Live Long and Prosper, Mr. Spock.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Rutherford Manor 2014
A friend of mine sent me the link to this haunt video, and I have to say - WOW! Very impressive! The attention to detail in this haunt is incredible, and the sheer scope of the walk through portion impressive. Definitely worth keeping an eye on this one!
http://www.rutherfordmanorhaunt.com/
http://www.rutherfordmanorhaunt.com/
Saturday, February 21, 2015
"You Just Know" - A Short Story by Damian Michael
I sat in the
corner of the office with the lights off, cradling a sawed-off 12-gauge in my
lap. I kept one eye on my desk, the other eye on the stairwell. I didn’t move an
inch, and I was barely breathing. I wasn’t blinking much either. I don’t know
how long I sat there. Things had been getting strange around the office building
where I was currently employed. Even since I had carried out The Job for my
client a few weeks ago, I had been finding post-it notes on my desk saying, “I
know you did it”. Someone was on to me, that much was clear. I had wanted to abandoned
my cover as soon as The Job was finished, but my client insisted I stick around
for a while, maintain my cover, so as not to arouse suspicion. Then the notes
started coming in. I’d had no luck so far in uncovering the author of the
notes. There were a few people that seemed likely, but I couldn’t be 100%
certain. However, since it seemed that whoever was leaving the notes was also
rummaging through my cubical (looking for proof that I had been involved in The
Job, no doubt) I thought that catching them in the act would be the only way to
finish this before getting the fuck out of Dodge. Hence my sitting in a
darkened office with a 12-gauge on my lap.
I know you did it.
I know you did it.
I know you did it.
Finally I saw
the door of the stair well creak open, and someone in a dark hoodie and
sweatpants creep into the maze of cubicles. They looked around, and I sank
further back into the pools of shadows. The intruder crept towards my vacant
cubicle, and upon reaching it started going through my desk. I got up and
walked softly down the aisle towards them, not making any sounds. Their
movements were growing frantic, suggesting panic. This was it. In a fell swoop,
and got behind them, cocked the sawed-off, and placed the barrel at the back of
their head.
“Alright,
Billie, enough is enough. Back up slowly.”
Billie stood
up slowly and turned around, the dim light from the windows playing off her
pale skin. Her hazel eyes fixed me with a look of hatred that you only see in
the eyes of people whose loved ones you have murdered.
“I knew it was
you,” she hissed.
“Of course you
did, now step away from my desk. I don’t want to get blood on my Magic 8 Ball.”
She stepped
forward slowly, and I took a step back simultaneously, keeping my sawed-off
inches from her eyes. I must say, they were very pretty. I gestured with the
gun for her to sit down, and she did, sliding into the desk chair near my desk.
“Take your
hood off,” I ordered.
“Why?”
“Because I
want to look at you.”
Billie
reluctantly pulled her hood back. I liked the way her hair looked: a natural
dark red, now tangled and stringy from being in the rain. Her eyes still burned
into mine with a hate that would put the fear of god into the devil himself.
Our gazes locked for a silent minute.
Fire and Ice.
“Why did you
have to kill her?” she asked, her voice strangely level and calm.
“Are you
familiar with the phrase ‘Ignorance is Bliss’? Well, the last few days of your
little girlfriend’s life weren’t too blissful. Especially once I got to her.”
“I don’t get
it, what could Shelly have done?” At this I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t act
like she was special, she was just another cheap lay from that dyke bar you
like to hang at. Besides, Shelly got a hold of something she shouldn’t have,
and my client didn’t like that. She could have gone public. Something had to be
done.” Tears were starting to trickle Billie’s face.
“She wasn’t
just a cheap lay. I loved her.” This information surprised me.
“Really? How can
you tell?” She looked at me surprised, confusion on her tear-stained face.
“Wuh?”
“How do you
know if you’re in love with someone?” Billie fixed me with that intense stare
of hers.
“You just know.”
This was a bit
confusing to me. I’ve never understood this sort of thing. Not just with women,
but all humans. I can’t believe they think I’m like them. I stroked my chin
thoughtfully before responding,
“Are you sure?” The look of rage and hate returned
to Billie’s eyes.
“Damn sure.”
“Oh. Well then,
I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?
SORRY?! You tore Shelly to pieces! They had to ID her using her teeth!”
“I had to send
a message. I swear on my mother’s grave that it wasn’t personal.” Billie bared
her teeth in anger as the tears ran fast and hard down her face. Despite her
smeared makeup, tears, and the rage in her eyes, she was quite beautiful. I
think I understood what Shelly had seen in her.
“Just fucking
kill me already.”
“Very well.
Move over to the other side of the cubicle, there’s still a chance of blood
getting on my Magic 8 Ball from this angle.” She looked me not with anger at
this remark, but with sadness.
“You care more
about a desk toy than a person’s life.”
“Yes I do.”
Billie slid the
desk chair across the floor so she was now facing completely away from my desk.
She looked up at me, without fear or that pleading for mercy I usually hear.
And in that moment, I felt something. Something new. But before I could voice
it, instinct kicked in and I had pulled the trigger of my sawed-off, hollowing
out Billie’s head like an overripe melon. The roar of the blast echoed through
the building, and my ears rang for a bit. I looked at where Billie’s face had
been, now seeing only a gory crater in her skull, with blood staining the rest
of her like a crimson waterfall.
It matched her
hair.
A little while
later I was riding in the back seat of a car with tinted windows, cradling my
Magic 8 Ball in my hands. There was a tiny speck of Billie’s blood on the white
circle surrounding the eight. A man in a suit, who represented my client, was
handing me a briefcase full of cash and explaining how the ID I had been using
for the past three months was now void, how I’d be living in Amsterdam for a
while, and how happy my client would be to hear this was all over with. But all
I could think about was what Billie said to me. And as we drove towards my client’s
private jet at the airport, I gazed deep into the Magic 8 Ball and smiled while
a tear rolled my cheek.
“Something
wrong?” the man in the suit asked, clearly puzzled. It was a full minute before
I responded:
“I think I’m
in love.”
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Friday, February 13, 2015
Thursday, February 12, 2015
"Bravo, Bravo, Bravo"
How I'll spending Valentine's Day this year: watching a certain Eastern European "art film" that caused a bit of a stir a few years ago:
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
"While there is life, there is hope."
A very happy birthday Jules Verne, author of "Journey to the Center of the Earth", "Around the World in Eighty Days", "From Earth to the Moon", and "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea".
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
The Sadness of the Moon
The Moon more indolently dreams to-night
Than a fair woman on her couch at rest,
Caressing, with a hand distraught and light,
Before she sleeps, the contour of her breast.
Upon her silken avalanche of down,
Dying she breathes a long and swooning sigh;
And watches the white visions past her flown,
Which rise like blossoms to the azure sky.
And when, at times, wrapped in her languor deep,
Earthward she lets a furtive tear-drop flow,
Some pious poet, enemy of sleep,
Takes in his hollow hand the tear of snow
Whence gleams of iris and of opal start,
And hides it from the Sun, deep in his heart.
- Charles Baudelaire