Ever the inspiration and today's weather along with the experience is full of inspiration. First, tilled a garden for a neighbor's flower bulbs and though I did not want payment I got candy, soda, vegetables and friendly talk. Next, sawmilled in the most wonderful weather one could imagine (it's November and I have red roses blooming and sweet peas growing like weeds) Then I sat in my greenhouse where I saw the memories of fairy feet, and ate small pea sized sweet tomatoes. The greenhouse is currently full of spiders and it was fun to watch them. A few spiders actually started to spin webs on my arm, most enjoyable. Spiders are way cool and in the top ten on my list for favorite little critters.
The day is ending well as an 84 year old man stopped by with his family. He hired me to build him a house this winter and he is giving me free reign as to construction/design. It will be most fun. His daughter and son-in-law are hiring me for some dirt work and I will save them over $20 grand and I will still make good coin. Yes indeed, a most wonderful and inspirational day.
Thought of an interesting twist to dragon stories and so here it is, for any writers needing it please take it and run with it. It probably has already been written on some planet, maybe even this one, but whatever, take it if you want it.
***
(partial part of a chapter, a prep if you will)
Breathing in a labored breath a tortured roan stallion stood shaking, covered in gore, blood, and soil. He was a powerful animal and one raised from birth to carry warriors into any battlefield. His bloodline calling history into what a royal breed can accomplish; victory after victory.
Most horses were tools for their masters to dominate, ride, and control. For this wounded animal he was special in many ways and one special way was his name, Torgin.
Torgin no longer had a master, no longer a saddle or armor. He almost no longer had life as each beat of his heart caused blood to ooz from the many open wounds, soon there would no longer be blood to be pumped.
*
In the rocky cliff of the highlands there lay a dying dragon, her name was Rolmor and she was an old dragon, one who's wisdom, bravery, and experience had lead the other dragons to many victories.
The dragon clans were mostly aloof and individual. Each dragon preferring the company of only themselves but through the many worlds and timelines there sometimes came those moments where the dragons banded together against a common foe. On this world it was one of those moments as a species had evolved to the point of having the ability to kill dragons and kill they did.
A dragon peacefully living his life was attacked by the local populace and when he tried to defend himself, was slain by the animal riders/lance bearers. The riders clad in metal armor and rode to the sounds of pomp and circumstance, banners waving in the air. They were a weak puny lot though with their brains evolving to being able to use a world for their own means, they became a dangerous force powerful enough to now take on the dragons.
It was these riders who had slain the lone mountain dragon and his death rattle called many dragons from far off lands/worlds to come to his aid. Vengeance among the dragons is a spectacle to see indeed. Soon the war between the world and the dragons took on a bloody picture, a very bloody picture.
*
What does a dragon look like? Seeing the hurt Rolmor she looked like a creature made of rock. A rock with strands of webbed string twirling in the wind. Other dragons looked like creatures made of wood. One dragon looked whale -like with many legs, his body running over the ground like a centipede.
Dragons come in many shapes and sizes. Some are male. Some are female. Some just are. They are not lizards with fangs (unless they want to be) They are dragons...
*
Romor had slain many of the arrogant warriors. Smashing them and their steeds into powder. The rider of the roan was a brave fool and died quickly but not before leveling a powerful beam of light red in color against her. This beam is known as a laser and it caused great damage as it pierced the cracks between her 'rocky' skin.
Roaring in pain she reached out and squished the weapon and the hand holding such. Her arm smashed into the roan and a piece of her hand stuck into the horse as it ran away.
*
Still struggling to stay alive and looking like it would only be a matter of minutes before Torgin joined the other battalions of death, it was a bit sad to see a mighty proud horse now quiver in pain, no longer standing rather now on his side and each heave of his ribs showing excruciating pain as the horse struggled to breath.
Breathing. Life. Blood. Heat. Each important in their own right. To hear. To speak. To think. To see...Ah yes, to see. It is in the eyes where the soul is seen and in Torgins eyes the bright flame of life was almost extinguished, soon they would be opaque, lifeless, and rotting.
*
Both the dragon and horse lay dying. In the dragons eyes the stars of universes shown as she let the other dragons know she would soon be gone. In the horses eyes, he lay dying, already breathing his last breath...
And then, it happened.
With a howl the dragon known as Romor died, her soul freed. With a whimper, a final gurgle, the horse known as Torgin died, his muscles twitching the death dance.
Eyes
It started, and grew.
A glow in Torgin's lifeless eyes, it was impossible. In the dragons eyes there was nothing but blackness, the blackness of death.
In Torgins eyes there showed the stars of the universe. They showed much and they showed life. Already a change was coming for the dead flesh once known as a horse. The skin started to take on the appearance of rock, the legs taking on the appearance of tree trunks, and on the 'horses' flanks there emerged spring like tendrils.
The world was witnessing the birth of a new dragon, a dragon rising literally from the ashes. A part of this world and that, a magical union. It will be interesting to see, what would this dragons fate be?
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Speaking of births, a shoutout to a friend celebrating such a date.
Birthdays and the dates of death. A doctor will record the date and time of birth and of death. Humans are so punctual about such trivia. Records of military service, of education, of bills and bank statements.
Ask a woman what her age is and they don't like to say, much like their weight.
Ask a man how much they bench press or how big was the fish they caught and they'll lie their ass off.
Interesting: Record keeping and denial.
Thus the inspiration.
***
What are you eating?
"Nothing..." (munch munch)
Are you asleep?
"Yes."
Are you afraid of ghosts?
"No." (boo..) "Awwww!"
Do you tell lies?
"No."
You've never told a lie?
"No."
What then, are you eating?
"Nothing..." (munch munch)
Birthdays and the dates of death. A doctor will record the date and time of birth and of death. Humans are so punctual about such trivia. Records of military service, of education, of bills and bank statements.
Ask a woman what her age is and they don't like to say, much like their weight.
Ask a man how much they bench press or how big was the fish they caught and they'll lie their ass off.
Interesting: Record keeping and denial.
Thus the inspiration.
***
What are you eating?
"Nothing..." (munch munch)
Are you asleep?
"Yes."
Are you afraid of ghosts?
"No." (boo..) "Awwww!"
Do you tell lies?
"No."
You've never told a lie?
"No."
What then, are you eating?
"Nothing..." (munch munch)
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Time slips away and today in the island it stood still. Over two hours gone without a trace other than good company and music. Soup was good and Bar-C (her name though her parents don't know it) let's just say her feet were tested and now it's her choice.
Inspiration from the moment.
***
"Look into her eyes," the man said.
She is not ready but holding her head the flashes of memory.
Two, of course, but it was already written.
Wanting to test and wiggle through her drooling.
Sleep child, you have - time.
*
The Stranger
The stranger was a tinkerer, plying the trade of what is and what is not. His travel taking him through various dimensions and portals...today, he shoveled manure, yesterday he bled, tomorrow he swims and fixes a leak. Flying high, burrowing deep, swimming, crawling, running, walking...
Inside an immense white light surrounded by an infinite blackness. Outside an infinite blackness surrounded by an immense white light.
Tonight, as a world sleeps there comes a moment only the stranger can know. No distractions. No time. No feelings of this world. The stranger feels how corrupt this time has become. Corruption, stagnant, rotten. Tomorrow, refreshed, renewed, and ...
With
Without
Wind for
Wind forgotten
The stranger smiles and will help as that is his way, his path, his journey. To fix. To repair. To make better...
No lock can keep him bound, no chains, no sealed door... it can only hold those with the key.
Soon, the moment of the stranger is complete, what is is done becomes friend what is done becomes adversary, as those with torches saw those many thousands of years ago,
a
rock
cried
they spoke
a
stranger
came...
Inspiration from the moment.
***
"Look into her eyes," the man said.
She is not ready but holding her head the flashes of memory.
Two, of course, but it was already written.
Wanting to test and wiggle through her drooling.
Sleep child, you have - time.
*
The Stranger
The stranger was a tinkerer, plying the trade of what is and what is not. His travel taking him through various dimensions and portals...today, he shoveled manure, yesterday he bled, tomorrow he swims and fixes a leak. Flying high, burrowing deep, swimming, crawling, running, walking...
Inside an immense white light surrounded by an infinite blackness. Outside an infinite blackness surrounded by an immense white light.
Tonight, as a world sleeps there comes a moment only the stranger can know. No distractions. No time. No feelings of this world. The stranger feels how corrupt this time has become. Corruption, stagnant, rotten. Tomorrow, refreshed, renewed, and ...
With
Without
Wind for
Wind forgotten
The stranger smiles and will help as that is his way, his path, his journey. To fix. To repair. To make better...
No lock can keep him bound, no chains, no sealed door... it can only hold those with the key.
Soon, the moment of the stranger is complete, what is is done becomes friend what is done becomes adversary, as those with torches saw those many thousands of years ago,
a
rock
cried
they spoke
a
stranger
came...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Hey Robin, where are you?" The parasite was a bit confused as Robin is an old boring prick and is always around to harass but he could not find him.
"Robin? Is that you?" A strange shape was waddling up to the parasite.
I'm a duck. A stupid, fucking duck.
"Ha! Yes you are, a stupid looking fucking duck. Let me guess , another one of Robin's characters?"
No shit Sherlock.
"So, what brings you here on this wonderful election day? The food? The company of my awesomeness? The weather?"
I'm here to give you something to talk too. Robin sent me as he had work to do in the local cemetery.
"Is he there looking for something to eat?"
Nah, (ruffling his feathers and letting loose some green duck shit) he was looking up all the dead names so he could vote Democrat and Republican. He likes to cover all the bases so he votes early and often, voting for both parties.
Who did you vote for parasite? Ahhhh...(the duck found comfort in swimming in the toilet bowl)
I was going to vote for Adolf Hitler but then thought of the Dali Lama...Settled for voting for myself as I'm a bit of a narcissist (looking into the mirror and applying more purple hair color to strands looking eerily like barbed wire) Who did you vote for duck?
Parasite, Robin is right, you are an idiot. Anyone with a brain knows ducks can't vote.
"Sure ducks can vote. Happens all the time. It makes sense that ducks vote as some candidates are not human."
The parasite and duck were developing a great relationship. The duck was swimming in the toilet, the parasite was nibbling on the hair stuck in the shower drain, and in the distance Robin could be heard yelling...Oh goody! A fresh one...
"Robin? Is that you?" A strange shape was waddling up to the parasite.
I'm a duck. A stupid, fucking duck.
"Ha! Yes you are, a stupid looking fucking duck. Let me guess , another one of Robin's characters?"
No shit Sherlock.
"So, what brings you here on this wonderful election day? The food? The company of my awesomeness? The weather?"
I'm here to give you something to talk too. Robin sent me as he had work to do in the local cemetery.
"Is he there looking for something to eat?"
Nah, (ruffling his feathers and letting loose some green duck shit) he was looking up all the dead names so he could vote Democrat and Republican. He likes to cover all the bases so he votes early and often, voting for both parties.
Who did you vote for parasite? Ahhhh...(the duck found comfort in swimming in the toilet bowl)
I was going to vote for Adolf Hitler but then thought of the Dali Lama...Settled for voting for myself as I'm a bit of a narcissist (looking into the mirror and applying more purple hair color to strands looking eerily like barbed wire) Who did you vote for duck?
Parasite, Robin is right, you are an idiot. Anyone with a brain knows ducks can't vote.
"Sure ducks can vote. Happens all the time. It makes sense that ducks vote as some candidates are not human."
The parasite and duck were developing a great relationship. The duck was swimming in the toilet, the parasite was nibbling on the hair stuck in the shower drain, and in the distance Robin could be heard yelling...Oh goody! A fresh one...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Fun election. Most enjoyable study of human nature as to the results. For those seeking to move out of this country, good luck as if you cannot be happy here you will definitely not be happy elsewhere, unless...you're a penguin in some frozen wasteland.
Today was another one of those days that will never happen on a daily basis for others. Today I cut off some of my fingertip while sawing a board and as an extra bonus I was wiring a circuit for a friend and got electrocuted.
The fingertip was way cool as I got to see the muscles exposed by the removed skin - twitch. Then, after shutting off the circuit breaker to the guys garage I discovered the outlet line was not on the same circuit and when working on the outlet the jolt was refreshing, a whole other form of twitching. Not as fun as playing with lightning but stimulating none-the-less.
Inspiration is still tingling in me and the finger? It will be fun to see if the body heals like a lizard.
As for the 'United' States of something called, America? Trump...for you a poem...and a memory.
***
Black Star
While swaddled surrounded by checkerboard lines
Windows open
Faced park.
Her face was blank as she cried
your mother
Your father,
enriched.
Deals closed to other open windows
Such the wheel, the deal, the money flowed.
Women smiled
Men smiled
Work showed.
Marriage and affairs of the heart
First class
Never second to last
Third a beauty.
Tick Tock the clock hands dance
In the heavens the gods laugh
The Riverman hails]
Two gold coins.
Comes the and after
Stiff suits with other deals
and angst.
Comes the tide bearing brackish water
Wood submerged the words, "Come."
Spring of Life showing,
hold heart holed.
Today was another one of those days that will never happen on a daily basis for others. Today I cut off some of my fingertip while sawing a board and as an extra bonus I was wiring a circuit for a friend and got electrocuted.
The fingertip was way cool as I got to see the muscles exposed by the removed skin - twitch. Then, after shutting off the circuit breaker to the guys garage I discovered the outlet line was not on the same circuit and when working on the outlet the jolt was refreshing, a whole other form of twitching. Not as fun as playing with lightning but stimulating none-the-less.
Inspiration is still tingling in me and the finger? It will be fun to see if the body heals like a lizard.
As for the 'United' States of something called, America? Trump...for you a poem...and a memory.
***
Black Star
While swaddled surrounded by checkerboard lines
Windows open
Faced park.
Her face was blank as she cried
your mother
Your father,
enriched.
Deals closed to other open windows
Such the wheel, the deal, the money flowed.
Women smiled
Men smiled
Work showed.
Marriage and affairs of the heart
First class
Never second to last
Third a beauty.
Tick Tock the clock hands dance
In the heavens the gods laugh
The Riverman hails]
Two gold coins.
Comes the and after
Stiff suits with other deals
and angst.
Comes the tide bearing brackish water
Wood submerged the words, "Come."
Spring of Life showing,
hold heart holed.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Most wonderful weather and most wonderful seeing the beauty.
***
Night whirl with swirls of laughing stars and stern moon
Day flashes by with a blink
Seeing moving pictures
Driven by a blur
Pinching flesh to numb the senses
Asleep while awake
Is it a dream?
Life?
You?
Me?
***
Night whirl with swirls of laughing stars and stern moon
Day flashes by with a blink
Seeing moving pictures
Driven by a blur
Pinching flesh to numb the senses
Asleep while awake
Is it a dream?
Life?
You?
Me?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Fantastic weather here in Idaho today. Hard to believe it is November and yet so warm and nice.
Today was Veterans Day in this country and every year I try and pay my respects via writing something and today it will be a poem.
I served this country for 8.5 years of active duty and was lucky to not have paid the ultimate sacrifice. I greatly appreciate those who have.
Most of the people I served with are now retired and Kevin Clark is the only one I still know who is in charge of the MLB school, he will retire next Spring. Maybe I'll go harass his retirement party (you should see what I did to his answering machine recording when he was not looking)
Currently the only other military person I know is a Second Lt. who serves in the National Guard and this person- in my opinion - does the uniform justice- and my thanks go out to this Lt. Gregg. If you're reading this,enjoy jumping out of a perfectly good helicopter that according to the logic of science should not even be flying. If you fall off the rope, scream real loud, it will help deaden the pain of your knees going above your ears.
To those veterans and other active duty military types that stumble across this thread, thanks for your service and sacrifices.
To those human pigs recently 'protesting' capitalism, Trump, and whatever it is pigs that break small business owners windows and smash private property do... you will never, ever, know what honor and service is. Too bad. Others sacrifice so you can act more primitive than a red-assed baboon.
***
Salute
A small boy playing in the yard
Nearby motherly hands preparing his future
Sister cribbed and secure.
Far off lands of hot sands, swamps, jungles
Government of despots and broken ideals
Seeking power of blood and tribe.
War.
Upheaval.
Death and pain lubricated by the water of tears.
Hear the engines turn:
Navy ships
Air Force bombers
Army battalions
Marine leather necks
Coast Guard patrols
Men and Women prepared to live
to die
to fight, protect, and be.
All volunteers
All colors
All religions
All Americans.
Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers
Citizens under a tried and true
Flag.
A small boy playing in the yard
Nearby mother preparing his future
Sister cribbed and secure...
His father fighting in those far off lands
Doing his best though tired and tested
Missing and wishing for family, peace, and love...
As it was, is, and will be
War and violence on all fronts
Thank you men and women who wear the uniform with pride,
from one old grunt,
good job...
I salute you.
Today was Veterans Day in this country and every year I try and pay my respects via writing something and today it will be a poem.
I served this country for 8.5 years of active duty and was lucky to not have paid the ultimate sacrifice. I greatly appreciate those who have.
Most of the people I served with are now retired and Kevin Clark is the only one I still know who is in charge of the MLB school, he will retire next Spring. Maybe I'll go harass his retirement party (you should see what I did to his answering machine recording when he was not looking)
Currently the only other military person I know is a Second Lt. who serves in the National Guard and this person- in my opinion - does the uniform justice- and my thanks go out to this Lt. Gregg. If you're reading this,enjoy jumping out of a perfectly good helicopter that according to the logic of science should not even be flying. If you fall off the rope, scream real loud, it will help deaden the pain of your knees going above your ears.
To those veterans and other active duty military types that stumble across this thread, thanks for your service and sacrifices.
To those human pigs recently 'protesting' capitalism, Trump, and whatever it is pigs that break small business owners windows and smash private property do... you will never, ever, know what honor and service is. Too bad. Others sacrifice so you can act more primitive than a red-assed baboon.
***
Salute
A small boy playing in the yard
Nearby motherly hands preparing his future
Sister cribbed and secure.
Far off lands of hot sands, swamps, jungles
Government of despots and broken ideals
Seeking power of blood and tribe.
War.
Upheaval.
Death and pain lubricated by the water of tears.
Hear the engines turn:
Navy ships
Air Force bombers
Army battalions
Marine leather necks
Coast Guard patrols
Men and Women prepared to live
to die
to fight, protect, and be.
All volunteers
All colors
All religions
All Americans.
Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers
Citizens under a tried and true
Flag.
A small boy playing in the yard
Nearby mother preparing his future
Sister cribbed and secure...
His father fighting in those far off lands
Doing his best though tired and tested
Missing and wishing for family, peace, and love...
As it was, is, and will be
War and violence on all fronts
Thank you men and women who wear the uniform with pride,
from one old grunt,
good job...
I salute you.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
In the dream the field was covered in coiled and dancing snakes. Striking, without venom, without pain until they faded into the squared plain, replaced with visions of cedar.
The man painstakingly painted each end of the cedar logs, logs imperfect. Crooked, swelled butt, cracked, random lengths...but of great value. Trash for those in the know but knowing just what these logs could do. His brush of clear fluid from a tiny jar, endless and unfilling, scented with the snake.
Camping, a sea mist lingering far inland. Two places at once. Night and day. Sound of the ocean enhanced by desert
breeze.
Faces of friends far away.
A large moon to shine behind the rain, breaking free.
Knowing your mind said to, 'play the drum', be careful what you wish too C.
This is what a bug speaks.
The man painstakingly painted each end of the cedar logs, logs imperfect. Crooked, swelled butt, cracked, random lengths...but of great value. Trash for those in the know but knowing just what these logs could do. His brush of clear fluid from a tiny jar, endless and unfilling, scented with the snake.
Camping, a sea mist lingering far inland. Two places at once. Night and day. Sound of the ocean enhanced by desert
breeze.
Faces of friends far away.
A large moon to shine behind the rain, breaking free.
Knowing your mind said to, 'play the drum', be careful what you wish too C.
This is what a bug speaks.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Robin? Focus dude. For months you've been writing shitty stuff. Weird. Most of it makes no sense."
Good, I'm glad you read it that way. Agree with ya though but I've been pursuing something that is close to the heart and for writers that dominates the mind.
"What? Pizza? Potato chips? Work?"
Yeah, and also creativity. I love to explore, discover, and create, but it is mostly a waste of time as it all has been written before, lived before, rejected before, applauded...whatever verb, adjective or noun is used.
"So what are ya gonna do now, write recipes?"
Nope, gonna work my ass off, contemplate the stupidity of this world, devour millions of delicious calories and torture the shit out you parasite.
"Sounds good to me, except for the torture bit. Maybe you and me can discover something 'new' to write?"
Maybe. Won't do much good as nobody gives a flying fuck for what writers write unless the writer sells their soul to the corporate ghouls and allow the editors from Hell to rewrite it so idiots can understand. Or, like those self-loving, selfie taking pricks at Poetry Circle who fawn over the shit others of their ilk write while putting down anything or anybody they don't agree with or like.
Amazing how many good writers are out there, even those past writers submitting to Aphelion, how their writing is viewed as, "Oh hum ho, I wonder what Katy Perry is wearing today..." In my opinion, all stories and poetry are excellent as they are the true window to the persons soul and who are we to judge what is good or bad. I do agree that mass consumption of writing needs to fit a certain 'mold' but that is only for monetary gain.Of course, the exception being that from time-to-time, a truly exemplorary writer comes along and just wows the literary world and no money or pursuit of an ideal is involved. This is rare but it does happen.
To be honest, I know myself very well and who and what I am. I am an old man who dares to dream, loves life, and loves to write, and sucks at writing but I fear nothing and write anyway. If anything could be taken from this thread that would be to inspire writers to write. Write no matter the content, structure, spelling, no matter what, to just be inspired and go for it.
For any of you wanting to write your first story, Aphelion is an excellent place to do so. Sure, most readers may just say, "Ho Hum..." but at least you will be doing something you've always wanted to do, and as some stupid old saying goes, "That which does not kill you only makes you stronger."
I really appreciate that the 'powers-that-be' here at Aphelion have allowed one such as myself to be expressive. I know I push the boundaries of situations and language, such to the point of offending some readers but that is one of the reasons I really like Aphelion over so many other forums- Freedom.
So, to any potential writers out there, write your fucking ass off. For writers who only stick to one genre let your metaphoric ass show - write something that is uncomfortable to you, maybe write some poetry. If anyone rejects you or tells you that your writing sucks, smile and say, "Well, at least you read it..."
"Damn, long winded tonight Robin. About done?"
Yep. I'm finished with what needed to be done. Time for a new adventure and story, a new dream, a new world to explore. Maybe I'll come back and write about it, maybe I'll write it on the beach in Spain or Canary Islands and watch the tide wash it away. Whatever, it is what it is.
Come on parasite, lets go raid the fridge...
"NOW you're talking my language Robin."
Good, I'm glad you read it that way. Agree with ya though but I've been pursuing something that is close to the heart and for writers that dominates the mind.
"What? Pizza? Potato chips? Work?"
Yeah, and also creativity. I love to explore, discover, and create, but it is mostly a waste of time as it all has been written before, lived before, rejected before, applauded...whatever verb, adjective or noun is used.
"So what are ya gonna do now, write recipes?"
Nope, gonna work my ass off, contemplate the stupidity of this world, devour millions of delicious calories and torture the shit out you parasite.
"Sounds good to me, except for the torture bit. Maybe you and me can discover something 'new' to write?"
Maybe. Won't do much good as nobody gives a flying fuck for what writers write unless the writer sells their soul to the corporate ghouls and allow the editors from Hell to rewrite it so idiots can understand. Or, like those self-loving, selfie taking pricks at Poetry Circle who fawn over the shit others of their ilk write while putting down anything or anybody they don't agree with or like.
Amazing how many good writers are out there, even those past writers submitting to Aphelion, how their writing is viewed as, "Oh hum ho, I wonder what Katy Perry is wearing today..." In my opinion, all stories and poetry are excellent as they are the true window to the persons soul and who are we to judge what is good or bad. I do agree that mass consumption of writing needs to fit a certain 'mold' but that is only for monetary gain.Of course, the exception being that from time-to-time, a truly exemplorary writer comes along and just wows the literary world and no money or pursuit of an ideal is involved. This is rare but it does happen.
To be honest, I know myself very well and who and what I am. I am an old man who dares to dream, loves life, and loves to write, and sucks at writing but I fear nothing and write anyway. If anything could be taken from this thread that would be to inspire writers to write. Write no matter the content, structure, spelling, no matter what, to just be inspired and go for it.
For any of you wanting to write your first story, Aphelion is an excellent place to do so. Sure, most readers may just say, "Ho Hum..." but at least you will be doing something you've always wanted to do, and as some stupid old saying goes, "That which does not kill you only makes you stronger."
I really appreciate that the 'powers-that-be' here at Aphelion have allowed one such as myself to be expressive. I know I push the boundaries of situations and language, such to the point of offending some readers but that is one of the reasons I really like Aphelion over so many other forums- Freedom.
So, to any potential writers out there, write your fucking ass off. For writers who only stick to one genre let your metaphoric ass show - write something that is uncomfortable to you, maybe write some poetry. If anyone rejects you or tells you that your writing sucks, smile and say, "Well, at least you read it..."
"Damn, long winded tonight Robin. About done?"
Yep. I'm finished with what needed to be done. Time for a new adventure and story, a new dream, a new world to explore. Maybe I'll come back and write about it, maybe I'll write it on the beach in Spain or Canary Islands and watch the tide wash it away. Whatever, it is what it is.
Come on parasite, lets go raid the fridge...
"NOW you're talking my language Robin."
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Been awhile since dribbling whatever the hell it is that dribbles from these fingers.
Rejection. I like it. Since my last bit of writing here I've had over twenty poem rejected by various outlets. A few stories. But what the hell, my writing sucks but it does soothe my addiction to writing.
I'm going to copy-and-paste my latest rejection. I fully understand why a publication would reject it but it is written and maybe some reader reading this forum will enjoy it. Maybe take it and improve the story.
Since it is a bit long, over 3000 words, I'll break it up by pages.
***
Fear or Fearing
Page One
Fear or Fearing
By: Robin B. Lipinski
“It has been said that the only thing to fear is fear itself. A rather simple explanation for fear in my opinion, but today you all and I will discuss the more personal nuances of what all people experience in one form or another, that being the feeling of fear.” Professor Leonard Sheldon spoke with about as much enthusiasm to his class gathered in front of him as a fifty-five year old burned out prostitute would sound like when asking a John for a ‘good time’.
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The professor had taught psychology to thousands of students the past many tenured years of his stay at Berkley. Many years of trying to teach a young generation about the mind and how it works. From his personal experience and from what he saw daily in the school year; there was not much hope for advancing humanity.
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Yes, there were those few students who surprised him but that was just a statistical anomaly and if given a percentage number it was less than one percent of his students.
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It could be said that Leonard was biased and arrogant in his assessment of his students. After all he was a very learned man; achievement came early in his life. A perfect academic record with multiple degrees in psychology, with minor degrees in language, and physical science. On his wall in his office it was covered with his papered achievements of which included two PhD’s. In his mind, and many in the realm of education, he was a very smart man.
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As for the worlds opinion of his physical looks…it was mostly dismal. He was not tall or full of muscles, rather he was short, fat, balding, and truth-be-told, if one got too near to him they would suffer the smell of halitosis, the smell reminding many of old sewage exposed by removing a septic tank lid.
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Looking out from behind his podium at the students numbering roughly fifty in number, he shook his head and with a sigh said, “Alright, let’s get right to the heart of fear. Fear is different for everyone. For some there is the fear of certain animals, for others, certain people. Fear is a personal experience and different for everyone. I’m sure everyone here has their own particular fears so let’s find out some of those fears.”
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Rejection. I like it. Since my last bit of writing here I've had over twenty poem rejected by various outlets. A few stories. But what the hell, my writing sucks but it does soothe my addiction to writing.
I'm going to copy-and-paste my latest rejection. I fully understand why a publication would reject it but it is written and maybe some reader reading this forum will enjoy it. Maybe take it and improve the story.
Since it is a bit long, over 3000 words, I'll break it up by pages.
***
Fear or Fearing
Page One
Fear or Fearing
By: Robin B. Lipinski
“It has been said that the only thing to fear is fear itself. A rather simple explanation for fear in my opinion, but today you all and I will discuss the more personal nuances of what all people experience in one form or another, that being the feeling of fear.” Professor Leonard Sheldon spoke with about as much enthusiasm to his class gathered in front of him as a fifty-five year old burned out prostitute would sound like when asking a John for a ‘good time’.
-
The professor had taught psychology to thousands of students the past many tenured years of his stay at Berkley. Many years of trying to teach a young generation about the mind and how it works. From his personal experience and from what he saw daily in the school year; there was not much hope for advancing humanity.
-
Yes, there were those few students who surprised him but that was just a statistical anomaly and if given a percentage number it was less than one percent of his students.
-
It could be said that Leonard was biased and arrogant in his assessment of his students. After all he was a very learned man; achievement came early in his life. A perfect academic record with multiple degrees in psychology, with minor degrees in language, and physical science. On his wall in his office it was covered with his papered achievements of which included two PhD’s. In his mind, and many in the realm of education, he was a very smart man.
-
As for the worlds opinion of his physical looks…it was mostly dismal. He was not tall or full of muscles, rather he was short, fat, balding, and truth-be-told, if one got too near to him they would suffer the smell of halitosis, the smell reminding many of old sewage exposed by removing a septic tank lid.
-
Looking out from behind his podium at the students numbering roughly fifty in number, he shook his head and with a sigh said, “Alright, let’s get right to the heart of fear. Fear is different for everyone. For some there is the fear of certain animals, for others, certain people. Fear is a personal experience and different for everyone. I’m sure everyone here has their own particular fears so let’s find out some of those fears.”
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The professor was a bit conflicted about athletes, he enjoyed exposing how weak most of their minds were and he hated their physical abilities. Sitting in the middle of the class was a young man who played football on the college team. He was one of those athletes who were very secure in who they were and placed great value in themselves as they often shined in the light of attention. This particular athlete was named, John.
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“John, tell us your innermost fear.” The professor waved his right hand in the general direction of a student athlete lost in his smart phone texting one of his many girlfriends, or what is now known at college as fuck buddies.
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“John…hello, earth calling John, anyone home?”
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The rest of the class started laughing and this caused the Romeo to raise his head to see the professor looking at him. “Are you talking to me?”
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“Ah, so nice you could join us. If you think you can manage to live for a few minutes without your phone, please tell us what you greatly fear.”
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The whole class turned their heads to look at what answer would come out of John’s mouth. And that’s what’s nice about athletes who are very secure with themselves, they generally are not afraid of anything; part of training to win at all costs, fearing nothing, especially a broken nose, leg, or mind.
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“Sure I fear you giving me a bad grade…” This caused more laughter from his fellow students.
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“No John, seriously. What would cause you to experience great fear? Something that you would run away from. Something that would cause you to scream even.”
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It seemed strange but John actually paused for a few seconds and on his face it looked like he was seriously thinking of taking the question seriously, but the small smile appearing just before his answer revealed the truth, “I fear being unconscious in the locker room and when coming too, finding myself naked and tied to a bench. All around me are my team mates - naked – excited, and looking at me with big…smiles.”
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The professor was a bit conflicted about athletes, he enjoyed exposing how weak most of their minds were and he hated their physical abilities. Sitting in the middle of the class was a young man who played football on the college team. He was one of those athletes who were very secure in who they were and placed great value in themselves as they often shined in the light of attention. This particular athlete was named, John.
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“John, tell us your innermost fear.” The professor waved his right hand in the general direction of a student athlete lost in his smart phone texting one of his many girlfriends, or what is now known at college as fuck buddies.
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“John…hello, earth calling John, anyone home?”
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The rest of the class started laughing and this caused the Romeo to raise his head to see the professor looking at him. “Are you talking to me?”
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“Ah, so nice you could join us. If you think you can manage to live for a few minutes without your phone, please tell us what you greatly fear.”
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The whole class turned their heads to look at what answer would come out of John’s mouth. And that’s what’s nice about athletes who are very secure with themselves, they generally are not afraid of anything; part of training to win at all costs, fearing nothing, especially a broken nose, leg, or mind.
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“Sure I fear you giving me a bad grade…” This caused more laughter from his fellow students.
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“No John, seriously. What would cause you to experience great fear? Something that you would run away from. Something that would cause you to scream even.”
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It seemed strange but John actually paused for a few seconds and on his face it looked like he was seriously thinking of taking the question seriously, but the small smile appearing just before his answer revealed the truth, “I fear being unconscious in the locker room and when coming too, finding myself naked and tied to a bench. All around me are my team mates - naked – excited, and looking at me with big…smiles.”
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This caused everyone but Leonard to break out in laughter. For Leonard he made another mental filing of how much he truly hated athletes, now John was added in that file, but before he let John have the last laugh he said, “Yes, I imagine they would be smiling at you as you would be smiling at them…”
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Some of the students were a bit more dense than the others, John included but when the logic of what the professor had said sunk in, they all laughed, with the exception of John who mentally flipped off the teacher and went back to the girls on his phone.
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Turning to his next victim he spotted the girl near the back who always hid in the shadows, who never volunteered any answer and who was basically a very shy young woman. Her name was Jill.
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“Jill, what causes you great fear?”
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Jill was silent, her face turning red.
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“Does speaking in public cause you fear?”
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She answered honestly, “Yes, a little but not enough to want to run away.”
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“So tell us all Jill, what would cause you such fear that you would want to run away?”
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It did not take long for Jill to answer and it was a simple answer, “I fear God.”
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The rest of the class looked bored. Jill was not as fun to study as John was. She was just a shy girl, kinda cute, kinda not. Not the smartest student, not the dumbest. She was an average nobody and nobody in class wanted anything to do with her.
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Leonard smiled at the answer. He knew there was no God or Devil. He knew religion was a weakness for the mind to embrace to overcome the weakness of the person thinking in such. Leonard had absolutely nothing positive to think regarding any deity, nothing at all.
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This caused everyone but Leonard to break out in laughter. For Leonard he made another mental filing of how much he truly hated athletes, now John was added in that file, but before he let John have the last laugh he said, “Yes, I imagine they would be smiling at you as you would be smiling at them…”
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Some of the students were a bit more dense than the others, John included but when the logic of what the professor had said sunk in, they all laughed, with the exception of John who mentally flipped off the teacher and went back to the girls on his phone.
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Turning to his next victim he spotted the girl near the back who always hid in the shadows, who never volunteered any answer and who was basically a very shy young woman. Her name was Jill.
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“Jill, what causes you great fear?”
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Jill was silent, her face turning red.
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“Does speaking in public cause you fear?”
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She answered honestly, “Yes, a little but not enough to want to run away.”
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“So tell us all Jill, what would cause you such fear that you would want to run away?”
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It did not take long for Jill to answer and it was a simple answer, “I fear God.”
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The rest of the class looked bored. Jill was not as fun to study as John was. She was just a shy girl, kinda cute, kinda not. Not the smartest student, not the dumbest. She was an average nobody and nobody in class wanted anything to do with her.
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Leonard smiled at the answer. He knew there was no God or Devil. He knew religion was a weakness for the mind to embrace to overcome the weakness of the person thinking in such. Leonard had absolutely nothing positive to think regarding any deity, nothing at all.
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“So Jill, you fear God? Why? I thought God was a loving God, a compassionate God, why then would such a simple child as yourself fear something so loving?” This question actually caught the attention of many of the students, but not all, those people were looking at their text messages, one was even sleeping.
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There was no fear in Jill’s voice when she said, “I fear God because not only is he a loving God, but a vengeful one. I fear his power.”
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“His power? What, do you fear he would turn you into a frog?” Now the class was being entertained and showed their collective appreciation by laughing.
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Jill was no longer red in her face nor shy of speaking, “No, I do not fear that he would turn me into a frog. I fear God because he made me and thus has the power to destroy me.”
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In the professors mind he thought this was another nut case. He had much experience debating those nutty people who believe in God. “You actually fear your maker, one filled with love? This fear is greater than, oh, let’s say, sharks?”
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Jill was silent for a few seconds and then answered, “Well, sure, I’d greatly fear sharks but I don’t swim in the ocean or have any desire to go on any boats so there would be no opportunity to fear sharks. God however is with me always.”
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“Alright then, what would you do if a masked man approached you with the intentions of raping you, maybe even killing you, would this cause fear?”
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“Of course, but I would fight back and I’d have God by my side.”
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The professor tried many different approaches to Jill, all geared towards ridicule on an intelligent level, all to fail at the simplicity of Jill’s answer. In his mind, Jill was a lost cause, another form of religious zealot and thus in his world, stupid at the least and insane at the most.
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After many minutes of talking with Jill, he turned and asked many other students about their fears. He received many answers, serious and not serious. Such answers were death, animal attacks, crime, war, scary movies, certain foods, global warming…A lot of varied situations and items causing fear.
“So Jill, you fear God? Why? I thought God was a loving God, a compassionate God, why then would such a simple child as yourself fear something so loving?” This question actually caught the attention of many of the students, but not all, those people were looking at their text messages, one was even sleeping.
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There was no fear in Jill’s voice when she said, “I fear God because not only is he a loving God, but a vengeful one. I fear his power.”
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“His power? What, do you fear he would turn you into a frog?” Now the class was being entertained and showed their collective appreciation by laughing.
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Jill was no longer red in her face nor shy of speaking, “No, I do not fear that he would turn me into a frog. I fear God because he made me and thus has the power to destroy me.”
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In the professors mind he thought this was another nut case. He had much experience debating those nutty people who believe in God. “You actually fear your maker, one filled with love? This fear is greater than, oh, let’s say, sharks?”
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Jill was silent for a few seconds and then answered, “Well, sure, I’d greatly fear sharks but I don’t swim in the ocean or have any desire to go on any boats so there would be no opportunity to fear sharks. God however is with me always.”
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“Alright then, what would you do if a masked man approached you with the intentions of raping you, maybe even killing you, would this cause fear?”
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“Of course, but I would fight back and I’d have God by my side.”
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The professor tried many different approaches to Jill, all geared towards ridicule on an intelligent level, all to fail at the simplicity of Jill’s answer. In his mind, Jill was a lost cause, another form of religious zealot and thus in his world, stupid at the least and insane at the most.
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After many minutes of talking with Jill, he turned and asked many other students about their fears. He received many answers, serious and not serious. Such answers were death, animal attacks, crime, war, scary movies, certain foods, global warming…A lot of varied situations and items causing fear.
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“Professor Sheldon.” A voice spoke loudly from the shadows behind the last student sitting in the room.
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“Yes? And you are?” Leonard squinted as the light was bright around him but grew dimmer the farther away one got. Where the question came from was located very far away but finally he saw the person calling his name. It was odd as he had never seen this person before.
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Again he asked, “And who are you? Are you a student of this class? What’s your name?”
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With great strength in the voice the reply was, “I am.”
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“What? You are, I am? What kind of answer is that? Give me the courtesy of your name or the courtesy of getting the hell out of my class.”
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There was a slight chuckle from the person now causing the class professor to get anger in his voice. “My name is whatever it is you want it to be.” With a slight pause it was further added, “For you my name is, Bob…”
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The whole class was interested in this new twist in the class, even John the athlete paused from sexting to see what all the excitement was about.
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“Okay, ‘Bob’, what do you want?” You could definitely sense anger in Leonard’s voice.
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“What do you fear?” Again, the voice full of bass and very firm.
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“What do I fear? I fear nothing except whatever it is my body feels a natural instinct to fight or flee from…” Leonard now smiled as he knew his answer above all the other students answers was the correct one. He knew that the human body was hard wired to feel fear from anything capable of causing physical or mental harm. He knew it was only logical to flee from an attacking bear or if unable, to fight for life.
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Again the voice from the back spoke in a loud, calm voice, “Do you fear ghosts?”
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“Professor Sheldon.” A voice spoke loudly from the shadows behind the last student sitting in the room.
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“Yes? And you are?” Leonard squinted as the light was bright around him but grew dimmer the farther away one got. Where the question came from was located very far away but finally he saw the person calling his name. It was odd as he had never seen this person before.
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Again he asked, “And who are you? Are you a student of this class? What’s your name?”
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With great strength in the voice the reply was, “I am.”
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“What? You are, I am? What kind of answer is that? Give me the courtesy of your name or the courtesy of getting the hell out of my class.”
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There was a slight chuckle from the person now causing the class professor to get anger in his voice. “My name is whatever it is you want it to be.” With a slight pause it was further added, “For you my name is, Bob…”
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The whole class was interested in this new twist in the class, even John the athlete paused from sexting to see what all the excitement was about.
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“Okay, ‘Bob’, what do you want?” You could definitely sense anger in Leonard’s voice.
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“What do you fear?” Again, the voice full of bass and very firm.
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“What do I fear? I fear nothing except whatever it is my body feels a natural instinct to fight or flee from…” Leonard now smiled as he knew his answer above all the other students answers was the correct one. He knew that the human body was hard wired to feel fear from anything capable of causing physical or mental harm. He knew it was only logical to flee from an attacking bear or if unable, to fight for life.
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Again the voice from the back spoke in a loud, calm voice, “Do you fear ghosts?”
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At this the whole class started laughing. Oh it was a good joke being played on the fat little professor. The whole class loved it, even Jill laughed.
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Stifling the urge to laugh or to get angry and kick ‘Bob’ out of his class the professor instead said, “Mmm. Ghost’s? What kind of ghost’s? White ones, black ones, ones with wings, maybe a purple dinosaur? Are you serious in your question?” By now the class was roaring in laughter. John the athlete was laughing so loud he dropped his phone on the floor.
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The reply by Leonard did not deter ‘Bob’. Calmly he said, “Professor Sheldon, you seem like a very educated and logical man. I imagine you know the realm of science very well and feel very secure in your knowledge of the world.” This was not a question rather a statement of the facts.
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“Yes. I am a man of science. There is no such thing as ghosts.”
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“And you are positive of this?” The tone in the voice now sounded amused.
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“Look Bob, I’ve let you have your fun at my expense. There is no such thing as ghosts, goblins, witches, trolls, zombi’s…Those are just stories designed for weak minds…”
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There was no answer or reply to the professors last statement. When he looked to see Bob, so too did the rest of the class, only there was nothing to see.
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This caused only a mild moment of discomfort for the professor as he quickly logged Bob in his mind as a nut job. Soon he and the class resumed the boring class pertaining to fear and the class was dismissed for the day with basically nothing being learned by anyone other than John the athlete learned via a text that one of his girlfriends was pregnant.
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The University of Berkley is located in a pretty setting. After the day of teaching young minds Leonard enjoyed a beer outside the school and played a game of chess with a friend of his, one who was also a logical, intelligent man. He usually won the games and today he did so again.
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After riding his bicycle home and after feeding his cat and taking a hot shower, the professor was in the middle of preparing a salad. He greatly loved vegetables to the point he was called a vegetarian. For him
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At this the whole class started laughing. Oh it was a good joke being played on the fat little professor. The whole class loved it, even Jill laughed.
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Stifling the urge to laugh or to get angry and kick ‘Bob’ out of his class the professor instead said, “Mmm. Ghost’s? What kind of ghost’s? White ones, black ones, ones with wings, maybe a purple dinosaur? Are you serious in your question?” By now the class was roaring in laughter. John the athlete was laughing so loud he dropped his phone on the floor.
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The reply by Leonard did not deter ‘Bob’. Calmly he said, “Professor Sheldon, you seem like a very educated and logical man. I imagine you know the realm of science very well and feel very secure in your knowledge of the world.” This was not a question rather a statement of the facts.
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“Yes. I am a man of science. There is no such thing as ghosts.”
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“And you are positive of this?” The tone in the voice now sounded amused.
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“Look Bob, I’ve let you have your fun at my expense. There is no such thing as ghosts, goblins, witches, trolls, zombi’s…Those are just stories designed for weak minds…”
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There was no answer or reply to the professors last statement. When he looked to see Bob, so too did the rest of the class, only there was nothing to see.
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This caused only a mild moment of discomfort for the professor as he quickly logged Bob in his mind as a nut job. Soon he and the class resumed the boring class pertaining to fear and the class was dismissed for the day with basically nothing being learned by anyone other than John the athlete learned via a text that one of his girlfriends was pregnant.
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The University of Berkley is located in a pretty setting. After the day of teaching young minds Leonard enjoyed a beer outside the school and played a game of chess with a friend of his, one who was also a logical, intelligent man. He usually won the games and today he did so again.
-
After riding his bicycle home and after feeding his cat and taking a hot shower, the professor was in the middle of preparing a salad. He greatly loved vegetables to the point he was called a vegetarian. For him
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meat only caused greater harm to the planet in the form of gas emission in the form of flatulence from cows and it caused bodily harm in the form of heart disease.
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It was a surprise on his face when his left arm went numb with pain and his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on his sternum. This look of surprise left his face to be replaced with a death mask as he keeled over dead from a heart attack. Sort of ironic seeing on how smart he was to eat healthy but death can be a bastard when it wants too…
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Opening his eyes Leonard felt no pain. He felt great in fact. It had been a long time since he last felt this good. Sitting up he saw he had been laying on his back on the floor of his kitchen. Standing up with a smile on his face he looked down at the floor and saw…himself.
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Yes, Leonard saw his body laying prone on the floor, just as it had fallen dead upon. He saw on his face the grimace of pain and death. He also saw that he truly had been a short, fat, balding man. Next to his body he also saw the remnants of his salad, but he did not think about that. He was thinking; DEAD…
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Leonard’s mind was, I mean, ‘was’, a very scientific and logical one. Even in death it tried to come to terms with what was currently happening. He knew for certain that when the human body died, that was it. No heaven, no hell, no nothing. Lights out...
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------------------------------------------------------ The End---------------------------------------------------------
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Of course, the end are only two stupid words in the English dictionary as there is never the end, there is only…
---------------------------------------------------The Change--------------------------------------------------------
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Yes, the good professor was not only dead but he was now, a ghost.
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As a ghost he had all his earthly memories, his thoughts, feelings; everything he had been when alive he was now owning, only the body was missing, along with the tactile feelings a body has. He now walked through walls, floated through ceilings…He was a typical ghost.
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Poor man, it took a few years for him to get used to being a ghost, and it was lonely being a ghost as he saw no other ghosts. His body long since cremated and his new ghostly body felt nothing physical. It
meat only caused greater harm to the planet in the form of gas emission in the form of flatulence from cows and it caused bodily harm in the form of heart disease.
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It was a surprise on his face when his left arm went numb with pain and his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on his sternum. This look of surprise left his face to be replaced with a death mask as he keeled over dead from a heart attack. Sort of ironic seeing on how smart he was to eat healthy but death can be a bastard when it wants too…
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Opening his eyes Leonard felt no pain. He felt great in fact. It had been a long time since he last felt this good. Sitting up he saw he had been laying on his back on the floor of his kitchen. Standing up with a smile on his face he looked down at the floor and saw…himself.
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Yes, Leonard saw his body laying prone on the floor, just as it had fallen dead upon. He saw on his face the grimace of pain and death. He also saw that he truly had been a short, fat, balding man. Next to his body he also saw the remnants of his salad, but he did not think about that. He was thinking; DEAD…
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Leonard’s mind was, I mean, ‘was’, a very scientific and logical one. Even in death it tried to come to terms with what was currently happening. He knew for certain that when the human body died, that was it. No heaven, no hell, no nothing. Lights out...
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------------------------------------------------------ The End---------------------------------------------------------
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Of course, the end are only two stupid words in the English dictionary as there is never the end, there is only…
---------------------------------------------------The Change--------------------------------------------------------
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Yes, the good professor was not only dead but he was now, a ghost.
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As a ghost he had all his earthly memories, his thoughts, feelings; everything he had been when alive he was now owning, only the body was missing, along with the tactile feelings a body has. He now walked through walls, floated through ceilings…He was a typical ghost.
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Poor man, it took a few years for him to get used to being a ghost, and it was lonely being a ghost as he saw no other ghosts. His body long since cremated and his new ghostly body felt nothing physical. It
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must be said though that it was good his mind had been so intelligent as it was through this intellect that prevented him from turning into a howling banshee or insane form of troubled spirit or poltergeist.
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Leonard got to witness new owners in his home, and there were many. Over the past fifty years there were more than seventy owners. Most stayed less than a year and only one crazy medium lasted more than two…Reason being of course, the place was haunted!
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He was a busy ghost. Trying through the logic of science to communicate with the land of the living. He used Morse code on the speakers of the homes sound system, he tried pictures on the television. He wrote in various languages – modern and ancient – on the steam covered mirror in the bathroom. He even tried entering the minds of the tenants as they lay sleeping. Needless to say, he scared the shit out of each and every owner of his old home. It could be said that he became their greatest fear.
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It was frustrating that Leonard could not connect with people. He was stuck in a world he could not escape. He felt anger, bitterness, and even boredom with his new ‘life’. That is until one day…
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The professor did not feel physical situations as a ghost cannot feel such. While living he had studied information on ghosts and he learned that in theory a ghost is an end product, something that at best was waiting to – pass on to another dimension; most zealots believe heaven or hell is the final stepping stone, but he soon found out that was another fairy tale.
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One day he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, only he had no hair and had never felt anything before since becoming a ghost, but today he not only felt it but when he turned around he saw a disfigured shape lunge at him, the color of changing black, and large fangs…
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He screamed loudly as the fangs bit into him. The pain was intense. The whole scene surreal. The lights in the home even went out as his scream caused the main breaker to trip in the electrical box.
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When he opened his eyes, everything was black. He still had all his intellect only now he did not have any body he could recognize. The setting he was in was not his old home. He had no contact with anything called, Earth. It was another world. The only thing he could see were ghosts, ones with human bodies, ones that were like what he once was. He had died once more, only this time as a ghost.
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Looking at his body he saw it was changing colors of black and that he had strange limbs, and he could not see but he knew his mouth was filled with large, sharp teeth.
must be said though that it was good his mind had been so intelligent as it was through this intellect that prevented him from turning into a howling banshee or insane form of troubled spirit or poltergeist.
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Leonard got to witness new owners in his home, and there were many. Over the past fifty years there were more than seventy owners. Most stayed less than a year and only one crazy medium lasted more than two…Reason being of course, the place was haunted!
-
He was a busy ghost. Trying through the logic of science to communicate with the land of the living. He used Morse code on the speakers of the homes sound system, he tried pictures on the television. He wrote in various languages – modern and ancient – on the steam covered mirror in the bathroom. He even tried entering the minds of the tenants as they lay sleeping. Needless to say, he scared the shit out of each and every owner of his old home. It could be said that he became their greatest fear.
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It was frustrating that Leonard could not connect with people. He was stuck in a world he could not escape. He felt anger, bitterness, and even boredom with his new ‘life’. That is until one day…
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The professor did not feel physical situations as a ghost cannot feel such. While living he had studied information on ghosts and he learned that in theory a ghost is an end product, something that at best was waiting to – pass on to another dimension; most zealots believe heaven or hell is the final stepping stone, but he soon found out that was another fairy tale.
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One day he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, only he had no hair and had never felt anything before since becoming a ghost, but today he not only felt it but when he turned around he saw a disfigured shape lunge at him, the color of changing black, and large fangs…
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He screamed loudly as the fangs bit into him. The pain was intense. The whole scene surreal. The lights in the home even went out as his scream caused the main breaker to trip in the electrical box.
-
When he opened his eyes, everything was black. He still had all his intellect only now he did not have any body he could recognize. The setting he was in was not his old home. He had no contact with anything called, Earth. It was another world. The only thing he could see were ghosts, ones with human bodies, ones that were like what he once was. He had died once more, only this time as a ghost.
-
Looking at his body he saw it was changing colors of black and that he had strange limbs, and he could not see but he knew his mouth was filled with large, sharp teeth.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Page 9
-
Yes, Leonard was now a ghost that haunts ghosts and in the centuries that followed he died as a ghost only to descend to another level of being a ghost. His shapes became what no mortal could even imagine, his thoughts and intellect learning sooooo much more about reality. Each level of ghost haunting/harming the level above. It seemed like an endless cycle.
-
At a period around twenty thousand earth years later in the timeline that Dr. Leonard Sheldon had died on Earth from a heart attack, he/it/whatever the hell he now was, heard a voice. It was the voice of ‘Bob’.
-
“So, professor, what do you fear?”
-
The silence only lasted two years until the professor answered, “Ghosts. I fear ghosts…”
-
The End
(actually, The change)
And so it was. Another story. This one about ghosts.
As a writer you will find it hard to get acceptance for strange stories. And if you mix God with strange stories and profanity? Impossible.
This story is now out of my system. If you're a writer and want it, take it. Play with it. Flush it to cyber hell.
-
Yes, Leonard was now a ghost that haunts ghosts and in the centuries that followed he died as a ghost only to descend to another level of being a ghost. His shapes became what no mortal could even imagine, his thoughts and intellect learning sooooo much more about reality. Each level of ghost haunting/harming the level above. It seemed like an endless cycle.
-
At a period around twenty thousand earth years later in the timeline that Dr. Leonard Sheldon had died on Earth from a heart attack, he/it/whatever the hell he now was, heard a voice. It was the voice of ‘Bob’.
-
“So, professor, what do you fear?”
-
The silence only lasted two years until the professor answered, “Ghosts. I fear ghosts…”
-
The End
(actually, The change)
And so it was. Another story. This one about ghosts.
As a writer you will find it hard to get acceptance for strange stories. And if you mix God with strange stories and profanity? Impossible.
This story is now out of my system. If you're a writer and want it, take it. Play with it. Flush it to cyber hell.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Outside, winter sheds its white coat. The change of season smells rich as the moisture answers the winds commands, falling against pane and timber. In the horizon work awaits a new week. Weed seeds start to stir with longing as frozen gives way to mud. All, very inspirational.
"Hey Robin, why don't you shed your brain, you don't use it anyway. Why not give it to me to eat?"
Good to see you this morning parasite. My brain is mostly oatmeal and you don't like oatmeal, but if you insist, here...
Smiling, the parasite took a nibble... "Ack! (gag) what the hell is your brain made of? Tastes like feathers."
Close. I've been called, 'bird brain,' many times so why not.
(gag, phooey, yuck...) and we leave this scene as the parasite gave Robin his brain back, but not before dropping it on the ground and peeing on it.
***
Well, an interesting three months to be sure. A lot happened, a lot always happens. People hating, fighting, fucking, dying, being born. Same timeline, same stories, and yet... a bit different. Evolution may seem slow to those participating but for monsters, as obvious a change as any could be.
Did you know that writing is not a novel idea for humans only? Music, art; all what sets humanity apart from monkeys and goldfish... You should see, read, and feel what aliens do. But that's just fantasy, this 'alien' shit. Little green, slime covered creatures hovering above some cows in Colorado, slicing cows up into pieces (art) and conducting experiments on humans (comedy) and then flying to the far side of Jupiter and scribbling love letters on frozen methane clouds (writing)
Human writers have to deal with this planet, but even some humans are different from the rest of the herd. Some are special. Some are strange. Some are smoke and mirrors. And so, a poem is born:
Clouds reaching the bottom, pit from above dropping, roots tangled, embracing
Wrapped in fog, limiting reach of hands reaching, budded leaf shedding frosted kiss.
Above this below, a sun laughs, fiery breath teasing smoldering lust
Branches now naked, a world to see what needs
revealed
Breasts supple, rooted swaying as birds nest
Thigh moist with dew cast by past coolness
Belly extending past doubt of Winters curse
Season of Spring arrives announced by winds pride
Carrying change and life.
"Hey Robin, why don't you shed your brain, you don't use it anyway. Why not give it to me to eat?"
Good to see you this morning parasite. My brain is mostly oatmeal and you don't like oatmeal, but if you insist, here...
Smiling, the parasite took a nibble... "Ack! (gag) what the hell is your brain made of? Tastes like feathers."
Close. I've been called, 'bird brain,' many times so why not.
(gag, phooey, yuck...) and we leave this scene as the parasite gave Robin his brain back, but not before dropping it on the ground and peeing on it.
***
Well, an interesting three months to be sure. A lot happened, a lot always happens. People hating, fighting, fucking, dying, being born. Same timeline, same stories, and yet... a bit different. Evolution may seem slow to those participating but for monsters, as obvious a change as any could be.
Did you know that writing is not a novel idea for humans only? Music, art; all what sets humanity apart from monkeys and goldfish... You should see, read, and feel what aliens do. But that's just fantasy, this 'alien' shit. Little green, slime covered creatures hovering above some cows in Colorado, slicing cows up into pieces (art) and conducting experiments on humans (comedy) and then flying to the far side of Jupiter and scribbling love letters on frozen methane clouds (writing)
Human writers have to deal with this planet, but even some humans are different from the rest of the herd. Some are special. Some are strange. Some are smoke and mirrors. And so, a poem is born:
Clouds reaching the bottom, pit from above dropping, roots tangled, embracing
Wrapped in fog, limiting reach of hands reaching, budded leaf shedding frosted kiss.
Above this below, a sun laughs, fiery breath teasing smoldering lust
Branches now naked, a world to see what needs
revealed
Breasts supple, rooted swaying as birds nest
Thigh moist with dew cast by past coolness
Belly extending past doubt of Winters curse
Season of Spring arrives announced by winds pride
Carrying change and life.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Speaking of green little alien creatures, a little green comet is gonna zip by in a few days. Cruising at a distance of about 7 million miles. Comets are always good inspiration for wee little human folk, even a few leprechauns love a good shot o green.
Oh, wait. Come to think of it, this is Feb and the green stuff is supposed to take place in March. And it snowed outside last night covering up the new green plants.
"Robin, your mind is green..."
How so?
"After peeing on it the other day, remember? Amazing colors it changed."
Then green it is and green plus comets plus aliens plus pee... all good for a poem:
***
Life of Creation
Traced lines crossed pristine white
Treasure map of sorts, seeded bed rumbles.
Up where eyes seek gods, crosses seeds of heaven
Coldness of space matching step with coldness of snow.
Their hands were there in the making, spraying waste and life
Tombed to those rejecting
and cold.
Heat faced with such sparkle, Lights revealed
Colors compete
as where it dribbles, rocks to fall, asteroids whirl, fairies squat...
X marks the spot.
Oh, wait. Come to think of it, this is Feb and the green stuff is supposed to take place in March. And it snowed outside last night covering up the new green plants.
"Robin, your mind is green..."
How so?
"After peeing on it the other day, remember? Amazing colors it changed."
Then green it is and green plus comets plus aliens plus pee... all good for a poem:
***
Life of Creation
Traced lines crossed pristine white
Treasure map of sorts, seeded bed rumbles.
Up where eyes seek gods, crosses seeds of heaven
Coldness of space matching step with coldness of snow.
Their hands were there in the making, spraying waste and life
Tombed to those rejecting
and cold.
Heat faced with such sparkle, Lights revealed
Colors compete
as where it dribbles, rocks to fall, asteroids whirl, fairies squat...
X marks the spot.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
February is the month for love. Why is that? Why not all months, why just the one denoting the beginning of life in the northern climes?
For death, Death owns all months on your planet. It feeds off your anger, your hate, your ambitions of power. It has the power over all. Love, joy, peace... Death is king, is queen, it rules your world.
"Who ya talking to nut job," the parasite was munching on cold oatmeal and thinking."
That's not me talking parasite, it is Death writing, I'm just watching what it has to say. Death has no power over me.
"That's freaky. Hey, haven't used the word 'freaky' in awhile. Is it still a popular word?"
There of course was no answer as Robin was gone, so too, the parasite. What stayed though was the power of Death, and its words to a world of those lost.
***
Hourglass of Life
Wiping vibrant, lines of a path journeyed, where signs of shadows cross
rich fluids steeped in birth gain moments tick, hands upon a clock.
Pendulum hanging from chains cast, foundry of lost, fires of life, ice of life
back-to-forth, yet in the middle, it stops.
Power taken with little and so much, cost
To take all with whims of bone, wind, and dust.
Futility, lost hope, while so many think and live as if in control, spectral laugh...
Hope, success, while many appreciate temporary, again, and again, and ever.
Child of that lost, grab my hand, embrace while you stand to lay
join with and begin, your journey over before it starts.
For death, Death owns all months on your planet. It feeds off your anger, your hate, your ambitions of power. It has the power over all. Love, joy, peace... Death is king, is queen, it rules your world.
"Who ya talking to nut job," the parasite was munching on cold oatmeal and thinking."
That's not me talking parasite, it is Death writing, I'm just watching what it has to say. Death has no power over me.
"That's freaky. Hey, haven't used the word 'freaky' in awhile. Is it still a popular word?"
There of course was no answer as Robin was gone, so too, the parasite. What stayed though was the power of Death, and its words to a world of those lost.
***
Hourglass of Life
Wiping vibrant, lines of a path journeyed, where signs of shadows cross
rich fluids steeped in birth gain moments tick, hands upon a clock.
Pendulum hanging from chains cast, foundry of lost, fires of life, ice of life
back-to-forth, yet in the middle, it stops.
Power taken with little and so much, cost
To take all with whims of bone, wind, and dust.
Futility, lost hope, while so many think and live as if in control, spectral laugh...
Hope, success, while many appreciate temporary, again, and again, and ever.
Child of that lost, grab my hand, embrace while you stand to lay
join with and begin, your journey over before it starts.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
What a beautiful day out there today. So much inspiration. So much in the ground waking.
***
11 February 2017
In line with and it straightened
Around the corner pulling, ripping, tearing
Thorn released to burn.
Deep below the pulse is felt
Above the blessing
And now.
Called upon by this, this moment
Sun carving a spoon, elf magic in the making
and now marriage to the Moon.
***
11 February 2017
In line with and it straightened
Around the corner pulling, ripping, tearing
Thorn released to burn.
Deep below the pulse is felt
Above the blessing
And now.
Called upon by this, this moment
Sun carving a spoon, elf magic in the making
and now marriage to the Moon.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Scratching shell such so it seems
Seems such so to impart visual upon the white plain
Up sheer seams such hight bringing command to height
Lost in horizons such shadows obeyed
Left and right from form all around
the circle such domain
Wavering glimmer this beam such to memory impart
brought to light
Gears meshed such black grease and oil
bellowing emotions released.
Seems such so to impart visual upon the white plain
Up sheer seams such hight bringing command to height
Lost in horizons such shadows obeyed
Left and right from form all around
the circle such domain
Wavering glimmer this beam such to memory impart
brought to light
Gears meshed such black grease and oil
bellowing emotions released.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
It was nice to see Aphelion accepted one of my strange stories this month. Much thanks to Lester. Laughed my ass off hearing about the 'cat'.
Also, if you're a writer reading this might I suggest you enter the monthly flash challenge? I've had a ball and it is definitely a fun endeavor. Who gives a shit if people don't like it, write it anyway. This months challenge is one filled with great potential. Mistakes. I don't make mistakes, I combine others mistakes and take ownership of them. So, if you're a reader only, why not make the mistake of becoming a writer. Also a thanks to Nate and now Dan for working and helping make such challenges possible.
Weather absolutely sucks at the moment, unless you're a raindrop, duck, or mud hungry corgi female dog named, Tinkerbell. (She is the first dog I've owned that craves being completely filthy. She actually smiles.)
***
A Poem to fit the mood.
If separated pane of glass were made open
Screen between in and out
Would the tears of sky meet laughter?
White sheets of cloud clutter blue canvas
Pouring
Dripping wet
Inside, dry.
Falling, one atop the other
Splashing reflection of mud
A dog finding joy, so too, to bring inside.
silence and ponder until...
Opening wide the window, embracing all and include
Laughing and smiling while rain falls still
Above the clouds the Sun joins.
Also, if you're a writer reading this might I suggest you enter the monthly flash challenge? I've had a ball and it is definitely a fun endeavor. Who gives a shit if people don't like it, write it anyway. This months challenge is one filled with great potential. Mistakes. I don't make mistakes, I combine others mistakes and take ownership of them. So, if you're a reader only, why not make the mistake of becoming a writer. Also a thanks to Nate and now Dan for working and helping make such challenges possible.
Weather absolutely sucks at the moment, unless you're a raindrop, duck, or mud hungry corgi female dog named, Tinkerbell. (She is the first dog I've owned that craves being completely filthy. She actually smiles.)
***
A Poem to fit the mood.
If separated pane of glass were made open
Screen between in and out
Would the tears of sky meet laughter?
White sheets of cloud clutter blue canvas
Pouring
Dripping wet
Inside, dry.
Falling, one atop the other
Splashing reflection of mud
A dog finding joy, so too, to bring inside.
silence and ponder until...
Opening wide the window, embracing all and include
Laughing and smiling while rain falls still
Above the clouds the Sun joins.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Poetry of a Star
Lips of winters morn to taste budded ground
Tongue of moon lapping above frozen soul
Coyotes tracked hunt where ending in the hunger of salvation.
Fog bearing the weight of day until
sadness fills apart
and still.
Now, this moment of fading day
where owl meets the shadows of death
comes more of sinew pulled strain.
Relief...
Where is there lightness of burden
when
where noting nothing remains.
Hear now, those without thought of empty yesterday, only full of glutted tomorrow
with words to remain
hollow
a cave where there is no entry for those trying
to escape.
A single singing star full of silence
void of space
leaving a comet of tears.
Lips of winters morn to taste budded ground
Tongue of moon lapping above frozen soul
Coyotes tracked hunt where ending in the hunger of salvation.
Fog bearing the weight of day until
sadness fills apart
and still.
Now, this moment of fading day
where owl meets the shadows of death
comes more of sinew pulled strain.
Relief...
Where is there lightness of burden
when
where noting nothing remains.
Hear now, those without thought of empty yesterday, only full of glutted tomorrow
with words to remain
hollow
a cave where there is no entry for those trying
to escape.
A single singing star full of silence
void of space
leaving a comet of tears.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
On his face showed a television experience
William Shatner
Captain
Lawyer
Lover
Comedian
Hit with the reality of time given
His arrival into
His depart
Unconstructed like no beam
no up or down of particles
a phase of given reality
An answer given in such a simple snow ball
Remembered in the night
A space of travel
to rest in peace.
William Shatner
Captain
Lawyer
Lover
Comedian
Hit with the reality of time given
His arrival into
His depart
Unconstructed like no beam
no up or down of particles
a phase of given reality
An answer given in such a simple snow ball
Remembered in the night
A space of travel
to rest in peace.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Feeling a bit inspired to write today. Not strange considering that is what writers are supposed to do, be inspired. Today the inspiration flowed from the sunlight, the wind, the weather, and the first wild honey bee of the season.
Sitting today on the excavator seat, I turned the machine off and enjoyed the sky. A little honeybee buzzed in front of me and landed on my left hand. It was most enjoyable to watch its travel on my fingers. It then took flight and landed on my right hand. A natural blessing much enjoyed. And then, the moment was over, leaving a smile on the face. It is wonderful to enjoy the simple things in life
***
Sitting here, sounds of a television flicker in the ear, leaving meaningless pictures soon forgotten and best left unseen.
Sitting there today. Wind driving the moment. Sky filling the plate of awake. A temperature leaving short shirt sleeved skin, feeling great.
So nice to see such a small golden winged queen.
Her wings beat the gravity with such ease, as she broke through to another dimension
taking me by the hand to be.
Flying high, so high, so sudden. Electrified. Exhilarating. Exciting.
Alive.
Free for a moment.
It was soon over, sitting there with memory
Looking out at snow capped mountains and hills
Listening to the ground stir as seeds awake
Feeling alive and better now, to make it through another day.
Sitting today on the excavator seat, I turned the machine off and enjoyed the sky. A little honeybee buzzed in front of me and landed on my left hand. It was most enjoyable to watch its travel on my fingers. It then took flight and landed on my right hand. A natural blessing much enjoyed. And then, the moment was over, leaving a smile on the face. It is wonderful to enjoy the simple things in life
***
Sitting here, sounds of a television flicker in the ear, leaving meaningless pictures soon forgotten and best left unseen.
Sitting there today. Wind driving the moment. Sky filling the plate of awake. A temperature leaving short shirt sleeved skin, feeling great.
So nice to see such a small golden winged queen.
Her wings beat the gravity with such ease, as she broke through to another dimension
taking me by the hand to be.
Flying high, so high, so sudden. Electrified. Exhilarating. Exciting.
Alive.
Free for a moment.
It was soon over, sitting there with memory
Looking out at snow capped mountains and hills
Listening to the ground stir as seeds awake
Feeling alive and better now, to make it through another day.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Ha! Last night was most enjoyable. Kate, allergic to dog saliva, Noah ready to spill guts with a wooden sword, Heather ripe in belly, Marty realizing the difference between asleep and awake, Adrian learning the human art of conniving, Jacob the intelligent asking his smiling questions, Eunoch a bumper car of discovery, Margareta the traveler of sorrow, Rodriguez with tears and joy (his choice of conflict) C was C and while teaching was learning. Robin, he just sat there and absorbed the moment.
"Absorbed the moment? What is Robin a fucking sponge? The guy needs serious mental help..."
Who ya talking to parasite? Yourself again?
"Well, yeah. I mean, no. I'm talkin to you you moron. Who the hell do you think I'm talkin too?"
With you parasite, one never knows do they.
***
Price of admission is only awake.
Impression easy though they make; recipe of the pie sliced to share, so many pieces
Around a table seated, O-pen mouths of appeasement, tingling with hungers sated
Fellowship taking place in a world so fast paced the shoes outstrip growth of toes and fingers
This technology so many embrace, if only they could cast and return to the circle of flame.
Little people at play being big while big retreats to those far off, small places.
I heard, you know, as the fingers glazed harmonic tensions
Inside, so much
Outside, the rain
Everywhere, if only and only if, it were not so real
this life of...
"Absorbed the moment? What is Robin a fucking sponge? The guy needs serious mental help..."
Who ya talking to parasite? Yourself again?
"Well, yeah. I mean, no. I'm talkin to you you moron. Who the hell do you think I'm talkin too?"
With you parasite, one never knows do they.
***
Price of admission is only awake.
Impression easy though they make; recipe of the pie sliced to share, so many pieces
Around a table seated, O-pen mouths of appeasement, tingling with hungers sated
Fellowship taking place in a world so fast paced the shoes outstrip growth of toes and fingers
This technology so many embrace, if only they could cast and return to the circle of flame.
Little people at play being big while big retreats to those far off, small places.
I heard, you know, as the fingers glazed harmonic tensions
Inside, so much
Outside, the rain
Everywhere, if only and only if, it were not so real
this life of...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Hey parasite, what do you think about humans making abortion legal?
"I think it sucks. Heeheehee. Nah, just yanking your pathetic chain Robin. Actually, for as crude as I am and my love of sexual lust with dolphins, legalizing abortion just proves how ignorant humans really are."
I absolutely agree parasite. Hard to believe you think the same way.
"So Robin, why are your panties in a wad about abortion today?"
Well, because on the television, a very ignorant and self-perceived perception of 'well educated' just spouted about the virtues of aborting/killing another human. So, being inspired. A story about abortion.
***
Life Force
Space is deep in forever; boundaries so far they go full circle - again and again and again.
In Space resides the dimensions of 4, 5, and (a lot).
In space exists life on many concepts, all with one great unifying moment - Life.
One form of life was a traveler. A form of intellect finding species interesting. Binding itself with, and learning. In return for the attachment, it bestows certain gifts. Gifts given that greatly enrich the species. It has the power to bestow Life and also, to take it.
"How are you doing Sue? Did it hurt?"
"No, that was my fifth abortion. The first one made me feel scared but now it's nothing but another procedure."
Sue loved fucking, I mean, who doesn't? And she did not care if she got pregnant or not. In this day and age of legalized abortion the procedure was as easy as taking a pill, or if lazy, waiting a few weeks and having the crap inside sucked out.
What Sue did not realize was her last pregnancy was different. It was one where a very special form of life entered her body. It was prepared to grow and experience the life span of a human. At first the form found it very enjoyable. The human mammals appeared to be a nurturing species. They actually appeared capable of love. And then, after eight weeks found out how barbaric and cruel the species truly was.
After the body it inhabited was destroyed and discarded like garbage, the life form had learned all it needed about this world.
The following freeze, followed by the intense inferno, follow by the vortex up into space where all life-forms on the planet earth were sucked up and into, showed that Life can give and Life can take. Earth was now to be lifeless until the next seed took hold.
As to what would have occurred had Sue given birth to this traveler... This would have brought into the world the gift of humanity becoming disease free, stronger, more intelligent, more compassionate, and yes, actually know the true definition of love...
"Damn Robin, that was fucked up..."
No, abortion is fucked up. Totally the example of just how primitive this world really is.
"I think it sucks. Heeheehee. Nah, just yanking your pathetic chain Robin. Actually, for as crude as I am and my love of sexual lust with dolphins, legalizing abortion just proves how ignorant humans really are."
I absolutely agree parasite. Hard to believe you think the same way.
"So Robin, why are your panties in a wad about abortion today?"
Well, because on the television, a very ignorant and self-perceived perception of 'well educated' just spouted about the virtues of aborting/killing another human. So, being inspired. A story about abortion.
***
Life Force
Space is deep in forever; boundaries so far they go full circle - again and again and again.
In Space resides the dimensions of 4, 5, and (a lot).
In space exists life on many concepts, all with one great unifying moment - Life.
One form of life was a traveler. A form of intellect finding species interesting. Binding itself with, and learning. In return for the attachment, it bestows certain gifts. Gifts given that greatly enrich the species. It has the power to bestow Life and also, to take it.
"How are you doing Sue? Did it hurt?"
"No, that was my fifth abortion. The first one made me feel scared but now it's nothing but another procedure."
Sue loved fucking, I mean, who doesn't? And she did not care if she got pregnant or not. In this day and age of legalized abortion the procedure was as easy as taking a pill, or if lazy, waiting a few weeks and having the crap inside sucked out.
What Sue did not realize was her last pregnancy was different. It was one where a very special form of life entered her body. It was prepared to grow and experience the life span of a human. At first the form found it very enjoyable. The human mammals appeared to be a nurturing species. They actually appeared capable of love. And then, after eight weeks found out how barbaric and cruel the species truly was.
After the body it inhabited was destroyed and discarded like garbage, the life form had learned all it needed about this world.
The following freeze, followed by the intense inferno, follow by the vortex up into space where all life-forms on the planet earth were sucked up and into, showed that Life can give and Life can take. Earth was now to be lifeless until the next seed took hold.
As to what would have occurred had Sue given birth to this traveler... This would have brought into the world the gift of humanity becoming disease free, stronger, more intelligent, more compassionate, and yes, actually know the true definition of love...
"Damn Robin, that was fucked up..."
No, abortion is fucked up. Totally the example of just how primitive this world really is.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Got inspired by the fact on how well I can lose money. Some people say, "If I won a billion dollars I don't know how I could spend it all..." Ha! I could spend that in a couple of hours.
For those who really like to lose money like me, might I suggest the stock market? Or, if you want to really lose money, give up your job and write full time.
Currently playing with a company with the symbol DNRG. It is a shitty company with little chance for success yet for such slim chances, there still is a chance. Now, I'll probably lose my investment (which for me, is huge) but so what. Money really is made to lose as it too, is nothing more than an illusion. After all what is money based on? Faith? Trust? Hope? Maybe in the past when the U.S. dollar was backed by gold it was worth something, but then again, what is gold? Just another illusion.
Today, I was greatly inspired by working in my greenhouse. Grinding up last years stems. Watering the dormant strawberries. Watching the rhubarb pop out of the soil. Seeing flowers reach above the cold.
Today, a poem about the illusion of wealth.
***
Real
Grasping at the breast to suckle.
Warm skin of mother to accompany the sound of a beating heart.
Sleeping soundly only to call in cry
To receive attention in reply.
Sweat falling from the brow while lost in a field of work
Tilling until harvest; enriching grain bin to feed through the coming many winter nights
Sewing cloth to cause protection and comfort from natures strife.
A sun rises and sets upon the days of mankind
Scurrying about with thoughts rising above what is real
in life.
Fast cars, fast boats, fast planes
Silicone breasts to replace those where real gives way to deceive
A baby grows to absorb lies, toys, electronic games, a world enriched by that
not real
leading to an adult giving up sweat of brow, giving up the smell of fresh cut hay, giving up their souls
for a nations coin.
Why?
What choice when there is the natural and struggle for life
or
neon lights, glitzy glamor, television, comforts perceived by that purchased with artificial treasure.
For my ashes will blow free with the wind, riding with bird, fish, bug, and beast.
Never to know the illusion of being buried deep,
whole
embalmed
looking as if a statue of plastic
encased in an illusion aided by metal with a engraved marble telling an illusionary world
there is another fool buried below, one who embraced the wealth not real.
For those who really like to lose money like me, might I suggest the stock market? Or, if you want to really lose money, give up your job and write full time.
Currently playing with a company with the symbol DNRG. It is a shitty company with little chance for success yet for such slim chances, there still is a chance. Now, I'll probably lose my investment (which for me, is huge) but so what. Money really is made to lose as it too, is nothing more than an illusion. After all what is money based on? Faith? Trust? Hope? Maybe in the past when the U.S. dollar was backed by gold it was worth something, but then again, what is gold? Just another illusion.
Today, I was greatly inspired by working in my greenhouse. Grinding up last years stems. Watering the dormant strawberries. Watching the rhubarb pop out of the soil. Seeing flowers reach above the cold.
Today, a poem about the illusion of wealth.
***
Real
Grasping at the breast to suckle.
Warm skin of mother to accompany the sound of a beating heart.
Sleeping soundly only to call in cry
To receive attention in reply.
Sweat falling from the brow while lost in a field of work
Tilling until harvest; enriching grain bin to feed through the coming many winter nights
Sewing cloth to cause protection and comfort from natures strife.
A sun rises and sets upon the days of mankind
Scurrying about with thoughts rising above what is real
in life.
Fast cars, fast boats, fast planes
Silicone breasts to replace those where real gives way to deceive
A baby grows to absorb lies, toys, electronic games, a world enriched by that
not real
leading to an adult giving up sweat of brow, giving up the smell of fresh cut hay, giving up their souls
for a nations coin.
Why?
What choice when there is the natural and struggle for life
or
neon lights, glitzy glamor, television, comforts perceived by that purchased with artificial treasure.
For my ashes will blow free with the wind, riding with bird, fish, bug, and beast.
Never to know the illusion of being buried deep,
whole
embalmed
looking as if a statue of plastic
encased in an illusion aided by metal with a engraved marble telling an illusionary world
there is another fool buried below, one who embraced the wealth not real.