Fan Fiction/Original Writing/Poetry Feedback Thread

It’s simple. People post their literature, and you feedback.

You finished yours yet?

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

^

This is my song.

Its screamo.

Destruction of the Last Remnant, a Soul Eater Fan Fiction

=D

Your a good writer, but you need a better story and more interesting and vivid characters. There to dull.

I need to get around to watching Soul Eater... >_>;

King Boo wrote: Your a good writer, but you need a better story and more interesting and vivid characters. There to dull.

Jeezus I haven’t even begun to foreshadow or anything yet XD

Btw, they are meant to be flawed. Otherwise they wind up as Mary Sue’s.

Nice idea Haylias.Ill sticky this topic.

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote: Nice idea Haylias.Ill sticky this topic.

Same idea already stickied.

King Boo wrote:

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote: Nice idea Haylias.Ill sticky this topic.

Same idea already stickied.

Well this thread is feedback.The one I made was just for posting the types of Literature you are working on.This is to review those pieces.

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote:

King Boo wrote:

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote: Nice idea Haylias.Ill sticky this topic.

Same idea already stickied.

Well this thread is feedback.The one I made was just for posting the types of Literature you are working on.This is to review those pieces.

So this one is better?

King Boo wrote:

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote:

King Boo wrote:

Ulquiorra Schiffer wrote: Nice idea Haylias.Ill sticky this topic.

Same idea already stickied.

Well this thread is feedback.The one I made was just for posting the types of Literature you are working on.This is to review those pieces.

So this one is better?

Damn right.

=O

ummm..

....And Life goes on Living: An Autobiographical Fiction.

On August 15th 1995 I watched a child die. On the eve of his brother’s birthday, a time of celebration and gifting, the long lingering shadow that had been blanketing his life, clouding his vision and threatening to consume him whole finally won. No longer could I reason with him, he wouldn’t hear it, his ears were gone, eroded by the waves of denial and negativity that constantly crashed against him.

I watched from the shadows as he stood above his father the previous night, kitchen knife poised above the sleeping giants’ chest. You can do it I encouraged. Just straight down then up, like poking holes into the lid of a jar. I wanted what he wanted. To live. To survive. To grow old.

Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, he chanted, like a mantra empowering him to fulfil his destiny and free his captive family from that which lay breathing heavily, peacefully beneath the cold trembling blade. What seemed like minutes passed as I watched as the boys resolve began to falter; the chant dropping to a whisper and it was then, when he looked at me with those sorrowful eyes, I knew he was done. He couldn’t do it. Like a dog that had been beaten one too many times by his master, his spirit was broken, his willpower to strike back flailed away by impact and abuse. I watched as he slinked away into the darkness, leaving me there in the giant’s lair holding the knife that afforded him no more power than a wet fish.

The next morning, I tried to talk to the boy. I found him sitting in his room, organising his belongings into groups. His clothes lay folded neatly on the bed. Are you going somewhere I asked? The boy replied with a nod, his eyes no longer sad or angry as I had often viewed them to be. Freedom danced across his pupils and he afforded a little smile before continuing in his efforts to organise his life possessions. I watched as he spent the rest of the day outside, amusing himself with the company of his pets in what his parents would call antisocial behaviour before nightfall finally came knocking, bidding the day farewell.

I watched in silence as the boy ate his dinner in the company of what passed for his family, all except him in eager discussion of what was going to happen tomorrow for the stranger he called brother’s big day. Night after night I had previously struggled to sit silently through dinner conversation, wanting to step in, to speak the truth and not be denied, to give the boy a voice that would be listened to and not dismissed. But the boy, he beckoned me not to bother, night after night, he would look at me and shake his head. He had learned that it was better to be silent and submissive than to incite the wrath and ridicule of the adults. This night was no different. He finished his meal, excused himself from the table and we retreated to his room and closed the door.

It was here I sat, quietly, looking at the boy, looking at me. He showed me a length of rope, the professional kind. Blue and yellow striped and the thickness of an electrical extension cord. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I think I was more nervous at seeing the happiness then genuinely pleased. This was a boy that did not smile. He did not laugh. He carried around a black blanket of sorrow that he wore like a coat and it protected him from everything. I watched as he showed me how he had learned how to do a sliding knot. The kind people use for tying down objects on trailers and the roofs of cars. I was proud of him. His co-ordination afforded him little in the way of skill for such things.

As he placed the rope around his neck, I was mesmerised by how happy he looked. He told me, he was happy because he has found a way out. He doesn’t need his blanket any longer. The rope is his salvation, its fibres, his strength. He tells me to lie down on the bed, that he’s tired and that its time to sleep. I watch stunned, helpless to stop him as he is finally happy .He yanks on the rope, once, twice, three times. The knot gripping tighter each time, creasing and crumpling his skin. He turns out the light and we lay in the darkness till I drift off to sleep.

When I awoke, the boy was gone. I found myself on a strange bed, surrounded by strange people. I saw family there too. They had found me, they said. My father told the doctors I must have been playing around with some rope and got it caught around my neck. They called me an idiot but they weren’t worried. They told me to get some rest and nothing else was said. Nobody cared that on August 15th 1995 a little boy died. Nobody cared that when he went, he took all that was youthful and sensitive. He left me, alone and unfeeling in his place.

On that day, I died; and part of me will never come back.


THE RECRUIT. Copyright 2007
BY..Firewolf81/Scott Drechsler
Created and Written 28/01/2007

Recomended for mature audiences- contains adult themes and material



CHAPTER 1


The coffee tasted sour this morning, the same way it tasted yesterday and the day before. In fact, food in general had lost its appeal. Apples were no longer sweet and crisp, wine no longer provided the heady high at the end of a long, hard day. Life had lost its flavor. It’s strange isn’t it? How life can be perfect one moment and anarchy the next. The delicate balance shattered, the scales tipped from order to chaos in a blink of an eye. My life’s path, ripped from its confines so swiftly, altered so suddenly, without warning. Like an ear of corn, ripped from its husk, I was reborn. I remember it, like it only occurred moments ago.

The day began like any other. Sunlight streamed through the window of my pokey apartment, lighting the room where I slept. The suns rays crept like rats, sneaking their way through the clutter of empty takeout containers and Styrofoam coffee cups that littered the floor. Steadily, it clambered onwards and upwards, marching like a relentless army, hell-bent on conquering every square inch of this domain. Beams of light lay waste to the gloom, piercing my eyelids, ripping me from my slumber.

“Damnit! I really have to get some curtains or something” I grumbled in defiance to the suns persistent illumination. It was the same every morning. Rudely awoken by the inconsiderate sun. It was a ritual I could do without. My thoughts lingered on whether I could ignore the invasive sunlight and get a few more minutes rest, but part of me knew that this effort would inevitably prove futile. Begrudgingly, I was awake, for better or worse. Little did I know at that time, it would be the later.

As I clambered off the couch, which by night doubled as my bed, remnants of last nights pepperoni pizza tumbled to the floor. Still half asleep, I made my way over to the kitchen, which in fact was merely a bar fridge with a broken door, a small group of cupboards, a stove and stool which served as a table.
Not so much a kitchen, but rather a group of objects, which sadly purport themselves as a meal preparation area, they in part, served that purpose well enough. I was on a mission, I needed caffeine and I needed it now. Wrenching open the cupboard door, I was greeted with nothing.
“Shit, no coffee”.

That’s when heard the knock at the door.

Actually it was more of a pounding, but who wants to be technical at this time in the morning

“WHAT” I shouted out. There was no verbal response. Just more pounding.

“HOLD ON, IM COMING”

I figured that if I didn’t answer the door soon, this joker would probably pound the bloody thing off its hinges, so I ambled over to the entrance of my humble abode. As soon as I got within a few inches, the noise stopped. Finally, I thought, maybe they’ve have had their fun and decided to bugger off and leave me in peace. BOY WAS I WRONG!

As I opened the door, I was greeted by to figure. One, a Tall Dark skinned man, towered above the doorway. The other, a female, blonde and tanned. I’m sure she would fit in just fine with the other models that occupied this part of town. Both immaculately dressed in some kind of purple designer suit.
“Um yeah” I mused, perplexed as to why they stood before me.

“Douglas Brady” the woman asked
“Yeah” I replied inquisitively.
“The Dean of Rockwall University has requested your presence immediately”
“Who”
“If you would just come with us sir” boomed the tall man.
“Just give me 5 minutes to get changed”
“We’ll be waiting” the big voice spoke again.

Now I knew of Rockwall University. Everyone did. It was big ominous place surrounded by walls and trees and it was not a good place to be. Nobody enrolls for Rockwall, instead you get summoned.

Nobody knows how they choose their pupils and I don’t know why they would want me. At 5 ft 8 and slightly overweight, I won’t be winning any fitness competitions and with my plain features and unruly black hair covering my face half the time, beauty contests are out of the question. Surely they can’t want me because of my academic history. I was an average student who spent more time chilling out then hitting the books.

As I pulled on my clothes, I tried not to think about the rumors surrounding that place. It is said that nobody ever refuses. Sure there are the whispers of defiance and refusal, but those people never seem to stick around long enough to tell. It’s almost as if they are whisked away under the cloak of darkness, banished forever for their non compliance, their missing posters, slapped on the walls by grieving loved ones. Slipping on my shoes, I could delay no longer, do I go with them or do I try to slip away?

Curiosity got the better of me. One way or the other, I was destined to go.
Opening the door, I left my apartment and headed with the messengers. Off to the unknown. Off to Rockwall University.




CHAPTER 2


As I made my way down he corridor escorted by my two strange visitors, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. No one has ever had anything good to say about Rockwall University, and now I was destined to find out if all the rumors were true. My mind said run and my guts agreed. It was only by sheer curiosity and puzzlement that my feet soldiered on. Passing my neighbors doorway, I was sure the Bertha Landridge had her ear pressed to the door, waiting for some form of juicy gossip to filter through the old oak paneling, waiting to devour it like a naughty school girl would a sweet. How I wished that nosey old bertha would poke her head out and see the plight that I had somehow fallen victim. ‘Plod, Plod, Plod’ Shuffling past the door, I glanced over at the entrance, hopeful, wishful to catch her glance.
Today, it seemed, luck was in short supply.
“Typical” I muttered under my breath.
“What is?” asked the female escort, placing a firm grip on my shoulder. Her eyes gray and cold. The fluorescent lights flickered and dimmed overhead, casting shadows that danced and jigged up and down the hallway. Her face was cast into an eerie mask by the shifting lights. I must have been staring, because she repeated the question again. This time with a sharp edge to her voice.
”WHAT IS.....”
I quickly turned away and tried to shrug off her hold. She held on and tightened her grasp to the point where I was in the verge of crying out in pain.
How the hell did she hear what I said, I thought to myself. I but spoke a whisper. Surely she could have not heard me. Within the next few steps, I had managed to convince myself that the university curriculum must include lip reading. A subject in which my strong female ’friend’ was either a major or a teacher.
“Move down here” spoke the tall dark male.
I looked up and realized that I had reached the end of the hallway. It now seemed that while my mind debated the possibility of lip reading, I had already walked down past several more doors and reached the stairwell that flanked each end of the hallway of the apartment complex. Taking one last glance at the hallway, trying to catch sight of someone, anyone who cold help me. All the doorways remained closed and no savior appeared. I was on my own.
“NOW! “the man said. His irritation with my hesitation showing up in his voice.” THE DEAN DOES NOT LIKE TO BE KEPT WAITING”
The lights flickered again as the woman let go of my shoulder and I took my first steps down the stairs.



CHAPTER 3


The stairwell was dark and murky. The air stagnant and stale. Peering down between the rails, I could see a small pool of light emanating from below, like a candle lighting the way in a storm. Despite numerous complaints about safety made by the tenants of the building, the Landlord had yet to fix the lighting or the air conditioner, creating a creepy cave like atmosphere in the vertical stair laden shaft. As I descended down into the bowels of the muddy lit stairs, sinking like a spoon into a bowl of pea soup, I expected to hear the clopping and slapping of two other pairs of shoes trailing behind me.

Pausing one flight down of my 3 flight journey, I tried to slow my nervous breathing and pounding heart as I strained to hear any signs of movement.
Nothing.
Only the clicking and tinging of the faulty fluro globes broke the silence. Glancing upwards, I checked on the whereabouts of my deliverers. Although I expected them to be standing there, the top of the landing was empty.
This is my big break I thought as I quickly debated my chances of escape. I had two Flights of stairs left to descend. I could make it down before they caught up, if they were still up there. But then what. What if the University had more personal, waiting outside? Perhaps that is why they didn’t feel the need to follow me down into the inky stairwell. Maybe, they weren’t from the university at all but were cunning theives, who used the legend of the university as a front to lure people away from their homes, so they could ransack through their valuables. Yes, that was it. I’m sure of it. Why would the University want me? I have nothing to offer. They must be thieves and at this very moment, they would be rummaging through my stuff.
NO. I won’t let them take what I have, it isn’t much, but its mine and I worked damn hard to get it. No way in hell was I letting some con artists get free choice over my belongings. Not in this lifetime.

Angry and determined, I bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time in each stride. In seconds I would reach the hallway and confront these con artists with such a furious anger that the big mans size would be cut down by a torrent of insults and hurled abuse and he steely ladies resolve would fall under the might of my words. Ascending into the light like some angry warrior embracing the heavens, I was ready for war.



CHAPTER 4.

Slamming a sneakered foot onto the stair landing, I stood triumphant, confident in my ability to tackle my deceitful visitors and deter them away from pillaging my belongings. Surveying my surroundings and peering down the hallway, there was no sign of my unwelcome morning visitors. Perhaps they were already in my apartment, rummaging through my underwear draw like a pair of dirty perv’s. Maybe they had already discovered that my apartment was pretty devoid of valuables and had already fled with whatever they deemed worthy, like a restaurant rat, fleeing the kitchen of some high class joint brandishing some forbidden treat. Either way, I was determined to find out just what was missing before I reported the ruse to the local cops. Taking several deep breaths, I set off down the corridor, marching to my own tune, full of courage and grit.
“First, the friggen sun wakes me up, good for nothing son of a bitch ball of flame” I cursed, reflecting on the shitty morning that I have had thus far. “then, to my shock and amazement, I’ve run out of fuckin coffee. HOW THE FUCK DID I RUN OUT OF FUCKIN COFFEE....GODDAMNIT” The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I became. I mean this was supposed to be my day off. My day to relax and kickback. As I walked on, clenching my fists in frustration, my thoughts turned to the unwelcome interruption of my two fancy dress guests. ”THIS IS THEIR FAULT” I exclaimed so loud that I was sure every person in the apartment complex was going to venture out into the open, just to watch the crazy, ranting man have his bitch fit.

Breathe. Just breathe Douglas. I chanted like a charka in my minds eye. Compose yourself before you explode into a flaming, rage induced coma. Relax, you need to be able to react if they are still in your home. You can’t do that if you are blind with rage. I ran my now clawed hands, sore with muscle cramps through my mattered black hair and exhaled loudly. Looking down the corridor, I counted 6 more doors before I reached my destination. 6 doors of composure. Six doors of peace and tranquility. Six doors which housed people who could sleep in without interruptions, six doors that seemed to keep the chaos of today’s morning events in check. Six doors.

Walking down the corridor with less anger than before I counted the doors down as I passed each one. Six....

Why did this morning have to be like this?

Five.....

All I wanted to do today is go out and hang with my mates.

Four.......

Why did I get targeted?

Three.....

I hope they didn’t trash the place.

Two........

“What the hell is that noise?”

One...............

“Shit, it’s coming from inside my apartment”

Stepping to the side of the doorway, I reached out to grasp the door knob.
“SMASH!“ Timber exploded outwards, sending shattered wood, dust and fittings crashing into the opposite wall. Shaken and coughing uncontrollably from the mouthful of inhaled wood particles, I shook the debris from my clothes. “WHAT THE FUCK!” I managed to squeeze out in between ragged breaths. I could hear loud voices coming from inside. Deep, guttural noises, words uttered in growls from clenched teeth.

Stepping over the debris that now decorated the hallway; I was drawn to shattered doorway, like a moth to a flame. I couldn’t help myself. It was as if I was being led by some unseen force, neither pushed nor pulled but undeniably destined to enter the room regardless of my own will. Perhaps I had been stunned by some flying wood that collided with my head. I didn’t recall feeling any hard impact, yet I felt so, so surreal, like I was floating in some dream. That must be it, I figured. I was dreaming. I had some bad pizza and now I was stuck in some half conscious dream state like a bad acid trip. They say that eating pizza before bed gives you nightmares. Suddenly, I realized I was no longer moving. Something had caught my leg and I was stuck mid stride just outside the doorway. “YOU’RE NOT DREAMING” came a voice from below. That voice, I know that voice. It belonged to the big man, who knocked on my now non existent door. My eyes crawled down to the source of the voice, to my leg, to the bloodied hand that held me captive. Stationary and steadfast, my eyes trailed the floor crawling up the attached arm and settled on the face of the male visitor. “Oh GOD” I cried as my vision came to terms with what lie before me. The man was Bloodied and mangled. Shards of wood embedded his face distorting his features into a picasso’esqe mess of blood and torn flesh. His rolled out like a red carpet through a deep rip in his jaw. “THIS IS REAL“; he slurred as blood spilled through his teeth and ran like a river onto the tan carpet beneath.
“Hold on, I’ll get help” I shrilled, my voice squeaky with panic and fear. Tugging my leg, I tried to free myself from his grip. As I did so, he pulled himself up my leg, his hands like steel vices clawing at my flesh. Trying to pry his fingers from my calves, I saw something so horrid, so disturbing that I almost fainted.

Trailing from his torso, protruding from the remains of his purple suit, was a wet mess, pink, blue and glistening. Blood, spurted from the cavity where his legs and abdomen would normally be. ...”I.....I.....I........Shit man, you need help....Th...Tha...tha...that’s gonna be ok, just let me get someone:” is all I could manage to stammer out amidst the swarming nausea that enveloped me. The remains of the man seemed to ignore my sickened state as he continued to claw his way up my body, his internal organs sloshing onto my feet and painting a bloody collage up my clothes. Face to face, he spoke again” BEVWARE THA DARKNISS” he wheezed, sending blood spraying onto my face with each word.

This was all too much. Mentally overwhelmed, I shook my body violently, trying to dislodge this monstrosity. Twisting side to side, arms flailing like some entranced voodoo dancer. Staggering backwards, I slipped on some of the viscera that now added to the new floor decorations of timber and dust. Tumbling backward through my doorway, I landed on my apartment floor. The impact dislodged the half corpse that previously attached itself to me like a tick to a dog. Bounding up onto my feet, more so out of determination to move away from the fetid remains of today visitor rather than to be prepared to face whatever was making the noises in my apartment, I looked around to catch a glimpse of two people struggling in the corner.

One was holding the other aloft by the throat. Turning to face me, I froze, unsure what to do. It was the other purple clad visitor, whom was being choked, her hands gripping the wrists of the other aggressor in a vain attempt to loosen the grip around her throat.

“I ...told... you ....to..... GO!” she croaked in gasping breaths, glaring at the doorway, where I now stood. The other man, if you could call him that, threw the woman to the ground, with such force, that the floor reverberated from the impact. She slid through the empty takeout containers and came to rest motionless against the wall. The assailant was tall and pale; his eyes seemed to be inky black pools, hair dark as night. He was clad in faded blue jeans and bare chest was shrouded in a black leather coat. he started to speak to me, lips curled into a cruel smile, teeth gleaming un-naturally “I don’t know.....I think you’re right on time” he spoke as he started towards me, his voice had a coldness that sent a shiver up my spine and I was still frozen on the spot.


CHAPTER 5

Fear griped me like a vice and squeezed. I prayed that he purple clad lady would wake up; distract this, this, this thing that made its way toward me. Desperate, I started to pray..’Please god, help me out here. I will do anything you ask, just don’t let me die, please...”HA” the approaching figure scoffed”you think GOD is going to save you. Look at how GOD helped them” he pointed one hooked finger at the disembodied figure laying to the left of me and then to the woman slumped against he wall”They were HIS CHILDREN, HIS WARRIORS and look how he rewarded them...with DEATH” By now the pale figure had swaggered within mere inches of me, his putrid breath, sucking the air from my lungs. Now I could see what I was dealing with...and it wasn’t human. Not anymore. “Do you know what they wanted Douglas” he hissed...I was speechless, not because I didn’t have a response, but because opening my mouth meant inhaling more of that putrid odor emanating from my captors mouth. Regardless, he leant over close, and whispered in my ear....”the wanted to kill you,... .......................and so do I”

My heart immediately dropped down into the pit of my stomach, I felt empty inside as if I had not eaten for days.
”oh God” was all I could manage.
“Not quite” he sighed as he clamped his fetid mouth over mine. Although I still couldn’t move my feet, I managed to get a hand up and brought it down on his shoulder. Still he didn’t budge, his mouth sealed with mine. Warm air, filled with decay flowed into my mouth and fought its way into my lungs. Again and again, I brought my fist down, each subsequent blow becoming weaker then the last. I was choking, suffocating on his putrid gas. This was what its like to die I thought as my vision became clouded and pale. I tried to bring my arm up again for one last futile blow, my last coup de gra’, but was no good. It was over. I was over. This was my last moment alive. As darkness settled in around me, a numbness permiated every pore, I let go and let the inky blackness swallow me whole. I was gone.

Letting my limp body fall to the floor, my murderer gazed down at my lifeless corpse intently, as if studying it, committing it to memory. Satisfied in his duty, he turned his attention to the woman, who now stirred groggily from her resting place. “so sorry my dear” he cooed, obviously happy in his success”you failed again”. Grasping her by the head, he effortlessly lifted the woman to her feet. Still groggy from the impact, her eyes lolled around lazily before settling on my still, cold body.
“You bastard” she cursed as she spat blood. “He was supposed to be ours”
Clearly amused by her defiance, even in the face of defeat he tutted”tsk, tsk, tsk. I guess this is one little lost lamb that isn’t going to join YOUR flock after all”
“GO TO HELL!” she sneered as she pulled a knife from behind her back, prepared to fight to her last breath.
With one quick motion, the pale man shifted his weight and slammed her head into the wall, sending flurries of plaster and blood spraying forth from the impact site. His hands dissolving into her head like a child’s hand in a birthday cake. The knife dropped from her hand as her body fell limp.


Releasing his hand with a squelch of mattered hair and brain tissue, she fell to the ground like a rag doll. Nudging her body with the toe of his black boot, he kneeled down beside her.
Noting her chest still rising and falling in shallow breaths, he whispered softly. “I know you can still hear me darling. You bloody Angels are a resilient bunch, ill give you that. But know this, somebody is going to wake up hungry soon and guess who is the main course” depositing a small peck on her bloodied cheek, he stood up and left.

He was right. Someone did wake up hungry, and indeed they fed.



CHAPTER 6

Douglas Brady was in all accounts dead, I did not deceive you, the person I am now was not who I was then. This was changed that fateful day. You see, there is a war being fought, a feud waged between the light and the shadows, goodness and evil, and ultimately, god and the devil. That day I was destined to die. This much was known to all but me. My purple clad visitors, as I now know, were angels, herald to the light. They were to deliver me to the dean, who would recruit me to their side, forever becoming a soldier fighting on the frontline wherever it may be. However this was not to be, for the warriors of night claimed my life for their own, raping my soul and plunging my existence into perpetual night.

Part of me still clung to the old ways, desperately trying grasp onto the normality of the life that was mine to live, mere days ago. Staring at the mug of coffee I held in my hands, I wished that it would taste the same, not this sour, manky liquid that it had now become. Frustrated, I slammed the cup down on the stove, sending the vessel and its foul contents spraying upwards and outwards like a exploding firework lit on the forth of July.
“SHIT, FUCK, DAMNIT” I screamed, stamping my foot through the timber floor.” ARGGGGGHHHHHH!”

This was getting to be big problem. Every day I got stronger, every day I grew more and more hungry. Glancing at the mutilated, mangled corpse of the female angel, I knew that as much as it disgusted me, I must eat. As I approached the bloodied remains, I knew that today’s meal would not be enough to sustain me for another day. I must venture out and and seek something more substantial, something...fresh.

Picking through the remains, I wondered where I would end up. Everything was different now. My eyes had already started to darken and my skin pale. Soon people would notice the difference and this place would no longer prove to be a safe haven anymore.
I needed to clear my head. I needed to walk.



Wiping my bloodied mouth on the sleeve of my shirt, I made my way over to the door, grabbing my coat as I passed the sofa. Changing my mind I sighed. “Awww, to hell with it” and ran towards the window. “Let’s see what this new body can do” leaping forward, I dove through the glass alcove and into the street 3 stories below. Landing with a thud, glass tinkered all around me like sparkling rain. “Groovy”

Dusting myself off and slapping on my shades, I ventured off into the unknown, passing people in the street going about their everyday business, hurrying to and thro like busy ants. Not one of them realized what awaited them at the end, oblivious to the war that continued on around them and their eventual fate depending on the victor. Stopping to gaze at an advertising wall, I scanned the leaflets of missing people, posted by their loved ones, begging for their safe return. I then came to the startling realization that, if I ever saw my picture posted up there, decorating the wall, pleading like all the others for my safe return or just a phone call, I couldn’t. That person was gone. Musing over how many others shared my fate, how many other recruits walked the streets and what my purpose was in this battle, I turned away.

Smiling to myself, I headed off. I didn’t know what lie on the path ahead or where I was going to go, but one thing was certain. Life was a whole lot more interesting when you’re dead.



THE END….OR IS IT????????

The two of me.
By Scott Drechsler
8/4/07
Copyright and intellectual property of Scott Drechsler

Out of place and out of time
That is how I’ll start this rhyme.
This thread tis bout darkness
and darkness you find
enveloped within
this lyrical chime

My life’s an enigma
My past is a riddle
Then there little ol me
who’s caught in the middle
Theres two sides to me
just like a nickel
I betch you cant guess
which plays second fiddle

As I mentioned before
This time’s not my own
My true spirit of self
Is a long way from home

I long for the battles
The bloodsheded grin
the screams of anguish and sorrow
Of agony and sin
Inside’s trapped a warrior
A long feral thing
But no ones deemed worthy
to be his favorite plaything.

Long gone are the times
Of honor and grace
The pathways un-broken
By technology and faith
Where every step taken
No matter the pace
Could see you life ended
You final resting place

For every yin there is a yang
To darkness there is light
For every pain there is a pang
of devilish delight.
For evil lurks within us all
Tis the nature of the beast
I long to fight both tooth and claw
The monster yerns to feast.

Cursed I am this retched life
Of society and things
Locked away this darkness rife
A mournful cry it sings

For times have changed but i have not
Venturing deep I did go
To find out why
I did not stop
crimson blood
it shed and flowed

Deeper and deeper
I ventured forth
peeling back layers
to seek out the source
The damage was done
The monster sprang forth
Awoke was the sleeper
who tore at his keeper

A battle raged on
Between goodness and bad
Of which there were casualties
of Wolven and Man
The code of the Warrior
The nature of Beasts
No alliance was struck
Segregated I am.

This uneasy union
that was struck long ago
has been much one sided
the cracks starting to show
My other is calling
Beckoning come in
come join the darkness
come join us in sin

Together we’ll be happy
I promise, I care
The bloodlust I’ll work on
the pleasure we’ll share.
The flesh we can render
The screams in the air
They all will deserve it
The truth that I swear.

For years now this has gone on
well 12 to be exact
12 years of remaining guarded
Of watching and act
And yet he still whispers
come on make us whole.
His tight furry fingers
they pull at my soul

My life is a nightmare
this much is told
My true self is locked up
I can not ever be whole
Of times I do wonder
More times come of late
if union is possible
or is that tempting fate

So now there you have it
A glimpse you did see
A moment of insight
In what its like to be me.

Ode to LDG

Look at me, look at me
I’m Livig Dead Girl
Don’t you see

I’ll make 10 topics in a single bound
so, long as people gather round

Something always happens to be
in-ter-resting that revolves around me

I take hard drugs and act nazi
I slit my wrists, just to watch them bleed

I blame it all on the alcohol
and the drugs that make you crawl

I do need help, but ac-cept none
why perhaps, just for fun?

I do this stuff and wonder why
and af-ter-wards I do but cry

Why do people dis-like me
Ima cool girl, dont you see.

This is for our Un-dead girl
who’s constant topics make toes curl

But deep inside I think shes cool,
A litle bit crazy and sometimes a fool

If only she’d think before she act
we all could seperate the fiction from the fact

Infact, I wish her all the best
on her life which is, but one big test

I pray she comes out half unscathed
And lives to fight another days.

MVC BY NIGHT
all was quiet in MVC house
nobody stirred
no even a mouse
I pace back and forth
looking a yonder
who is up also
that indeed do I wonder
I called to P.Moore
from new Zealand is he
I shouted out loudly
No reply I received
An echo sounds out
the noise does rebound
Of these empty halls
my voice is that sound
I sit and I wait
for the ol pitter patter
of familiar feet
and MVC chatter
fore for you it is night
and for me it is day
I guess we will chat
some other day.

The Turmoil within. Copyright 2007
BY..Firewolf81/Scott Drechsler
Created and Written 19/02/2007


There’s a pain in the darkness.
That I cant withstand.
It haunts me.
It taunts me.
Slowly driving me mad.

It tears at my soul.
It rips me apart.
This pain in the darkness.
Is destroying my heart.

My mind knows one thing.
My body Another.
How long must I stay here.
Before I become someone other.

This battle has raged on.
for years now within.
The war scars, they mold me.
They taint me with sin.

I can not lose.
This battle you see.
For destroy things I will
and evil i’ll be.

So beware the darkness.
Always keep it in check.
Your life will be shattered.
Forever

Live

And

Regret.







more from my stream of thought.

We are but dust, waiting to be blown away by the gentle breeze of the ages as memories fade like a photograph left in the sun, bleaching our thoughts like the remnants of bone and desolate beings. Gone are the times of joy and laughter, snatched away mid breath by a thief who has no face and no name but is everywhere and nowhere. Born of both misery and happiness yet not one is better than the other as both are but a feeling to show life and should be rejoiced in equal parts of rapture and loathing. Each heartbeat brings us closer to life and death, like a glorious swan song spelling out our sweet sweet sorrows for the world to hear. Such beauty is lost upon the likes of man who was born with ears but lacks the ability to truly listen, he hears only the voice of his mind that speaks of his goodness and truth. Spread forth the gospel of pain and suffering that both life and death for the two dance endlessly and tirelessly, spinning on the edge of reason yet so close indeed. Fear not the end but embrace the start and shy away from the evils of life itself lest you be tainted and drink from its waters. For without life there is no death and death no life so celebrate them both for they are legion and they are hungry. Glorious is the puppet cut of its strings for it has no master and no life, yet no sorrow.

Cut your strings and be free.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —


Hark o the call the suffering children for they have no voice, a cry out in anguish suddenly silenced by the evils of man. Fear not the end sweet child for in the end there is much to rejoice, a end to sadness across the plagues our land.

The evils of war spread on swift wings, turning brother on brother and families distraught. Is there no end to the seeping madness sweet and seductive like a lover, she melds in our thought.

Innocent lives stolen, torn from existence by bloodied hands and dirty fingernails, rendering heartache without mercy. Children converted and mutated into mindless killers with a taste for blood that is unquenchable renders them thirsty.

The time of man, ruled by a iron fist of officials and diplomats, comfortably placed in the safety of their brethren. Millions extinguished at a moments notice, expendable soldiers march to their demise, fresh charred flesh that won’t see heaven.

Lives lost needlessly, the children cry, parents grieve, all which falls like tears from angels, absorbed into the blood soaked earth no splash for nothin. Why do we die, destroy our lives, for fear of living. How long until god himself pushes that button?


— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -


Death stalks the living like a hidden killer waiting in the shadows, blade at the ready, glimmering like a crescent moon on a starry night. Feel his breath on your neck, the icy chill of the wind and his eyes, the unknown presence that arouses the hairs to stand to attention like so many soldiers waiting to enter the fray. Tick Tock Tick Tock, can you hear the clock ticking, seconds falling away into the void, falling forever, endlessly and motionless, carcases of life lost to the sand. The weight of living bears down on us like so much gravity, crushing us more and more, misshaping us, offering hunched back and crooked joints as time wears us away, eroding us like the waves wear away the cliff, crashing eternally. Can you taste him, the hidden presence of decay hidden in every meal, for you consume his work and devour his art to sustain life. His smell, carried on the wind that caresses your face like the gentle hand of a lover long lost, marking you, kissing you for you will be his. In the end, he will take you, his loving embrace cutting swathe through all that you have surrounded yourself with as he carries you away on blackened wings, free and loving. Embrace him for he loves and is merciful, he watches over you even now as you read this, whispering sweet nothings into your ear like a spectral Romeo wooing his Juliet. He is the first and last love you will ever know, he is legion, he is death and one day, he will come for his lost children and embrace you, his hug forever sweet and everlasting.



— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -


With no moments notice
Your life turned upside down
Free falling forever
There is no safe ground

Buried inside are
Worry and fear
Even my friends
Are enemies here

Jagged and painful
Like a cancerous growth
The longer I live
The deeper I go

A whole mind now shattered
Now a shadow of myself
All who I was
Is now placed on the shelf

I worry and I panic
Chilled to the bone
Surrounded by loved ones
Yet I feel so alone

A world rife with danger
Every moment your last
Just ask anyone with it
ANXIETIES A BLAST!



— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —


Of closed mind
And closed heart
Of love and destruction
Life can be mean

Of false promise
And broken dreams
Of hatred and regret
Life can be sorrow

Of joy
And mirth
Of friendship and hope
Life can be happiness

Of darkness
and death
Of pain and fear
Life can be draining

Of hopelessness
And defeat
Of surrender and abandon
Life can be pointless

Of strength
And determination
Of confidence and sweat
Life can be worth living

firewolf81 wrote: ummm..

....And Life goes on Living: An Autobiographical Fiction.

On August 15th 1995 I watched a child die. On the eve of his brother’s birthday, a time of celebration and gifting, the long lingering shadow that had been blanketing his life, clouding his vision and threatening to consume him whole finally won. No longer could I reason with him, he wouldn’t hear it, his ears were gone, eroded by the waves of denial and negativity that constantly crashed against him.

I watched from the shadows as he stood above his father the previous night, kitchen knife poised above the sleeping giants’ chest. You can do it I encouraged. Just straight down then up, like poking holes into the lid of a jar. I wanted what he wanted. To live. To survive. To grow old.

Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, he chanted, like a mantra empowering him to fulfil his destiny and free his captive family from that which lay breathing heavily, peacefully beneath the cold trembling blade. What seemed like minutes passed as I watched as the boys resolve began to falter; the chant dropping to a whisper and it was then, when he looked at me with those sorrowful eyes, I knew he was done. He couldn’t do it. Like a dog that had been beaten one too many times by his master, his spirit was broken, his willpower to strike back flailed away by impact and abuse. I watched as he slinked away into the darkness, leaving me there in the giant’s lair holding the knife that afforded him no more power than a wet fish.

The next morning, I tried to talk to the boy. I found him sitting in his room, organising his belongings into groups. His clothes lay folded neatly on the bed. Are you going somewhere I asked? The boy replied with a nod, his eyes no longer sad or angry as I had often viewed them to be. Freedom danced across his pupils and he afforded a little smile before continuing in his efforts to organise his life possessions. I watched as he spent the rest of the day outside, amusing himself with the company of his pets in what his parents would call antisocial behaviour before nightfall finally came knocking, bidding the day farewell.

I watched in silence as the boy ate his dinner in the company of what passed for his family, all except him in eager discussion of what was going to happen tomorrow for the stranger he called brother’s big day. Night after night I had previously struggled to sit silently through dinner conversation, wanting to step in, to speak the truth and not be denied, to give the boy a voice that would be listened to and not dismissed. But the boy, he beckoned me not to bother, night after night, he would look at me and shake his head. He had learned that it was better to be silent and submissive than to incite the wrath and ridicule of the adults. This night was no different. He finished his meal, excused himself from the table and we retreated to his room and closed the door.

It was here I sat, quietly, looking at the boy, looking at me. He showed me a length of rope, the professional kind. Blue and yellow striped and the thickness of an electrical extension cord. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I think I was more nervous at seeing the happiness then genuinely pleased. This was a boy that did not smile. He did not laugh. He carried around a black blanket of sorrow that he wore like a coat and it protected him from everything. I watched as he showed me how he had learned how to do a sliding knot. The kind people use for tying down objects on trailers and the roofs of cars. I was proud of him. His co-ordination afforded him little in the way of skill for such things.

As he placed the rope around his neck, I was mesmerised by how happy he looked. He told me, he was happy because he has found a way out. He doesn’t need his blanket any longer. The rope is his salvation, its fibres, his strength. He tells me to lie down on the bed, that he’s tired and that its time to sleep. I watch stunned, helpless to stop him as he is finally happy .He yanks on the rope, once, twice, three times. The knot gripping tighter each time, creasing and crumpling his skin. He turns out the light and we lay in the darkness till I drift off to sleep.

When I awoke, the boy was gone. I found myself on a strange bed, surrounded by strange people. I saw family there too. They had found me, they said. My father told the doctors I must have been playing around with some rope and got it caught around my neck. They called me an idiot but they weren’t worried. They told me to get some rest and nothing else was said. Nobody cared that on August 15th 1995 a little boy died. Nobody cared that when he went, he took all that was youthful and sensitive. He left me, alone and unfeeling in his place.

On that day, I died; and part of me will never come back.


THE RECRUIT. Copyright 2007
BY..Firewolf81/Scott Drechsler
Created and Written 28/01/2007

Recomended for mature audiences- contains adult themes and material



CHAPTER 1


The coffee tasted sour this morning, the same way it tasted yesterday and the day before. In fact, food in general had lost its appeal. Apples were no longer sweet and crisp, wine no longer provided the heady high at the end of a long, hard day. Life had lost its flavor. It’s strange isn’t it? How life can be perfect one moment and anarchy the next. The delicate balance shattered, the scales tipped from order to chaos in a blink of an eye. My life’s path, ripped from its confines so swiftly, altered so suddenly, without warning. Like an ear of corn, ripped from its husk, I was reborn. I remember it, like it only occurred moments ago.

The day began like any other. Sunlight streamed through the window of my pokey apartment, lighting the room where I slept. The suns rays crept like rats, sneaking their way through the clutter of empty takeout containers and Styrofoam coffee cups that littered the floor. Steadily, it clambered onwards and upwards, marching like a relentless army, hell-bent on conquering every square inch of this domain. Beams of light lay waste to the gloom, piercing my eyelids, ripping me from my slumber.

“Damnit! I really have to get some curtains or something” I grumbled in defiance to the suns persistent illumination. It was the same every morning. Rudely awoken by the inconsiderate sun. It was a ritual I could do without. My thoughts lingered on whether I could ignore the invasive sunlight and get a few more minutes rest, but part of me knew that this effort would inevitably prove futile. Begrudgingly, I was awake, for better or worse. Little did I know at that time, it would be the later.

As I clambered off the couch, which by night doubled as my bed, remnants of last nights pepperoni pizza tumbled to the floor. Still half asleep, I made my way over to the kitchen, which in fact was merely a bar fridge with a broken door, a small group of cupboards, a stove and stool which served as a table.
Not so much a kitchen, but rather a group of objects, which sadly purport themselves as a meal preparation area, they in part, served that purpose well enough. I was on a mission, I needed caffeine and I needed it now. Wrenching open the cupboard door, I was greeted with nothing.
“Shit, no coffee”.

That’s when heard the knock at the door.

Actually it was more of a pounding, but who wants to be technical at this time in the morning

“WHAT” I shouted out. There was no verbal response. Just more pounding.

“HOLD ON, IM COMING”

I figured that if I didn’t answer the door soon, this joker would probably pound the bloody thing off its hinges, so I ambled over to the entrance of my humble abode. As soon as I got within a few inches, the noise stopped. Finally, I thought, maybe they’ve have had their fun and decided to bugger off and leave me in peace. BOY WAS I WRONG!

As I opened the door, I was greeted by to figure. One, a Tall Dark skinned man, towered above the doorway. The other, a female, blonde and tanned. I’m sure she would fit in just fine with the other models that occupied this part of town. Both immaculately dressed in some kind of purple designer suit.
“Um yeah” I mused, perplexed as to why they stood before me.

“Douglas Brady” the woman asked
“Yeah” I replied inquisitively.
“The Dean of Rockwall University has requested your presence immediately”
“Who”
“If you would just come with us sir” boomed the tall man.
“Just give me 5 minutes to get changed”
“We’ll be waiting” the big voice spoke again.

Now I knew of Rockwall University. Everyone did. It was big ominous place surrounded by walls and trees and it was not a good place to be. Nobody enrolls for Rockwall, instead you get summoned.

Nobody knows how they choose their pupils and I don’t know why they would want me. At 5 ft 8 and slightly overweight, I won’t be winning any fitness competitions and with my plain features and unruly black hair covering my face half the time, beauty contests are out of the question. Surely they can’t want me because of my academic history. I was an average student who spent more time chilling out then hitting the books.

As I pulled on my clothes, I tried not to think about the rumors surrounding that place. It is said that nobody ever refuses. Sure there are the whispers of defiance and refusal, but those people never seem to stick around long enough to tell. It’s almost as if they are whisked away under the cloak of darkness, banished forever for their non compliance, their missing posters, slapped on the walls by grieving loved ones. Slipping on my shoes, I could delay no longer, do I go with them or do I try to slip away?

Curiosity got the better of me. One way or the other, I was destined to go.
Opening the door, I left my apartment and headed with the messengers. Off to the unknown. Off to Rockwall University.




CHAPTER 2


As I made my way down he corridor escorted by my two strange visitors, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. No one has ever had anything good to say about Rockwall University, and now I was destined to find out if all the rumors were true. My mind said run and my guts agreed. It was only by sheer curiosity and puzzlement that my feet soldiered on. Passing my neighbors doorway, I was sure the Bertha Landridge had her ear pressed to the door, waiting for some form of juicy gossip to filter through the old oak paneling, waiting to devour it like a naughty school girl would a sweet. How I wished that nosey old bertha would poke her head out and see the plight that I had somehow fallen victim. ‘Plod, Plod, Plod’ Shuffling past the door, I glanced over at the entrance, hopeful, wishful to catch her glance.
Today, it seemed, luck was in short supply.
“Typical” I muttered under my breath.
“What is?” asked the female escort, placing a firm grip on my shoulder. Her eyes gray and cold. The fluorescent lights flickered and dimmed overhead, casting shadows that danced and jigged up and down the hallway. Her face was cast into an eerie mask by the shifting lights. I must have been staring, because she repeated the question again. This time with a sharp edge to her voice.
”WHAT IS.....”
I quickly turned away and tried to shrug off her hold. She held on and tightened her grasp to the point where I was in the verge of crying out in pain.
How the hell did she hear what I said, I thought to myself. I but spoke a whisper. Surely she could have not heard me. Within the next few steps, I had managed to convince myself that the university curriculum must include lip reading. A subject in which my strong female ’friend’ was either a major or a teacher.
“Move down here” spoke the tall dark male.
I looked up and realized that I had reached the end of the hallway. It now seemed that while my mind debated the possibility of lip reading, I had already walked down past several more doors and reached the stairwell that flanked each end of the hallway of the apartment complex. Taking one last glance at the hallway, trying to catch sight of someone, anyone who cold help me. All the doorways remained closed and no savior appeared. I was on my own.
“NOW! “the man said. His irritation with my hesitation showing up in his voice.” THE DEAN DOES NOT LIKE TO BE KEPT WAITING”
The lights flickered again as the woman let go of my shoulder and I took my first steps down the stairs.



CHAPTER 3


The stairwell was dark and murky. The air stagnant and stale. Peering down between the rails, I could see a small pool of light emanating from below, like a candle lighting the way in a storm. Despite numerous complaints about safety made by the tenants of the building, the Landlord had yet to fix the lighting or the air conditioner, creating a creepy cave like atmosphere in the vertical stair laden shaft. As I descended down into the bowels of the muddy lit stairs, sinking like a spoon into a bowl of pea soup, I expected to hear the clopping and slapping of two other pairs of shoes trailing behind me.

Pausing one flight down of my 3 flight journey, I tried to slow my nervous breathing and pounding heart as I strained to hear any signs of movement.
Nothing.
Only the clicking and tinging of the faulty fluro globes broke the silence. Glancing upwards, I checked on the whereabouts of my deliverers. Although I expected them to be standing there, the top of the landing was empty.
This is my big break I thought as I quickly debated my chances of escape. I had two Flights of stairs left to descend. I could make it down before they caught up, if they were still up there. But then what. What if the University had more personal, waiting outside? Perhaps that is why they didn’t feel the need to follow me down into the inky stairwell. Maybe, they weren’t from the university at all but were cunning theives, who used the legend of the university as a front to lure people away from their homes, so they could ransack through their valuables. Yes, that was it. I’m sure of it. Why would the University want me? I have nothing to offer. They must be thieves and at this very moment, they would be rummaging through my stuff.
NO. I won’t let them take what I have, it isn’t much, but its mine and I worked damn hard to get it. No way in hell was I letting some con artists get free choice over my belongings. Not in this lifetime.

Angry and determined, I bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time in each stride. In seconds I would reach the hallway and confront these con artists with such a furious anger that the big mans size would be cut down by a torrent of insults and hurled abuse and he steely ladies resolve would fall under the might of my words. Ascending into the light like some angry warrior embracing the heavens, I was ready for war.



CHAPTER 4.

Slamming a sneakered foot onto the stair landing, I stood triumphant, confident in my ability to tackle my deceitful visitors and deter them away from pillaging my belongings. Surveying my surroundings and peering down the hallway, there was no sign of my unwelcome morning visitors. Perhaps they were already in my apartment, rummaging through my underwear draw like a pair of dirty perv’s. Maybe they had already discovered that my apartment was pretty devoid of valuables and had already fled with whatever they deemed worthy, like a restaurant rat, fleeing the kitchen of some high class joint brandishing some forbidden treat. Either way, I was determined to find out just what was missing before I reported the ruse to the local cops. Taking several deep breaths, I set off down the corridor, marching to my own tune, full of courage and grit.
“First, the friggen sun wakes me up, good for nothing son of a bitch ball of flame” I cursed, reflecting on the shitty morning that I have had thus far. “then, to my shock and amazement, I’ve run out of fuckin coffee. HOW THE FUCK DID I RUN OUT OF FUCKIN COFFEE....GODDAMNIT” The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I became. I mean this was supposed to be my day off. My day to relax and kickback. As I walked on, clenching my fists in frustration, my thoughts turned to the unwelcome interruption of my two fancy dress guests. ”THIS IS THEIR FAULT” I exclaimed so loud that I was sure every person in the apartment complex was going to venture out into the open, just to watch the crazy, ranting man have his bitch fit.

Breathe. Just breathe Douglas. I chanted like a charka in my minds eye. Compose yourself before you explode into a flaming, rage induced coma. Relax, you need to be able to react if they are still in your home. You can’t do that if you are blind with rage. I ran my now clawed hands, sore with muscle cramps through my mattered black hair and exhaled loudly. Looking down the corridor, I counted 6 more doors before I reached my destination. 6 doors of composure. Six doors of peace and tranquility. Six doors which housed people who could sleep in without interruptions, six doors that seemed to keep the chaos of today’s morning events in check. Six doors.

Walking down the corridor with less anger than before I counted the doors down as I passed each one. Six....

Why did this morning have to be like this?

Five.....

All I wanted to do today is go out and hang with my mates.

Four.......

Why did I get targeted?

Three.....

I hope they didn’t trash the place.

Two........

“What the hell is that noise?”

One...............

“Shit, it’s coming from inside my apartment”

Stepping to the side of the doorway, I reached out to grasp the door knob.
“SMASH!“ Timber exploded outwards, sending shattered wood, dust and fittings crashing into the opposite wall. Shaken and coughing uncontrollably from the mouthful of inhaled wood particles, I shook the debris from my clothes. “WHAT THE FUCK!” I managed to squeeze out in between ragged breaths. I could hear loud voices coming from inside. Deep, guttural noises, words uttered in growls from clenched teeth.

Stepping over the debris that now decorated the hallway; I was drawn to shattered doorway, like a moth to a flame. I couldn’t help myself. It was as if I was being led by some unseen force, neither pushed nor pulled but undeniably destined to enter the room regardless of my own will. Perhaps I had been stunned by some flying wood that collided with my head. I didn’t recall feeling any hard impact, yet I felt so, so surreal, like I was floating in some dream. That must be it, I figured. I was dreaming. I had some bad pizza and now I was stuck in some half conscious dream state like a bad acid trip. They say that eating pizza before bed gives you nightmares. Suddenly, I realized I was no longer moving. Something had caught my leg and I was stuck mid stride just outside the doorway. “YOU’RE NOT DREAMING” came a voice from below. That voice, I know that voice. It belonged to the big man, who knocked on my now non existent door. My eyes crawled down to the source of the voice, to my leg, to the bloodied hand that held me captive. Stationary and steadfast, my eyes trailed the floor crawling up the attached arm and settled on the face of the male visitor. “Oh GOD” I cried as my vision came to terms with what lie before me. The man was Bloodied and mangled. Shards of wood embedded his face distorting his features into a picasso’esqe mess of blood and torn flesh. His rolled out like a red carpet through a deep rip in his jaw. “THIS IS REAL“; he slurred as blood spilled through his teeth and ran like a river onto the tan carpet beneath.
“Hold on, I’ll get help” I shrilled, my voice squeaky with panic and fear. Tugging my leg, I tried to free myself from his grip. As I did so, he pulled himself up my leg, his hands like steel vices clawing at my flesh. Trying to pry his fingers from my calves, I saw something so horrid, so disturbing that I almost fainted.

Trailing from his torso, protruding from the remains of his purple suit, was a wet mess, pink, blue and glistening. Blood, spurted from the cavity where his legs and abdomen would normally be. ...”I.....I.....I........Shit man, you need help....Th...Tha...tha...that’s gonna be ok, just let me get someone:” is all I could manage to stammer out amidst the swarming nausea that enveloped me. The remains of the man seemed to ignore my sickened state as he continued to claw his way up my body, his internal organs sloshing onto my feet and painting a bloody collage up my clothes. Face to face, he spoke again” BEVWARE THA DARKNISS” he wheezed, sending blood spraying onto my face with each word.

This was all too much. Mentally overwhelmed, I shook my body violently, trying to dislodge this monstrosity. Twisting side to side, arms flailing like some entranced voodoo dancer. Staggering backwards, I slipped on some of the viscera that now added to the new floor decorations of timber and dust. Tumbling backward through my doorway, I landed on my apartment floor. The impact dislodged the half corpse that previously attached itself to me like a tick to a dog. Bounding up onto my feet, more so out of determination to move away from the fetid remains of today visitor rather than to be prepared to face whatever was making the noises in my apartment, I looked around to catch a glimpse of two people struggling in the corner.

One was holding the other aloft by the throat. Turning to face me, I froze, unsure what to do. It was the other purple clad visitor, whom was being choked, her hands gripping the wrists of the other aggressor in a vain attempt to loosen the grip around her throat.

“I ...told... you ....to..... GO!” she croaked in gasping breaths, glaring at the doorway, where I now stood. The other man, if you could call him that, threw the woman to the ground, with such force, that the floor reverberated from the impact. She slid through the empty takeout containers and came to rest motionless against the wall. The assailant was tall and pale; his eyes seemed to be inky black pools, hair dark as night. He was clad in faded blue jeans and bare chest was shrouded in a black leather coat. he started to speak to me, lips curled into a cruel smile, teeth gleaming un-naturally “I don’t know.....I think you’re right on time” he spoke as he started towards me, his voice had a coldness that sent a shiver up my spine and I was still frozen on the spot.


CHAPTER 5

Fear griped me like a vice and squeezed. I prayed that he purple clad lady would wake up; distract this, this, this thing that made its way toward me. Desperate, I started to pray..’Please god, help me out here. I will do anything you ask, just don’t let me die, please...”HA” the approaching figure scoffed”you think GOD is going to save you. Look at how GOD helped them” he pointed one hooked finger at the disembodied figure laying to the left of me and then to the woman slumped against he wall”They were HIS CHILDREN, HIS WARRIORS and look how he rewarded them...with DEATH” By now the pale figure had swaggered within mere inches of me, his putrid breath, sucking the air from my lungs. Now I could see what I was dealing with...and it wasn’t human. Not anymore. “Do you know what they wanted Douglas” he hissed...I was speechless, not because I didn’t have a response, but because opening my mouth meant inhaling more of that putrid odor emanating from my captors mouth. Regardless, he leant over close, and whispered in my ear....”the wanted to kill you,... .......................and so do I”

My heart immediately dropped down into the pit of my stomach, I felt empty inside as if I had not eaten for days.
”oh God” was all I could manage.
“Not quite” he sighed as he clamped his fetid mouth over mine. Although I still couldn’t move my feet, I managed to get a hand up and brought it down on his shoulder. Still he didn’t budge, his mouth sealed with mine. Warm air, filled with decay flowed into my mouth and fought its way into my lungs. Again and again, I brought my fist down, each subsequent blow becoming weaker then the last. I was choking, suffocating on his putrid gas. This was what its like to die I thought as my vision became clouded and pale. I tried to bring my arm up again for one last futile blow, my last coup de gra’, but was no good. It was over. I was over. This was my last moment alive. As darkness settled in around me, a numbness permiated every pore, I let go and let the inky blackness swallow me whole. I was gone.

Letting my limp body fall to the floor, my murderer gazed down at my lifeless corpse intently, as if studying it, committing it to memory. Satisfied in his duty, he turned his attention to the woman, who now stirred groggily from her resting place. “so sorry my dear” he cooed, obviously happy in his success”you failed again”. Grasping her by the head, he effortlessly lifted the woman to her feet. Still groggy from the impact, her eyes lolled around lazily before settling on my still, cold body.
“You bastard” she cursed as she spat blood. “He was supposed to be ours”
Clearly amused by her defiance, even in the face of defeat he tutted”tsk, tsk, tsk. I guess this is one little lost lamb that isn’t going to join YOUR flock after all”
“GO TO HELL!” she sneered as she pulled a knife from behind her back, prepared to fight to her last breath.
With one quick motion, the pale man shifted his weight and slammed her head into the wall, sending flurries of plaster and blood spraying forth from the impact site. His hands dissolving into her head like a child’s hand in a birthday cake. The knife dropped from her hand as her body fell limp.


Releasing his hand with a squelch of mattered hair and brain tissue, she fell to the ground like a rag doll. Nudging her body with the toe of his black boot, he kneeled down beside her.
Noting her chest still rising and falling in shallow breaths, he whispered softly. “I know you can still hear me darling. You bloody Angels are a resilient bunch, ill give you that. But know this, somebody is going to wake up hungry soon and guess who is the main course” depositing a small peck on her bloodied cheek, he stood up and left.

He was right. Someone did wake up hungry, and indeed they fed.



CHAPTER 6

Douglas Brady was in all accounts dead, I did not deceive you, the person I am now was not who I was then. This was changed that fateful day. You see, there is a war being fought, a feud waged between the light and the shadows, goodness and evil, and ultimately, god and the devil. That day I was destined to die. This much was known to all but me. My purple clad visitors, as I now know, were angels, herald to the light. They were to deliver me to the dean, who would recruit me to their side, forever becoming a soldier fighting on the frontline wherever it may be. However this was not to be, for the warriors of night claimed my life for their own, raping my soul and plunging my existence into perpetual night.

Part of me still clung to the old ways, desperately trying grasp onto the normality of the life that was mine to live, mere days ago. Staring at the mug of coffee I held in my hands, I wished that it would taste the same, not this sour, manky liquid that it had now become. Frustrated, I slammed the cup down on the stove, sending the vessel and its foul contents spraying upwards and outwards like a exploding firework lit on the forth of July.
“SHIT, FUCK, DAMNIT” I screamed, stamping my foot through the timber floor.” ARGGGGGHHHHHH!”

This was getting to be big problem. Every day I got stronger, every day I grew more and more hungry. Glancing at the mutilated, mangled corpse of the female angel, I knew that as much as it disgusted me, I must eat. As I approached the bloodied remains, I knew that today’s meal would not be enough to sustain me for another day. I must venture out and and seek something more substantial, something...fresh.

Picking through the remains, I wondered where I would end up. Everything was different now. My eyes had already started to darken and my skin pale. Soon people would notice the difference and this place would no longer prove to be a safe haven anymore.
I needed to clear my head. I needed to walk.



Wiping my bloodied mouth on the sleeve of my shirt, I made my way over to the door, grabbing my coat as I passed the sofa. Changing my mind I sighed. “Awww, to hell with it” and ran towards the window. “Let’s see what this new body can do” leaping forward, I dove through the glass alcove and into the street 3 stories below. Landing with a thud, glass tinkered all around me like sparkling rain. “Groovy”

Dusting myself off and slapping on my shades, I ventured off into the unknown, passing people in the street going about their everyday business, hurrying to and thro like busy ants. Not one of them realized what awaited them at the end, oblivious to the war that continued on around them and their eventual fate depending on the victor. Stopping to gaze at an advertising wall, I scanned the leaflets of missing people, posted by their loved ones, begging for their safe return. I then came to the startling realization that, if I ever saw my picture posted up there, decorating the wall, pleading like all the others for my safe return or just a phone call, I couldn’t. That person was gone. Musing over how many others shared my fate, how many other recruits walked the streets and what my purpose was in this battle, I turned away.

Smiling to myself, I headed off. I didn’t know what lie on the path ahead or where I was going to go, but one thing was certain. Life was a whole lot more interesting when you’re dead.



THE END….OR IS IT????????

The two of me.
By Scott Drechsler
8/4/07
Copyright and intellectual property of Scott Drechsler

Out of place and out of time
That is how I’ll start this rhyme.
This thread tis bout darkness
and darkness you find
enveloped within
this lyrical chime

My life’s an enigma
My past is a riddle
Then there little ol me
who’s caught in the middle
Theres two sides to me
just like a nickel
I betch you cant guess
which plays second fiddle

As I mentioned before
This time’s not my own
My true spirit of self
Is a long way from home

I long for the battles
The bloodsheded grin
the screams of anguish and sorrow
Of agony and sin
Inside’s trapped a warrior
A long feral thing
But no ones deemed worthy
to be his favorite plaything.

Long gone are the times
Of honor and grace
The pathways un-broken
By technology and faith
Where every step taken
No matter the pace
Could see you life ended
You final resting place

For every yin there is a yang
To darkness there is light
For every pain there is a pang
of devilish delight.
For evil lurks within us all
Tis the nature of the beast
I long to fight both tooth and claw
The monster yerns to feast.

Cursed I am this retched life
Of society and things
Locked away this darkness rife
A mournful cry it sings

For times have changed but i have not
Venturing deep I did go
To find out why
I did not stop
crimson blood
it shed and flowed

Deeper and deeper
I ventured forth
peeling back layers
to seek out the source
The damage was done
The monster sprang forth
Awoke was the sleeper
who tore at his keeper

A battle raged on
Between goodness and bad
Of which there were casualties
of Wolven and Man
The code of the Warrior
The nature of Beasts
No alliance was struck
Segregated I am.

This uneasy union
that was struck long ago
has been much one sided
the cracks starting to show
My other is calling
Beckoning come in
come join the darkness
come join us in sin

Together we’ll be happy
I promise, I care
The bloodlust I’ll work on
the pleasure we’ll share.
The flesh we can render
The screams in the air
They all will deserve it
The truth that I swear.

For years now this has gone on
well 12 to be exact
12 years of remaining guarded
Of watching and act
And yet he still whispers
come on make us whole.
His tight furry fingers
they pull at my soul

My life is a nightmare
this much is told
My true self is locked up
I can not ever be whole
Of times I do wonder
More times come of late
if union is possible
or is that tempting fate

So now there you have it
A glimpse you did see
A moment of insight
In what its like to be me.

Ode to LDG

Look at me, look at me
I’m Livig Dead Girl
Don’t you see

I’ll make 10 topics in a single bound
so, long as people gather round

Something always happens to be
in-ter-resting that revolves around me

I take hard drugs and act nazi
I slit my wrists, just to watch them bleed

I blame it all on the alcohol
and the drugs that make you crawl

I do need help, but ac-cept none
why perhaps, just for fun?

I do this stuff and wonder why
and af-ter-wards I do but cry

Why do people dis-like me
Ima cool girl, dont you see.

This is for our Un-dead girl
who’s constant topics make toes curl

But deep inside I think shes cool,
A litle bit crazy and sometimes a fool

If only she’d think before she act
we all could seperate the fiction from the fact

Infact, I wish her all the best
on her life which is, but one big test

I pray she comes out half unscathed
And lives to fight another days.

MVC BY NIGHT
all was quiet in MVC house
nobody stirred
no even a mouse
I pace back and forth
looking a yonder
who is up also
that indeed do I wonder
I called to P.Moore
from new Zealand is he
I shouted out loudly
No reply I received
An echo sounds out
the noise does rebound
Of these empty halls
my voice is that sound
I sit and I wait
for the ol pitter patter
of familiar feet
and MVC chatter
fore for you it is night
and for me it is day
I guess we will chat
some other day.

The Turmoil within. Copyright 2007
BY..Firewolf81/Scott Drechsler
Created and Written 19/02/2007


There’s a pain in the darkness.
That I cant withstand.
It haunts me.
It taunts me.
Slowly driving me mad.

It tears at my soul.
It rips me apart.
This pain in the darkness.
Is destroying my heart.

My mind knows one thing.
My body Another.
How long must I stay here.
Before I become someone other.

This battle has raged on.
for years now within.
The war scars, they mold me.
They taint me with sin.

I can not lose.
This battle you see.
For destroy things I will
and evil i’ll be.

So beware the darkness.
Always keep it in check.
Your life will be shattered.
Forever

Live

And

Regret.







more from my stream of thought.

We are but dust, waiting to be blown away by the gentle breeze of the ages as memories fade like a photograph left in the sun, bleaching our thoughts like the remnants of bone and desolate beings. Gone are the times of joy and laughter, snatched away mid breath by a thief who has no face and no name but is everywhere and nowhere. Born of both misery and happiness yet not one is better than the other as both are but a feeling to show life and should be rejoiced in equal parts of rapture and loathing. Each heartbeat brings us closer to life and death, like a glorious swan song spelling out our sweet sweet sorrows for the world to hear. Such beauty is lost upon the likes of man who was born with ears but lacks the ability to truly listen, he hears only the voice of his mind that speaks of his goodness and truth. Spread forth the gospel of pain and suffering that both life and death for the two dance endlessly and tirelessly, spinning on the edge of reason yet so close indeed. Fear not the end but embrace the start and shy away from the evils of life itself lest you be tainted and drink from its waters. For without life there is no death and death no life so celebrate them both for they are legion and they are hungry. Glorious is the puppet cut of its strings for it has no master and no life, yet no sorrow.

Cut your strings and be free.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —


Hark o the call the suffering children for they have no voice, a cry out in anguish suddenly silenced by the evils of man. Fear not the end sweet child for in the end there is much to rejoice, a end to sadness across the plagues our land.

The evils of war spread on swift wings, turning brother on brother and families distraught. Is there no end to the seeping madness sweet and seductive like a lover, she melds in our thought.

Innocent lives stolen, torn from existence by bloodied hands and dirty fingernails, rendering heartache without mercy. Children converted and mutated into mindless killers with a taste for blood that is unquenchable renders them thirsty.

The time of man, ruled by a iron fist of officials and diplomats, comfortably placed in the safety of their brethren. Millions extinguished at a moments notice, expendable soldiers march to their demise, fresh charred flesh that won’t see heaven.

Lives lost needlessly, the children cry, parents grieve, all which falls like tears from angels, absorbed into the blood soaked earth no splash for nothin. Why do we die, destroy our lives, for fear of living. How long until god himself pushes that button?


— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -


Death stalks the living like a hidden killer waiting in the shadows, blade at the ready, glimmering like a crescent moon on a starry night. Feel his breath on your neck, the icy chill of the wind and his eyes, the unknown presence that arouses the hairs to stand to attention like so many soldiers waiting to enter the fray. Tick Tock Tick Tock, can you hear the clock ticking, seconds falling away into the void, falling forever, endlessly and motionless, carcases of life lost to the sand. The weight of living bears down on us like so much gravity, crushing us more and more, misshaping us, offering hunched back and crooked joints as time wears us away, eroding us like the waves wear away the cliff, crashing eternally. Can you taste him, the hidden presence of decay hidden in every meal, for you consume his work and devour his art to sustain life. His smell, carried on the wind that caresses your face like the gentle hand of a lover long lost, marking you, kissing you for you will be his. In the end, he will take you, his loving embrace cutting swathe through all that you have surrounded yourself with as he carries you away on blackened wings, free and loving. Embrace him for he loves and is merciful, he watches over you even now as you read this, whispering sweet nothings into your ear like a spectral Romeo wooing his Juliet. He is the first and last love you will ever know, he is legion, he is death and one day, he will come for his lost children and embrace you, his hug forever sweet and everlasting.



— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -


With no moments notice
Your life turned upside down
Free falling forever
There is no safe ground

Buried inside are
Worry and fear
Even my friends
Are enemies here

Jagged and painful
Like a cancerous growth
The longer I live
The deeper I go

A whole mind now shattered
Now a shadow of myself
All who I was
Is now placed on the shelf

I worry and I panic
Chilled to the bone
Surrounded by loved ones
Yet I feel so alone

A world rife with danger
Every moment your last
Just ask anyone with it
ANXIETIES A BLAST!



— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —


Of closed mind
And closed heart
Of love and destruction
Life can be mean

Of false promise
And broken dreams
Of hatred and regret
Life can be sorrow

Of joy
And mirth
Of friendship and hope
Life can be happiness

Of darkness
and death
Of pain and fear
Life can be draining

Of hopelessness
And defeat
Of surrender and abandon
Life can be pointless

Of strength
And determination
Of confidence and sweat
Life can be worth living

YOU WROTE THAT!

I need to find some time before I read all that. haha.

That was one deep story.

I wrote all of that and much much more.. I’m a writer and a poet even more than I am an artist.

firewolf81 wrote: I wrote all of that and much much more.. I’m a writer and a poet even more than I am an artist.

Do you write for a living?

BORED


When masturbation has lost its charm
perhaps you try the other arm
If this don’t work and your feeling glum
Tabasco sauce can make things fun
just dash some on and rub away
No longer bored but terrible pain
run around right mad and quick
how the hell did i burn my dick
to the sink you will go
or perhaps the garden hose
soon enough the burn will stop
you realize then you have your cock
all exposed for all to see
once again you surely flee
taking off your manhood flailing
half way there you hear the wailing
someone hurry and hurry quick
there goes junior and his prick
They come running the massive hoard
I guessing someones no longer bored.




THE BAD TWINKIE


Twinkies rock
they taste so good
the little sponge fingers
taste just like they should

They’re wrapped up and golden
filled with cream but not cum
unless you are lonely
and desperate for fun

so if you’re a pervert
and self fill your snack
be a good bloke
and DONT put them back

For if you have flat mates
and they do not take care
they might take a cum one
and find some curled hair

Worse even still
they may take a bite
on realizing the contents
their face will turn white

then watch them hurl
all over the floor
the remains of the Twinkie
will be thrown out the door

the rumors will spread
they’ll come thick and quick
there goes the guy
who eats twinkles with dick

so next time you get peckish
and you reach for the sponge
ask your self this
is this someones fun?





THE MORE YOU KNOW



Knowledge is power
the power to know
to battle be used
or only for show

If you want power
it’s knowledge you seek
it can turn strong
the timid and weak

if someone confronts you
and you get quite rattled
you can use knowledge
insted of id-ot prattle

so arm yourself well
prepare for your life
aided by knowledge
you can dodge fates cruel knife

fore those with the smarts
will surely do well
dashed to the wayside
the unarmed have fell




MVC BY NIGHT
all was quiet in MVC house
nobody stirred
no even a mouse
I pace back and forth
looking a yonder
who is up also
that indeed do I wonder
I called to P.Moore
from new Zealand is he
I shouted out loudly
No reply I received
An echo sounds out
the noise does rebound
Of these empty halls
my voice is that sound
I sit and I wait
for the ol pitter patter
of familiar feet
and MVC chatter
fore for you it is night
and for me it is day
I guess we will chat
some other day.

King Boo wrote:

firewolf81 wrote: I wrote all of that and much much more.. I’m a writer and a poet even more than I am an artist.

Do you write for a living?

Not for a living, but I would like to.

have had a few things published, but I haven’t made a career out of it....yet