My niece

Author's Note: As many of you know I became an uncle this Tuesday. She is a healthy baby girl and is a whopping 5 lbs. 12 oz. I noticed something while holding her that really inspired me to write this. I don't normally write anecdotes so this felt nice to write.


So last night I was visiting my sister in the hospital and I was holding my niece in a rocking chair while she was sucking on her pacifier. This happened like five or six times so I know it isn't coincidence. She would push the pacifier out of her mouth and when I would try to put it back in she wouldn't open her mouth. So after two or three minutes of increasing anger, she would begin to cry and flail her arms. When this happened I would have to push the pacifier back in, otherwise she would just get madder and madder. It's amazing how such a little thing can get so angry. I realized that even though she was only two days old she has emotions and feeling just like any adult. For her tiny size, she's also really strong. It always makes my day better when I get to see her, and it makes me sad when I don't. That's also where I want to be right now so I'm going to stop writing before I get angry.

The Truman Show: Day 2

Leap of Faith-

Sometimes life just calls for us to throw caution to the wind and jump into the unknown. Holding on to what we know and what we believe. Even if you don't know anything, hold on to what you don't know, it's practically the same thing. At one point in our lives we will have to jump, and even if the unknown is the scariest thing known to man, it defines who we are and who we aren't. The idea of the leap of faith scares most people but emboldens other people to stay true to what they say and to who they are. It is part of seeking the Truth. Those who are willing to jump and embrace the idea that nothing is real and try to find what is real. Truman leaps when he first leaves the dome, and even if he doesn't know anything he hangs on to what he wants to know and what he knows is fake. Even if everything he knows is wrong, he just hangs on to what he believes and that is all that really matters. We will never know what happened to Truman because we will have to experience it ourselves to really understand what it is like.

The Truman Show: Day 1

Are we a pawn in some gigantic game? If so who's orchestrating it? Is it God, or a human?

I don't think that we are pawns in some gigantic game. There isn't a human that has the kind of power needed to control somebody's entire life. If it's God I don’t see why He would control our lives. There isn't any real reason to control us unless it's his idea of some sick and twisted game, and I don't believe that's true. Why are there homicidal maniacs if they're being controlled? Most people live their lives just doing as they're supposed to but that doesn't mean that they couldn't go kill somebody if they felt like it. Also, if our decisions are preordained, why do we feel indecision. Shouldn't we just choose what we are supposed to with no hesitation? Life seems to complicated and random for everything to be preordained. If this is all being planned how would somebody manage every single person, who died, who lived, who was born, what their name is, it just seems to much for one being to control. Then this raises the question whether or not that they decide the important decisions, like what wars are fought, and leaves the minor things like deaths and births to nature. This section of the movie left me very confused and made me want to see the end.

The Blue Vengeance Part 2: The Fortress

As the man ran away I chased him through the alleyways. I soon realized that we were really close to my apartment. The poor chap ran into a dead end, turned around and pulled out his gun. Most people are afraid of guns being pointed at them, but at this point I didn't feel even a twinge of fear. Don't ya just love adrenaline sometimes? I walked over with my knife and just began talking to him.

"You can't escape me." I slowly hissed out between my teeth, playing up my evilness.

"Why are you killing innocent cops?" He didn't show any fear as he said this, only something that looked and sounded like curiosity and disgust.

"No cop is innocent." Slid out of mouth like a slippery snake.

"What did they do to you that was bad enough to earn this vendetta?" The man slowly asked now, with eyes that were filled with curiosity.

"You will see." I said as hurled my knife straight at his chest.

Ducking towards the ground, his shots flew over my head as he collapsed to the ground. I ran over to him only to find that he was still conscious, still had a gun, and was very pissed off. The bullet flew out of the barrel and straight into my left arm. Feeling the lead bury itself into my flesh was the most painful thing that has ever happened, and I loved it. The pain seemed to clear my clouded head and I used a rag dipped in chloroform to knock out the man. My knife had embedded itself in his sternum. Not deep enough to kill, but he was bleeding a lot. Wait, I realized that some of the blood was mine and so I tore a strip off of my shirt and tied it around the wound to stem the bleeding. Shrugging the man over my shoulder I walked off to apartment, thankful that there wasn't anybody around.

Inside my apartment I confiscated his gun and then checked on my mom. She still wasn't looking very good so I wanted to get started on the chief. As I approached he began to stir. All to suddenly he was on his feet yelling into his radio. Jumping up and slicing through the radio cord I held a knife to his throat. The man then did what I least expected. He began smiling and said,

"The F.B.I. are on their way here right now" and he began laughing hysterically. At this point he had pissed me off so with one deft slice, I slashed his throat. He fell to the floor clutching his throat. It was my turn to laugh now. I only had a little time to prepare before the cops would be breaking down my door. Taking his gun I tied a string to the trigger on one end and I tied the other to the handle of the door. After that I taped the gun above the door so whoever opened the door would be shot in the head.  The knives I needed were all over the house so I began looking around for all of them I could find. Finding six I tried to think of where to set up more traps, I set one up in my room. It was designed so that when somebody walks in it sets off the trip wire a knife swings from the ceiling and into their head. Finally, when that was done I went up towards my mom's room to wait for my friends to drop in. The fresh skin on her made her look so beautiful I thought, as a gun went off.

Shouts rang up the stairs and from my room as the F.B.I. shouted for paramedics. I walked out of my room and waited right outside my mom's room. A man started coming up the stairs and when he saw me he began shouting downstairs but he was cut off mid-sentence when I threw my knife at his face. He went down and I raced forward to grab his gun. More people started coming up the stairs and started shooting at me on sight. One bullet grazed my leg as I returned fire and brought down one agent and wounded another. Their increasing rate of fire forced me into my mom's room. Two men entered and I killed both but not before taking a bullet to the thigh. Crouching in the far corner of the room I waited with knives drawn waiting for the next person to enter. As I gazed up at the door, I saw my mom walk in. My heart leapt with joy and then the world disappeared.

The Blue Vengeance

Author's Note: I'm not quiet sure what inspired this story but I thought it would be cool to see into the mind of a killer. The main character in this story hates law enforcement officers because they killed his mom when he was young. This is complete fiction. I'm not some psychotic killer or anything.

Light explodes into the dim apartment as the door is kicked open by men in dark blue uniforms. As I was three I didn't understand what was going on so I started crying. The cruel men looked me in the eyes and continued in farther looking for my mother. Gunshots filled the air and were closely followed by screams. Tears filled my eyes as my mother's lifeless body fell to the ground, gun in hand. Here white dress was stained red with her blood. She looked at me and told me that she was sorry that she failed me as a mother. This was the start of my career.

Eternal satisfaction lies in revenge against the ones that have wronged. Seeing the fear in their eyes and hearing their muffled screams. Watching them try to escape is incredibly amusing. They think they thought of something brilliant, but when they fail the disappointment in their eyes is stunning. Most realize that the end is coming and see that it's futile to resist, but some fight to the very end. Those few people are the most fun. I enjoy making them fight and dance. They call me sick and psychotic but nobody but me knows the real truth. I'm the only normal person in this town. Everybody else is insane. As I slit their throats I always whisper "It's okay Mama you'll be better soon". She is so proud of me.

Cops are the essence of evil. They are always shooting innocent people and getting away with it. They always look so proud in their little uniforms. Until I come along of course. Blue uniforms turn red and smiles to screams. Nobody will ever catch me because I am smarter than all of them. They always become part of my collection eventually. This time is different though. There are lots of people to kill and now the F.B.I is involved because they have labeled me a serial killer. With more people I have more bodies, and with more bodies I have more skin to harvest from them and attach to my mom to help make her better.

One of my favorite hobbies is looking out the window and seeing people on the streets so frightened. They jump at any little noise and are extremely paranoid. I have seen seven moving trucks leaving this place since I started killing people. This little dog I have loves to chase people and when they walk by the alley near my house. Oh, the way they scream is wonderful! Many people won't even come near my house any more.

I have been watching the F.B.I. headquarters and know that the leader of the "team" is renting an apartment three blocks away. He always carries a gun with him so this could be interesting. Waiting by some homeless people around a can fire I waited until twilight. Homeless people are quite interesting. This guy walked by slowly and watched our every move. He continued on and I slipped behind him. Being a "serial killer" has advantages. Drawing a sharpened umbrella, I stab him in the kidney. Grabbing, his mouth muffle the scream and politely tell him "If you make a sound I cut your lips off". Struggling to get away he kicks my knee and begins to limp-run away.

Author's Note: I didn't name this piece because it doesn't need a name. This is designed to be whatever you think it is.

It seeps in like a living thing. Shadows wave without light and yet are visible. It slinks in, slowly waiting. Observing it's prey with constant intensity. Eternally waiting with ever decreasing patience. Living in the spotlight yet not seen by mortal eyes. Not dark but not light, but caught somewhere in between. Filled with nothing, and knowing everything. Killing is not it's job, though the aftermath of it is death. Slowly sinking in and filling your consciousness and destroying everything that was "real". Nothing is safe from it's prowling nature. Cracking your mind like a walnut it will ask the questions that most people live in fear of. People cower from these questions, and only a brave few ponder them. People think they know how the world works but they know nothing. The beast never receives and answer so it slinks away, joining the hunt again.

War

Author's Note: This is my response to "A Perfect Day for Bananafish". I've been doing a lot of poems lately because I frankly don't think that my poetry is very good and so I've been trying to practice it. This piece is about how war changes people and you can never go back.

Bullets fly
Shells explode
Mouths open in screams
without
sound

Eyes fixed
only
Upon the charred
bloody, body

Knowing nobody will
grieve
over this
young person

No one
will ever
care
about the lives
changed by
war

At first always
eager to
fight
eager to
please
eager to
die

Always remembering
Eternally forgetting
As the bus rolls to
a stop
and my eyes
open.