A Mind in Motion

I don’t remember much of my life before the wagon train to execution. Everything is hazy, as if I had no existence until then. But the blade of a steel axe rising high above my head, I distinctly recall. The smell of copper dripping from the last poor bastard to kneel upon the stained wood beneath me. The stench of horses. Mud. Gravel. Brimstone. When fire unexpectedly exploded around us, raining in a torrent of deadly chaos....I felt something within me come alive. This fever, igniting, under my sizzling flesh. It filled my senses, rushing my veins like growling ecstasy. I ached with a knowledge I couldn’t grasp into words. But I can comprehend it vibrating in my bones. It is what whispers to me now as I drive my axe forward, striking soft pebbled scales in a frantic blow for survival. That consuming molten honey humming in my muscles, chanting ‘kin of my kin, blood of my blood’ , while massive sharp teeth snap and snarl at circling soldiers. My heart constricts, knowing...

     It's trailing after me.      Wherever it's coming from.      That stupid eerie whistling noise.      It's kind of like an old song...but not?      Stupid old miner's house. Stupid ghost stories. Stupid cute boys...      I should have known better than to take on the dare just to impress Josh. No matter how handsome the basketball player is, he isn't worth dying in a goddamn haunted shit hole for. I should have shrugged them off at the beach party. Should have watched how much I was drinking. Shouldn't have kissed those stupid soft lips.      Sigh.      Too late now.      "Where is that coming from?!" I can't make out shit beyond shapes in this fucking place, and it's almost like someone is literally right behind me whistling that tune in some bad horror movie trope. Up the creaking steps. Down the worn dusty hallway. Past the numerous open ...

You want noise when something happens. A blaring warning sign. A whisper of foreboding. A chill of uncertainty. You want another person nearby. A hand to hold onto. A rush of moving bodies to motivate you to safety. A sense of unity. A pack survival mentality.   You want a tool. A device to give you advantage. Hope for success. A net for security, should you have to risk it all. A life line. What you don’t want. What you fear the most. Is the unpredictability of nothingness. Because that is where real terror begins. Humanity is so certain our greatest enemies will meet us on the battlefields in manners we understand, that we never stop to consider.... That they don’t think the way we do. There will be no siren. No amount of individuals beside you to make a difference. No technology to aid you. All there will be is a moment--a single flickering second of discord--and then.... oblivion. You see, our greatest enemies can perceive our mortal coil....

**Sometimes my dreams deliver awesome, twisted, stories for me to enjoy. This is one I had this morning** The old heavy rusted iron door unexpectedly slammed shut behind. Whirling around, lump of fear rising in her throat, she reached out for the handle in the darkness consuming her vision and tugged. But the door refused to move. “Michael,” she called out shakily, hoping he had heard the door close from where he had been just meters down the hall. “Michael,” she called again, louder, her tone growing frantic. How could he have not heard it? She called his name a third time, shouting it as she banged her palm on the door, the sound echoing around her. As the cacophony faded though, she was met with only silence. Shit! This had been a stupid idea. A very, very stupid idea. ‘Let’s go check out the abandoned haunted attraction on old man Miller’s farm’ , Michael had said. ‘ My dad’ll take us, even chill in the truck outside in case anybody else comes around’ , he...

*****As I have stated before, any stories I attempt to have publish, but do not succeeded in doing, will end up here. This is a two part series where I was to tell the same story from two different perspectives--making them, in the end, two different but intertwined stories. The first is titled - "It All Ended With A Bang" It all ended with a bang. But it had started with a boom. When his tiny apartment had rattled so hard he could hear it—as well as feel it—over the music blaring in his headphones, he had wheeled back from the multiple monitors at his desktop and had shuffled curiously to the large window in his studio apartment. There, squaring off like combatants in an arena, was a patrol officer and some shaggy haired guy on the street below. The lights from the officer’s motorcycle flickered off of his building and the neighboring one across the street in a shutter effect, making the two men move as if they were in slow motion—each punch, kick and shove illu...

     It was the way the wind blew in that told her something was wrong.      Lying there in her bed, the cats asleep in their various play boxes on the floor, the tv casting a soft light--its screen saver slowly bouncing around, the summer air pushed violently through her opened window--past heavy curtains--and rushed along her exposed skin--the force of it whistling in the still of night.      Her breath hitched and her skin prickled with goosebumps, the atmosphere around her suddenly charged with foreboding. Ears straining in the darkness, heart thumping hard between her breastbone and the mattress beneath, she listened to the trees rustling outside--garbage cans clanging against their restraints--not a single car passing down the streets.      She felt isolated and hyper aware.      This was the kind of moment one expected a rapping to occur on their door--having never heard someone, or some...