Lust

I want that. I need that. I have it. Well, my dad has it. I didn't see that happening, but it is, and I accept that. The Apple iPad. This huge mall-like structure has it all: the biggest starbucks that stretches for eternity, a giant costco-like store with more fruit than any can imagine, and Apple products on every corner. She is here, with me, by my side as I wander in a daze in sheer amazement of my glorious surroundings. I'm somewhat expecting a faraway friend's visit, but not fully, when she appears and quickly comes up to me with the hugest expression on her face. It is so good to see her again, in person. But there is a problem. The new device we just purchased is broken, and not only that, it is lost, left behind, probably forgotten for a moment when visiting the land of eternal coffee. We return with haste, and there she is, already there, iPad in hand, fiddling with the various features as much as the limited electronics could perform. I hesitate to allow this to go on, and snatch it away with extreme caution. There is a fight, but not between us, no in the least, but between two men on the far side of the shopping center. Everyone is gathering, I must be there, with this device in hand, before the match may commence. We all rush once more all the way there, and we arrive, ready as ever, only to find the officials confused and demanding some sort of prerequisite. We all stand and wait in disappointment. When will it begin? Who will win? Will any serious injury ensue? Will we ever know?

Double

Sitting on a couch in a room full of people I love, I get a phone call. "Heyyyy!" The weird thing is, you're right here, not on the phone. Oh, it's simply your other self. You see, one version of you is here, with me in this state, lovely, beautiful, brunette you, and the other version is there, miles upon miles across the way, curls, blonde, crazy. Here you queries as to who is on the line, and I answer, "It's your other self." You're eyes become instantly ecstatic with excitement as you gesture desire to use the phone, to have the chance to speak to this other you far, far away. I withhold. You persevere. I drift into another world watching you and only you so closely as you look my way and smile in playful cheer. I'm taken to another place, a place of utter joy and love, love for all that is you. I see your face, your eyes, and into your soul. In this moment, there is perfect peace, silence of the mind. There is only you.

Foreign Cloud

Recollect. Recall. Remember.

Island life: water all around, shallow seas surrounding on all sides, the people crowding the landscape (and extra shallow waterscape) that remains untouched, unaltered from its natural state of harsh jagged rock and slimy colorful wildlife. Another contextually usual day on this neighborhood-sized island. The mainland, of course, is just a short distance away, with its towering skyscrapers and bustling city. The clouds in the sky are beautiful and few. And the day is windless, bright, and just right. A sudden commotion, such a terrible uproar. All the inhabitants rise in unison and face the same direction, pointing their view to the city, or rather, just above the city. A giant, dark, odd-shaped cloud came slowly down and stopped right over the highest high-rise. The bright sky darkened, clouds rolled in from all sides, people silenced in horror, as the darkest, largest cloud sifted away into the atmosphere to reveal a huge ship, a spaceship, something never before seen by any man. They were here, arriving with such fear in their wake. Why have they come? From where do they hail? What do they want? The nearby military base quickly informs us that it is in fact an alien life form, something nonhuman, who have come to confer with the government of the earth. Not just America, but the planet as a whole. Our wild human imaginations create so many postulations and notions as to their reasons, their appearance, etc. But these things may never be known. The circular craft simply remains still in its place, in a position as to suggest certain superiority of race over humanity. A tractor beam shoots down from the central core, down into the city, but nothing appears to move between the ship and the earth. All stand watching in fearful curiosity of what events are about to unfold. Suddenly I am filled with knowledge. Knowledge about human origins, the purpose of our creation, and why the extraterrestrials have come at this time. We are a byproduct of the visitors, who are in fact not visitors at all. They were on earth originally, and created us in an experimental attempt to create a better race, to see what we in this form could achieve. They found our technology more advanced than expected, and are quite proud of humanity as a whole. They have been living far above the earth, though not light-years away. Just beyond the atmosphere, but invisible to human eyes or instruments. It was time for a check-up. As this and more was all flooding into my mind, the sky began to brighten again and the spacecraft accelerated upward until it was no longer visible, leaving dark clouds and fear behind. Why had this revelation occurred to me? Had everyone else present experienced the same? What do we do now? These questions remained unanswered as the next events took their place. All attention was still slightly diverted in the direction of the city when I caught a glimpse of something peculiar in the water. A small boat, no bigger than the size of a toy slowly approached, a video camera hanging from its front, watching our every move. It came very close, to a point at which I could then see that there was not only the camera, but another object attached as well. A rocket? A miniature missile? Surely this is just some modern technical toy of some kind. An uproar rising from the voices of the people again, and without warning and out of nowhere, there are similar boats in all directions, but much much larger and without the camera, all silently aimed in the direction of our small island, our homes, our people. Without skipping a beat, the missiles fired, and chaos took over. Instant destruction and death everywhere. Direct explosive contact with houses and humans in every direction. And it was all over within but a second. I remained as a survivor, but I knew there was little time to lose before the next wave would be coming. Why is this happening? Why the sudden destruction? Such overwhelming thoughts bearing down on my mind amidst the chaos. The little boy near me I grab and start running with all my might. He had lost his two parents and sister just moments ago. We run and dive into the nearby sea, swimming with all our might to get away from the small island, our home. We swim off into a dream with no end, a story that has never been told, into a life that never was.

Stone Ruins

Down, down the swerving mountainside we ride, handlebars grasped tight. I fear, "We're going a little too fast, man!" But he continues to ride his bike ahead of me, several hundred feet in front. SHOOM! BAM! ...CRASH! Just in front of myself a car drives from hidden beyond the next bend across and through the guardrail of the corner I am approaching, and drops helplessly over the edge. !!! I coast quickly to the corner, the cliff. My friend stops in his tracks and flips over the handlebars; I'm too blown away to really notice. When I peer over the edge of the cliff, I find a old bridge structure, ruins really, with large stone pillars. The ill-fated vehicle had driven off and straight into one of these two standing pillars, the rear sticking outward towards me, the front completely in the partially-crumbled pillar. Other vehicles have more minor damage around the scene, and a few people seem to be OK and making their way to the pillared car. I make my way down the site, and attempt to offer any assistance possible. I walk behind the wall, made up in part by the large pillars, and hear voices, "You need to leave." "This is none of your business." "Get out of here!" A gunshot is fired in my direction and hits some of the stones near my head. I duck in cover and wonder what in the world is the deal. I use my cellular phone as a weapon, a feature I had never previously discovered. I retrieve a shotgun from a fallen pursuer. At this point, my only chance for survival is to take them all out, at least until they give up. I breathe. It may be last. I breathe. A window is above my head, and the enemy is just on the other side. I take a breath. Quickly I stand up and smash through the window with the butt of the shotgun into the face of the first man I saw, glass slicing his face, his eyes, his head. One down for the count. I instantly go for the next guy, smashing the gun into his face as well with great success. It appears I've taken out 2 of 3 men who are still out to get me, the third right there next to them. He is frightened and I continue to utilize my element of surprise to my advantage. He fires his weapon, and luckily, misses. I retaliate hastily and smash the last face in with my almighty shotgun. All three of them are down, out cold, dead for all I know. The battle seems to be concluded as a I cautiously snoop around the scene, checking for others, and finished it is. It became known that the identity of the victor that day was unknown, and that he was never to be hunted again. It was me. And I would set out to discover the secrets kept by the dead that day, but they were never revealed to me, and thus will remain a mystery until the day I am also dead.

The Night Terror of March 17

What do we do. What do we do. What is going on. Where are we doing. Why are we even doing this. What do we do. Aimless thinking. Planning without direction. Done. "Let's go here!" She excitedly suggests. But why? Why would we go there. A western style building, wooden pillars across the porch, stood in the near distance, glowing faintly from the dim torches mounted on its walls. It stood back in the darkness. We stand in the parking lot outside. OK! We run hurriedly toward the structure. What is holding me back. I slow. She runs on. "Come on!" Wait. I must run. Something is very strange. She comes back to me as I back away. I look around bewildered. There is something very horrible about this place. It's getting blacker. Darker. Evil. I try to kiss her and hold her in my arms. But she shrinks, ages backward, into a small infant. Lips touch, and I am confused, scared, and mystified. What. Is. This. I set the infant down and wonder. People in that car. What are they doing. Three of them. Threesome. I look in disgust. They return the stare, and the faces shapeshift into frightening, demonic expressions. The eyes stretch back and sink in, darkness swallows their being, mouths widen and turn black as hell, skin turns ashy and lined, and a shrieking inner squeal is heard in my head. I must run. I must leave. Get me out of this dark, creepy place. I must get out. I wake. I open my eyes. Fear rages within and evil swarms without. Must wake up. Black figures flashing all around the room. They fill up every space, hording, squealing, swarming all around me. There must be 100 or more flying all over. I cannot move. I have to wake up and rid of these demons. I see no angels, only demons. I shake. I fear. I panic. I wake.

W/O Mustard

"Her name is Jill." he interjected. I had gone to McDonald's to snag a few double cheeseburgers, one with onion, the other without, and both without mustard.  The line took a very long time, and everyone in front of me was rather impatient. People were crowded around the counter like it was a Wendy's. I'm finally one person away from ordering, and Richard is ordering already from the other line. Some American chic walks straight past in front of me and places her order. I get pissed. Richard and I meet up standing side by side at the counter waiting, after the above order is placed. I had a little trouble explaining it to the register though, and asked a uniformed girl to check to make sure it was right, Richard interjected, "Her name is Jill." I instantly looked at her name tag. "Jill" I laughed, "Oh really, do you know her?" I'm chasing down the head cook now, making sure he knows no mustard on either dollar burger, because I'm still not convinced they understood. He acknowledges and I leave in peace. I see that cutter girl in her car in the parking lot, tinted windows, and I flip the bird, then hurriedly stroll to my car. I drive away. I want my food.

The Dead

I walk into a barn. I am having a nightmare. Why am I shaking? Why do I feel a desperate need to pull out of reality, to some alternate world? These feelings begin faintly, almost unnoticeable at first. I cross the threshold. It is dimly lit in the barnhouse. The cow stalls are empty. Life has fled from the old place. Something draws me in, while yet something elsewhere beckons me away. The former something, though, is stronger, and I enter in full curiosity. Words are entering my head, eager to escape audibly into the stale air of the small barn. They are not English, nor are they any language I have ever heard before then. It was from beyond. The shaking increases, the need to pull away is shooting upward inside. I speak. I shout. The words I say are completely strange to me. This is when three, then four, then five or six men rush into the room. "Stop! Stop speaking!" The shuffling sound of the hay on the ground against their frantic feet, their screaming voices, are fading away. I see a haze settling and appearing all around the room. "It is the language of the dead!" Figures are forming in the haze, as darkness sets in as well. They are faint figures of old men and women, so very vague, a child or two as well scattered among them. The Dead. Their voices are also growing in volume, and they speak in unison, and in full synchronization to my own speech. They pull me hard as I feel now that there is nothing to be considered but simply getting the hell out of here. And that I did, or so I thought. With one strong final pull of the men on my body, forcing me out of the barn, I also pulled out from the dream. I had escaped. But this is often the hardest part, the scariest, the most frightening, and also always the very most curious. I had indeed escaped the dream, the images of that unreal dimension of the wood barn, the figures, the hay, the men, the windows, but sleep I had not. I was trapped, again, in that place where I can see some other form of reality or dimension, but had (usually) no ability to move. Always do I shake, so very much, from the inside out, frightened beyond measure, a feeling as if my soul were being stolen, and I am striving hard to not let it go. I can see the window in my room, it is, in all waking reality, here just a foot of distance from my hand. I want only to wake up. My eyes are open, but sleep has yet to be overcome. I can see images, such as a person of some form, whether human or otherwise I do not know, standing on my bed, leaning on the window. I must wake up! More shaking, attempting to move my body, never accomplishing.  My eyes will not stay steady; they are out of my control. Then I awake. My eyes already open. Seeing the very same view as that of seconds ago. The window. The blinds. The blankets over my body. But no person. No figures. I can no longer see the Dead.