely finished, portrayed showed me standing over a freshly dug grave. I leaned forward and read the inscription on the gravestone.

Lucy Watson
1981 - 2010

Taken before her time

I bent my legs and surveyed the second segment of the painting. Once again, I could see myself clearly painted onto the canvas, but this time I held smoking shotgun in my hands. The look of unrelenting fury on my painted face was in symmetry with the corpses strewn at my feet. All of them had gaping wounds from which their lives had expelled.

The final part of the painting showed me jumping off a bridge.

I wasn’t scared, angry, frightened, disconcerted or bewildered by finding this paint sitting here. It fit in with the weirdness of the train. What I felt was a sense of acknowledgement. The unfinished painting before me rang bells of truth in my head. I couldn’t remember why or where or what, but I accepted it for fact.

“You like?”

I stood up straight and turned around slowly. Teufel was standing there, wide grin on his face, arms crossed across his chest. “I thought you said you were going to leave me?” I asked.

“And I have,” he replied. “But we are here now. If you hadn’t taken so long to get to your room, you could have spent longer here. To late for that now.”

I looked over my shoulder out the windows but all I could see was the same endless black that had surrounded the train the whole journey. “Where is here?”

“The final destination.” Teufel turned and walked to the open door and beckoned me to follow. “Come on. I’ll not let you dawdle like you did on the way in.”

With one final look at the painting, I followed Teufel. Down carriage after carriage we went, past all the doors. They were all open now but every single on of them was empty.

Teufel anticipated my question. “They’ve already disembarked, as you should be doing. Hurry, Andrew, hurry.” He increased his pace and I followed suit.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the place where I had boarded the train. The doors were wide open, as if inviting me to step out. What was beyond I could only describe as nothing. There was nothing there, no platform, no group of fellow travellers. It was just the black.

“Go on,” Teufel prompted me from my side.

“Out there? But there isn’t anything there?” I protested.

“Go now, Andrew.” Teufel’s voice grew angry. “Go or I’ll make you go.”

I really didn’t see much choice in the matter. I could stay here with my angry and insistent guide or I could take a step into the unknown.

So I stepped forward.

I was instantly surrounded by black. My feet rested on some surface but when I looked down, it was no different than the darkness that surrounded the rest of me. I looked over my shoulder but the train was gone, just as I had suspected it would. Teufel had left me standing in nothingness, stranded and alone without any inkling as to where I was.

Just as those thoughts of hopelessness raced through my head, a flicker of light sprang into existence in the distance. I watched as it grew, swiftly eating the darkness in its fiery red firelight. As it closed in on me, I saw past the huge flames, seeing the silhouettes of people wandering around in the inferno. Over the roar of the fire, the vague sound of agonised screams drifted over me.

I took a frightened step back as the fire rushed towards me, looking as if it would engulf me just as it was the black. My eyes widened in terror as it grew closer and bigger and more intense. I began to sweat from the heat of the flames and feel them beginning to burn my skin.

I span around on my feet and ran, for I knew what it was.

I ran but I wasn’t fast enough.

Hell’s flames burst forward and swallowed my body, mind and soul.

First Post

2010-03-16T23:20:00.000-07:00

Welcome one and all to the random world that is created by Sam's Mind. It definitely deserves the capital letter there cause it's filled with as many inhabitants as some of the islands in the Pacific Ocean. Mostly i think it's me talking to myself...

But anyways, I'll be putting a bit of this and bit of that up on here. We'll see how it goes.

I'll be putting up a few stories and other things up here. Have a read and tell me what you think