Sundance

Sundance, an ancient art. A ritualistic fusion of primal dance and doped adrenaline escapades into the mind. A scent more foul than ancient sewers assaulted my nose, along with a mixture of acrid flesh and boiling water.

I had been bound, held without regard on charges only these tribesmen know. What was left of the rest of my expedition crew lain in course piles on the ground. The thunderous, rolling beats of their drums scared off all other creatures, nary a single flap of a wing could be seen through the clear, bright sky.

I wondered, maddened by my surroundings, at what fate I had in store. I had gave up my god days ago, months of capture proving how prayer never worked. I begged forgiveness, now, as the sharp, shrill cry of a blade to stone called out through the rest of the cacophony.

May you all burn in hell, I thought, as the spear tip raised from stone and pointed towards me.

May you all burn in hell.

Image source: Roberto Pazzi/Daily Mail UK

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Faded

Today, I faded.

Fell, more like, as if my body no longer kept my soul. It fell to the ground, a sharp crack as the neck snapped from the sudden impact. I wanted to stand there. I wanted to believe that it couldn’t have happened the way it did.

But it did.

And here I slip, as the world goes grey around me. Thoughts became fleeting things, no longer bound by will or the need to conserve precious resources. Memories abound of my life, of things I had forgotten or things that had never seemed quite right. And then, nothing spun. Nothing moved, not even my thoughts. I stood stock still in black twilight, void of feeling, of remorse or love. Everything was gone. And I hoped that, soon, I would be gone too.

I heard a whimper, a whispered moan of sorrow. It enveloped me, pulling my limited existence in all directions until I stood behind the source. What had only been moments had been days, at the least, as I saw my mother crying before a casket in a dark room. I could hear her voice call my name, giving me my memories of her back as if they had never left. I felt sorry. I wished to have been able to console her, to hold her in my arms and tell her that it would be okay.

But soon the sobbing stopped, and I lost track of everything around me.

That was the day I faded, pulled beneath death’s wing, to never know what else I could have been.

Barstool Conversations Collection

​March 20th, 2016

“The drunks are gone.” She said.

“Well, not gone as in dead or missing, just out of the bar.” Don’t remember why she had to clear the air on that one. But when I look into her eyes and smell her breath, I could tell.

“Wait, what was I saying?” She looked around unsteadily, slightly swerving. She had to hold herself up with a hand on the bar top.

“I think you had a bit too much to drink there, lass.” It’s true, she wasn’t filling my cups right anymore.

“Bartender gratuity should remain in cash, not alcohol. Remember that.”

“Who said what now?” She stammered. Guess this is how the night would end.
March 21st, 2016

“Why is the rum always gone?” He stares at an empty glass he has lifted. The same glass he had for some time. Another full glass sat next to it.

“Cause you have been staring at an empty glass for an hour?” Crass as always, my favorite lass.

“Riiiight, and is that why my fingers are twitching?” His eyes are fully glazed over, no way he was driving home tonight.

“Okay, Sparrow, I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” Smart call. Now just to wait for her to fill my glass, again.

“Bah, always with the jests, wench. Le’ see you try and stop me!” He slips a large bill, probably too drunk to realize it, into her tip jar before storming off to another bartender, empty glass in hand. I slide the full one in front of me, not a single nip out of it. Rum might not be my favorite, but it’s a good second.

March 22nd, 2016

“Sit down lass, you going too fast.”

“Never is too fast when we’re this busy, my friend.” A quick smirk, slight feisty one, cross her red lips.

“Then lemme tell ya somethin.”

“Not another of your fanciful tells, I hope!”

“I’ll listen.” I chime in.

“Lass should be more like ya, stranger.”

“I’m in no hurry to get anywhere.” Was true, had all night to drown my sorrows this time.

“Aye, if only more people were to think that way these days, m’ friend. But aye, be a decade ago today that I first arrived in this gods forsaken bar. The lass was probably a wee thing back then, but the one behind the counter then was this beauty that no man could ever dream of.”

“Oh, you mean Shiela?” I had been coming here longer than he had.

“Nah, I mean her twin! Of course I mean Shiela! Gods got no manners in men these days… Where was I…”

“Talking about Shiela the first day you ever stopped here?”

“Right, right. Aye, she was a fine Lass, something this ‘ere wench could never be in her prime. She was a sweet one on me, too, if ya know what I mean.”

October 2nd, 2016

“I wonder why the room keeps spinning.” He shuffled uneasily, spilling a bit of his vodka.

“Maybe it’s because you’re drunk?” I had to open my mouth, maybe I was drunk this time.

“Thought it was that little two-step spin play, there.” The bartender spun around once or twice, a bit of delight lighting her usually grim face.

“Maybe it was, lass. But I can’t tell. How bout another drink?” 

“How bout tomorrow, last call is over.” Shut down. I always smiled at her unusual coolness.

October 9th, 2016

“You know, just gotta love the atmosphere here. It’s definitely friendly, albeit busy.” The man swayed slightly, nearly slipping on the drink he was spilling on the floor. I have been here plenty of times, and this time was definitely different.

“Have you ever been here before?” I had to ask, sipping gingerly from my glass. Had been a bitter day.

“Nope, I usually stay at my hole in the wall on the other side of town.” The lass behind the counter turned and grunted at him. “Maybe ya need to return to your hole, bud.”

“Aye, gotta love them hole in the walls. Their bartenders get drunker than the customers!” I snorted, he was wreaking with brew by this point.

“Is that true?”

“Bet your sweet ass they do, but are faster at slapping a grabber than any bouncer is to nab them.”

“I wouldn’t suggest to do so here, neither, my friend.” The lass behind the counter would knock him into next week.

Teaser Chapter; Waking Nightmare.

This is a chapter from Waking Dream. Not telling where! This one took a very unexpected twist when I wrote it. Enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

​Frigid air flows around me. I cannot see, for black enfold my vision. My body felt chilled deep to the bone. Each breath I take shatters frozen ice off of my lungs. It was as if the ice cold grip of death had taken hold of me.

My thoughts whirled. Had I not passed the trials? Had I caused my own undoing? How strong was the magic I used against the beast of sands? Blue tinged became visible as I spun in the void once more. Stalactites of pure ice formed within my field of view. The haunting, slow, reverberating sobs that I have heard in this field before call out to me again.

But the ice formed into a solid platform. My feet touched ground, and everything around me turned blue. Cavernous walls stretched for miles before me, with no end in sight. Behind me was a giant wall, as if I was stuck beneath a glacier. I reached out and touched the wall and my own image came forth. I looked younger, stronger than I remember but the facial details were the same.

I nodded, turned and the image did the same. I stepped back, but the image stepped forward, through the wall and stood before me, real as real can get. My hand touched my blade instinctively, and the doppelganger smiled.

“Stay your blade. For this trial is not a test of strength in arms.”

That was my voice! I let my hand fall from the hilt, staring at the cold menace that was forming on the face of my twin. “Do you have a name?”

The expression turned even colder. “I’m you, David. I embody all that you are and were. All that will ever be.” It grinned, then turned to the wall. “Why do you think you have been brought here, David? This ice tomb, for that is what this place is, is home to what?”

I pondered for a time. I did not know the answer, and admitted it.

“Then let me explain. This is the inside of your very soul. Your existence. This place, here, is how your soul was when it was forged. Cold, unknown, without a true form. Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

The twin began to walk past me. I was dumbfounded, not sure as to where this would go, so I turned and followed him. We walked for a time before the walls began to take on a more structured look. Doors began to dot the hall, each one crude at first.

“This is your memory. This long hall reaches for a good while. Each door represents a stage of life from birth to death. The first several are crude, barely built.” He abruptly stopped, turned to the right, and tapped the door. “Let’s take a look at this one.”

The door opened, and immediately we were transported to another place, another time. I barely recognized it, but I knew where we were. It was the house my parents had when I was just a toddler of three. Sitting there, on the couch was my half drunk father, my mother sobbing at his side as my lithe, young form waltz through the house, not knowing what was truly going on.

“This would be before the lengthy divorce, I believe. A sad time for your mother, which led to you being raised solely by her.”

With that, the room faded, and we continued down the hall. Each door became stronger, better built, and more frequent. The formative years, I guessed. Soon, the walls were nothing but door after door. Finally, we stopped at a dead end. The sudden change in the walls turned from grey to burnt red, and there was no floor going beyond.

“This, my friend, is where your trial begins. You have learned of who you are, but where in your life are we that it ends so abruptly. Tell me wrong, you die. Tell me right, you’ll surpass the worst challenge any mortal has ever been faced with.”

I nodded. I understood what was meant.

“This is where I was pulled from my true life, isn’t it?”

The doppelganger smiled. The entirety of his demeanor changed, and his form began to change. Wings sprouted from his back, his hair changed to a solid gold and began flowing to the floor. His face became angelic, a soft, sad smile taking over.

“You nearly died that day. Instead, someone has pulled you from that world to the one you found yourself in. Since then, your true life is still going, but in a coma. Only an hour has passed, but your fiance still sits at your side as you are being rushed to a hospital. But this trial was a farce. Truth was that I was sent to retrieve you.”

I stared into the oceans of his eyes. If all that were true, then why walk me through this hall? The angel lowered into a deep bow. “It seems I have been discovered by your benefactor. I must take my leave. Farewell.”

The angel departed with a puff of white smoke. The walls shook, the floor beneath me gave way, and soon I was falling back through the void once more.

Be Prepared

Surprises come in all shapes and sizes.

Feature Image Source

** Disclaimer: This is my most graphic story to date. Please be advised that before reading, if you are easily upset by violence or graphic content please move on to another post. **

Screams. The horrible, blood curdling, sudden screams. I have been locked in a room for who knows how long, without so much a light to see. The smell of urine and rusted metal prevail the room, musky with the added distaste of sweat. Shackles hold my hands together. Another scream shuddered through the silence, before falling to the deaf.

The darkness has my mind racing, time is no longer measurable. The true nature of fear and panic settle to dull ache as I await my turn for the torture room. Sometimes I think I see the flickering of red light underneath a small gap between floor and door, but passed it off as my mind playing tricks in my fevered mentality. I pull the chains that have me bound, but only find stability in their taut lengths. My head pounds against the bricks as I try to think of some way of escape.

Then there was a sound. Dull, distant at first. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Rhythmic, slow and pounding. My eyes search for some purchase of light, to give my torments a face or other thing to go with the menace. Thunk, thunk. Closer now, my mind racing. Then there was a heavy pounding, as if wood on metal. A red light began to flow towards me as the door slowly opened. The sudden luminance blinded my eyes. The heavy rapping of a rod against the tiles began, each a cacophonous, maddening barrage to ears all too accustomed to silence.

I tried to see. My eyes opened slowly as I began to glance upwards. The movement was met with a solid blow to the head. When I next came to, my eyes could barely open.

And I wish they hadn’t. I was suspended in the center of a large room. It was brightly lit, focus lights pointed to the center of the blood stained room. A man, far as I could tell from his hooded and bloodsoaked form, stood before me. There were others around, but none carried life. The man reached a filthy glove and pinched my chin within his thumb and forefinger. He forced my head left and right, then turned and nodded towards the far corner, beyond my lessened sight.

A woman stepped out from the shadows, a camera in hand. Black rimmed glasses framed vagrant blue eyes, eyes of the soulless. Her small, slender frame was wrapped in the finest of formal clothes, as if this was some business meeting rather than a deadly torture chamber. She sets the camera atop a tripod that the faceless man had pulled from afar, then smiles.

“Welcome to your death, Mr. Brewster.” She points to the camera beside her, the smile fading into a business focus. “We will be recording this for a niche group, ones who pay top dollar to see vivisections and bodily mutilation for pure enjoyment. Your rivals and enemies will thoroughly enjoy this.”

She then turns the camera on before leaving the room, a heavy door closing behind her. The man grunts, turns to the camera. His voice was a guttural growl unlike anything I have ever heard.

“The Judges have spoken. The sentence is death by torture.”

He shambles over to a chair with the remains of a woman. He pulls a gritted knife from within his apron and carves into her stomach. The woman suddenly screams, blood spurting from her mouth. Fear and agony begin to take my mind as I shift against the bonds holding my arms above me. They shook, but to no avail as the man began pulling her intestines from her gullet. He strings it out from her, then moves towards me, wrapping the still warm organs around my throat. The woman’s body began to convulsed heavily before a final death call rang from her lips, her head falling forward. I began to swing my legs against the shackles attached from below, trying to do whatever I could to squirm the sickly, quickly cooling membrane from my own skin.
Then there was a large boom. Blood covered my face as the man, whose head was now a cavity, fell to his knees. The camera was kicked, my mind racing as bodies began filling the room. “…too late for her…” voices swam as fast as the room, and I began to vomit. Soon, my sight was gone from fear, then shortly my mind.

This was the post I originally talked about here. I have decided to post the original one here for the sake of getting criticism for the style and storytelling, and would love to hear everyone’s thoughts.

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The Day the World Faded

“We are doomed.”

“The President of the United States has announced the launch of nuclear weapons into enemy and ally countries, and we are getting reports of the same from all around the globe. Russia was the first to launch theirs as ours went airborne. Targets are unknown, so I urge everyone to please find the nearest fallout point and take shelter.”

“I repeat, nuclear missiles are airborne. Take shelter…” [Transmission cuts here]

Transcript from the last news video aired on Death Day, January 26th, 2052.

With the Nuclear War, all life is at an inevitable loss.
Image source on DeviantArt

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