Saturday, March 20, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Sorry guys!!
I just got into the swing of things again at school and so I am slacking on the posts.. I promise you that tomorrow you will get days 5,6,7, and 8.. So get ready to read ALOT. I have the stories pretty much done.. I just need to find time to post them.. No one ever said I had to post them on time lol.. I just have to write them!
-Cameron
-Cameron
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Day 4 Has Your Face Been on a Milk Carton Lately?
The clock struck three. There it was three AM. It was going to happen. Any second now.
There it was! There was a laugh that seemed to come out of nowhere yet everywhere. What was that? Luther was tired of staying put and being afraid. Tonight was the night that he was going to find out what was causing him to lose sleep, and he was going to give whatever it was a piece of his mind!
Luther swung his feet over the edge of his bed; making sure that his feet landed smugly in his fleece slippers. He had preset the flashlight for this very moment. Whatever was going on was soon going to meet Luther, the Lightbringer.
He tiptoed his way up to his door and placed his ear to the cold wood. He was sure to keep his feet out of view from anything that might be looking under the door. He stayed in this position for around a full minute. When he was sure that nothing was waiting for him he turned the doorknob. He stayed there for what seemed like a hundred breaths trying to get the courage to turn the knob. The knob seemed to turn itself and the door was soon open.
There in front of Luther stood nothing. There was a subtle emptiness that filled the area that Luther could have sworn would have been filled with the nastiest ghoulie he could have imagined.
Luther stuck his head out his door and traced each direction of the hall with his flashlight. His sister's room would be the first place to check. Each foot step seemed to take twenty years to take, but then thought started to propel Luther forward. What if this creature of the night had already made a move on his sister just despite him. To punish him for his cowardice. It was not long before he finished his way down the hallway in long strides. The door to his sister's room was wide open. He was too late. Luther bounded into the room only to find the nightlight on and his sister's bed empty. There were signs of a struggle. The top blanket was thrown to the side and one of the two pillows on the bed were half way off the bed. He had been too late.
He looked all around for the direction in which to pursue his sibling's captor. The window was still bolted from the inside, the closet did not show any signs of a secret passage being opened, and despite all his attempts he could not get the door to the world of monsters under the bed to open.
There was suddenly the harsh sound of metal on wood and a torrent of water being sucked down a small opening very quickly. Luther bounded toward the hall way his flashlight in hand. He was going to see an end to whatever evil was approaching.
Any second now it would show it's ugly face. The demon would pay for messing with his family!
The door to the bathroom opened up.
Luther jumped into action; he pounced forward swinging his flashlight wildly.
"Ah! What are you doing you like dweeb! You almost knocked me in the face with that thing!"
It was his sister, and she was perfectly alright.
"Why are you staring at me like that? Sometimes I swear I am not related to you."
The door to his sister's room was soon being slammed.
Now that he knew his sister was okay, and still a stupid-head; it was time to find that laugh.
Luther made his way down the opposite direction of the hallway. The living room lay before him. Its dark corners perfect places for a demonic being to lay in waiting for unsuspecting little boys.
Luther's flashlight uncovered the mystery and he soon found it safe to make his way to the kitchen.
The kitchen light was on. So this was it.. This was the defining moment in Luther's young life. He placed the flashlight in his pants and rolled up the sleeves to his Spongebob Squarepants pajamas. This was it!
He ran around the corner screaming his battle cry.
"Woah sport! Hush! Ha, are you trying to wake the neighborhood? Heh, yeah buddy. I am just watching my stand up comedy shows, sport. Your mom hates the stuff so your old man has to sneak out and watch it in the kitchen. Well look at you. You look like you have been on quite the little adventure. You want a glass a milk before you go back to bed? Okay, well I'll come tuck you in."
Luther was soon snug in his bed. The mystery had been answered and he could get some sleep, beside tomorrow was Friday. Everyone knows you get free ice cream at lunch on Fridays.
No more laugh and no more fear.
The closet door swung open and off it's hinges.
It seems that faces on the side of milk cartons just don't bring your little boy back these days.
-Cameron Kilby
There it was! There was a laugh that seemed to come out of nowhere yet everywhere. What was that? Luther was tired of staying put and being afraid. Tonight was the night that he was going to find out what was causing him to lose sleep, and he was going to give whatever it was a piece of his mind!
Luther swung his feet over the edge of his bed; making sure that his feet landed smugly in his fleece slippers. He had preset the flashlight for this very moment. Whatever was going on was soon going to meet Luther, the Lightbringer.
He tiptoed his way up to his door and placed his ear to the cold wood. He was sure to keep his feet out of view from anything that might be looking under the door. He stayed in this position for around a full minute. When he was sure that nothing was waiting for him he turned the doorknob. He stayed there for what seemed like a hundred breaths trying to get the courage to turn the knob. The knob seemed to turn itself and the door was soon open.
There in front of Luther stood nothing. There was a subtle emptiness that filled the area that Luther could have sworn would have been filled with the nastiest ghoulie he could have imagined.
Luther stuck his head out his door and traced each direction of the hall with his flashlight. His sister's room would be the first place to check. Each foot step seemed to take twenty years to take, but then thought started to propel Luther forward. What if this creature of the night had already made a move on his sister just despite him. To punish him for his cowardice. It was not long before he finished his way down the hallway in long strides. The door to his sister's room was wide open. He was too late. Luther bounded into the room only to find the nightlight on and his sister's bed empty. There were signs of a struggle. The top blanket was thrown to the side and one of the two pillows on the bed were half way off the bed. He had been too late.
He looked all around for the direction in which to pursue his sibling's captor. The window was still bolted from the inside, the closet did not show any signs of a secret passage being opened, and despite all his attempts he could not get the door to the world of monsters under the bed to open.
There was suddenly the harsh sound of metal on wood and a torrent of water being sucked down a small opening very quickly. Luther bounded toward the hall way his flashlight in hand. He was going to see an end to whatever evil was approaching.
Any second now it would show it's ugly face. The demon would pay for messing with his family!
The door to the bathroom opened up.
Luther jumped into action; he pounced forward swinging his flashlight wildly.
"Ah! What are you doing you like dweeb! You almost knocked me in the face with that thing!"
It was his sister, and she was perfectly alright.
"Why are you staring at me like that? Sometimes I swear I am not related to you."
The door to his sister's room was soon being slammed.
Now that he knew his sister was okay, and still a stupid-head; it was time to find that laugh.
Luther made his way down the opposite direction of the hallway. The living room lay before him. Its dark corners perfect places for a demonic being to lay in waiting for unsuspecting little boys.
Luther's flashlight uncovered the mystery and he soon found it safe to make his way to the kitchen.
The kitchen light was on. So this was it.. This was the defining moment in Luther's young life. He placed the flashlight in his pants and rolled up the sleeves to his Spongebob Squarepants pajamas. This was it!
He ran around the corner screaming his battle cry.
"Woah sport! Hush! Ha, are you trying to wake the neighborhood? Heh, yeah buddy. I am just watching my stand up comedy shows, sport. Your mom hates the stuff so your old man has to sneak out and watch it in the kitchen. Well look at you. You look like you have been on quite the little adventure. You want a glass a milk before you go back to bed? Okay, well I'll come tuck you in."
Luther was soon snug in his bed. The mystery had been answered and he could get some sleep, beside tomorrow was Friday. Everyone knows you get free ice cream at lunch on Fridays.
No more laugh and no more fear.
The closet door swung open and off it's hinges.
It seems that faces on the side of milk cartons just don't bring your little boy back these days.
-Cameron Kilby
Friday, March 12, 2010
Day 3 Sir Mug's Apprentice
"You want me to break into a prison?"
"My friend, Lastat. I am sure you, the thief of the Faith's Ruby-Emerald, the one who stole Queen Gladeral's knickers, the very man who tricked the moon into coming out in the middle of the day, the same person who..."
"I have got it, Volgrim. Your flattery only goes so far. The point is that you want me to break into a prison. Do you understand that every person in there, prisoners too, would love to give my head to the King?"
"Which is why I know you will get the job done better then anyone else in the entire length of Holonaise."
"You are sure the reward is Ten Thousand gold pieces?"
"Have I ever lied to you before, Lastat? You are like... brother to Volgrim."
The man they called Lastat shuffled uncomfortably. Ten thousand gold pieces would allow him to stop being a thief. He could settle somewhere nice and maybe even take a wife and have children. He could buy his own estate in the mountains of the backbone of the globe.
The thief tightened the leather bracer on his left arm until the laces were taunt, "I assume you have a map?"
"Yes... as a matter of fact..", the obese man reached into his grease covered tunic and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "It is all yours, my... brother." The fat man smiled gleefully as the thief took the map from his hands. "I will see you at sundown in the park." With that the fat man gave a laugh as he saluted and walked out of the back room of Mug's Tavern.
This was the biggest job in all of Lastat's career. He was to break into the citadel prison; all for a pocket watch. One simple watch. What in all of the six divines could be so important about this pocket watch that he had to break into the citadel prison? The thought of the bath of gold he would take soon pushed all of these hesitating thoughts from his head. The black leather clad man soon found himself following the fat man's foot steps and into the filth that was Mug's Tavern. As soon as the wooden door closed behind him he was assaulted by a slew of tavern wenches all looking to bed and steal from any man they could lay eyes on. He paid none of them attention and made his way to the entrance of the cesspool.
The mid-day air was cool and refreshing after stepping out of what seemed like the sixth circle of the abyss. He had at most a few hours to finish the job. Sundown was close. Lastat set off in the direction of the prison; weaving through the throng of common folk making their last errands of the day light and finding where exactly they were to lay their heads. Lastat loved and hated every single one of them. He loved them for not turning him in, and he hated them for all of their admiration. Lastat did not want his life.
The traffic of the market had cost him a good hour. He was not expecting such life this late in the winter season. The citadel prison loomed before him like a puzzle waiting to make anyone that tried it get up from the table in frustration with no mindset whatsoever to return to work on it. Lastat over ever had a map of all the secret entrances and exits.
Lastat took out the crumple paper from the pocket of his cloak. He smiled as he unfolded it. The smile soon vanish as he realized he had been given a map alright, but the map was of the city of Holodaise. The prison was circled with a crude smiling face drawn beside it. The words "Good Luck" were written in the margin. Lastat made a mental note to give one of his many hidden daggers a new home in the gut of the fat Volgrim. Lastat was going to have to do this the old fashioned way.
It did not take him long at all to find the servant entrance. This was going to be easier than he thought. He made his way through the servant entrance pretending to be burdened by some heavy object hidden within his cloak. The guard posted at the entrance did not even give him a second look. It seemed that the guard even smiled at him. Why would the guard be wearing a smile when he worked the dirtiest and lowest paid entrance to the citadel?
No matter; Lastat only had an hour to complete his job. The servant entrance lead to the kitchen, which Lastat soon found lead to the main hall of the entire citadel. From here he could make his way to any cell block simply by turning down its corresponding labeled hallway. He knew this only because he had broken out once when he first started his career as thief / assassin. They had greatly augmented the security since then.
Lastat made his way down the correct cell block. There were no guards whatsoever as far as he could see. If he wanted he could have even come out of the many shadows and walked freely down the halls. It seemed that he could have whistled a merry tune and skipped for all those that would try to stop him from reaching his goal.
He found the correct cell. There was a man in the corner crying.
"Darius. I know you know why I am here."
"Lastat!? Is that really you? You can't.. Please.. Don't. Whatever they told you.. It is not worth the world."
"I am about to be a very wealthy man, Darius. I would like for this to go the easy way.. Seeing as you and your family were so kind to me all those years ago."
"Lastat... This is far beyond anything that you can comprehend. Why do you think I got caught on purpose?"
"You always were a bad assassin, Darius."
"I killed my employer and then turned myself in."
"I don't care about your conscience. I just want the watch."
"I can't do that. This artifact could destroy you."
"You seem to be just fine, old friend."
"I am living in fear. The only reason that the guards themselves don't kill me is because of the investigation that would go into it. You have been framed. If I die tonight you will be blamed and the investigation will not happen. Why investigate a murder when you already know who is doing the killing? Who cares about motive when you have a confession? There are those that want this item, but could never have it if the King found out about it, and the King cannot have it! Oh the things he would do... It must stay here with me. I am its keeper and it can fall into no hands but my own... You see this cell is the safest place for me. No guard or noble can touch me without there being a reason why. The king would find out about it... And you... Can't..." Tears, well renewed, streamed down the grown man's face.
Lastat was losing his patience. "Give me the watch, please."
"I can't do that."
"I tried, Darius." Lastat picked the lock of the cell door with one hand and punched it open with the other. He drew a poison tipped dagger and pointed it at the prisoner. "Are you still going to resist? You know this poison does not kill quickly. You designed it for me."
"Lastat... No. This watch is not what you think it is. It controls time!"
"Oh, Darius. All watches are the keepers of time. I was hoping this would end better." Lastat slipped the very tip of the dagger into Darius's chin. The poison soon took effect shooting through his bloodstream and closing off his vocal chords. No sound came out of the gaping prisoner's mouth. His veins turned a dark color and protruded out of the skin as his collapsed twitching on the cold stone floor, a look of immense pain on his face. "A pity. To think I used to look up to you."
Lastat soon found the watch clutched in the hand of his old friend. Had the thought of ten thousand gold really lead him this far? He pushed the thought of how he had hated Darius for all the years he had been his thief apprentice. He took the watch and walked to the cell door; looking back at the body on last time before making his way back out into the shadows. He found no resistance as he made his way out the way he had come in.
The sun was about to crest upon the hills in the distance. Lastat was not used to being a late delivery boy. He made his way swiftly to the park in the center of the town plaza.
When he arrived his was surprised not to see the fat Volgrim waiting for him. In fact there was only one man. A man of nobility, for he was dressed in such the fashion.
"Ah, you must be Lastat! I know you have done well. Here, I do not even need to see the watch to know it will soon be mine." The man threw a bulging bag of coins to the thief's feet. "I hope you don't mind, I had to get the gold in Platinum pieces. Gold is awfully heavy." The man gave a chuckle.
"Well yes, I have it. I was not expecting to meet the employer of my employer."
"Little surprises happen everyday. "
Lastat walked forward and gave the man the watch. "Here I want nothing to do with this trinket."
He turned to collect his newly found fortune.
"Lastat, you miss the point. This is no mere trinket. It is an artifact of great power. One that controls time and space at once. Mass, life, validity; all at once."
The thief turned to the man. He was pointing the face of the pocket watch at Lastat. It was glowing a bright purple. "You see. If I wanted to... I could erase all of time that has to do with you. Your fifth birthday, the first time you rode a horse, hell I could erase when you popped out of that bitch mother of yours!"
"What are you..?" Lastat could not speak anymore. His entire life was flashing before him on the ground. The watch was acting as an image projector of sorts.
"Oh, I thought you should know. I am not going to let you die. Good night, theif prince."
"Lastat! Get that ale to table two!"
"Yes, sir, Sir Mug. You got it."
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
"My friend, Lastat. I am sure you, the thief of the Faith's Ruby-Emerald, the one who stole Queen Gladeral's knickers, the very man who tricked the moon into coming out in the middle of the day, the same person who..."
"I have got it, Volgrim. Your flattery only goes so far. The point is that you want me to break into a prison. Do you understand that every person in there, prisoners too, would love to give my head to the King?"
"Which is why I know you will get the job done better then anyone else in the entire length of Holonaise."
"You are sure the reward is Ten Thousand gold pieces?"
"Have I ever lied to you before, Lastat? You are like... brother to Volgrim."
The man they called Lastat shuffled uncomfortably. Ten thousand gold pieces would allow him to stop being a thief. He could settle somewhere nice and maybe even take a wife and have children. He could buy his own estate in the mountains of the backbone of the globe.
The thief tightened the leather bracer on his left arm until the laces were taunt, "I assume you have a map?"
"Yes... as a matter of fact..", the obese man reached into his grease covered tunic and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "It is all yours, my... brother." The fat man smiled gleefully as the thief took the map from his hands. "I will see you at sundown in the park." With that the fat man gave a laugh as he saluted and walked out of the back room of Mug's Tavern.
This was the biggest job in all of Lastat's career. He was to break into the citadel prison; all for a pocket watch. One simple watch. What in all of the six divines could be so important about this pocket watch that he had to break into the citadel prison? The thought of the bath of gold he would take soon pushed all of these hesitating thoughts from his head. The black leather clad man soon found himself following the fat man's foot steps and into the filth that was Mug's Tavern. As soon as the wooden door closed behind him he was assaulted by a slew of tavern wenches all looking to bed and steal from any man they could lay eyes on. He paid none of them attention and made his way to the entrance of the cesspool.
The mid-day air was cool and refreshing after stepping out of what seemed like the sixth circle of the abyss. He had at most a few hours to finish the job. Sundown was close. Lastat set off in the direction of the prison; weaving through the throng of common folk making their last errands of the day light and finding where exactly they were to lay their heads. Lastat loved and hated every single one of them. He loved them for not turning him in, and he hated them for all of their admiration. Lastat did not want his life.
The traffic of the market had cost him a good hour. He was not expecting such life this late in the winter season. The citadel prison loomed before him like a puzzle waiting to make anyone that tried it get up from the table in frustration with no mindset whatsoever to return to work on it. Lastat over ever had a map of all the secret entrances and exits.
Lastat took out the crumple paper from the pocket of his cloak. He smiled as he unfolded it. The smile soon vanish as he realized he had been given a map alright, but the map was of the city of Holodaise. The prison was circled with a crude smiling face drawn beside it. The words "Good Luck" were written in the margin. Lastat made a mental note to give one of his many hidden daggers a new home in the gut of the fat Volgrim. Lastat was going to have to do this the old fashioned way.
It did not take him long at all to find the servant entrance. This was going to be easier than he thought. He made his way through the servant entrance pretending to be burdened by some heavy object hidden within his cloak. The guard posted at the entrance did not even give him a second look. It seemed that the guard even smiled at him. Why would the guard be wearing a smile when he worked the dirtiest and lowest paid entrance to the citadel?
No matter; Lastat only had an hour to complete his job. The servant entrance lead to the kitchen, which Lastat soon found lead to the main hall of the entire citadel. From here he could make his way to any cell block simply by turning down its corresponding labeled hallway. He knew this only because he had broken out once when he first started his career as thief / assassin. They had greatly augmented the security since then.
Lastat made his way down the correct cell block. There were no guards whatsoever as far as he could see. If he wanted he could have even come out of the many shadows and walked freely down the halls. It seemed that he could have whistled a merry tune and skipped for all those that would try to stop him from reaching his goal.
He found the correct cell. There was a man in the corner crying.
"Darius. I know you know why I am here."
"Lastat!? Is that really you? You can't.. Please.. Don't. Whatever they told you.. It is not worth the world."
"I am about to be a very wealthy man, Darius. I would like for this to go the easy way.. Seeing as you and your family were so kind to me all those years ago."
"Lastat... This is far beyond anything that you can comprehend. Why do you think I got caught on purpose?"
"You always were a bad assassin, Darius."
"I killed my employer and then turned myself in."
"I don't care about your conscience. I just want the watch."
"I can't do that. This artifact could destroy you."
"You seem to be just fine, old friend."
"I am living in fear. The only reason that the guards themselves don't kill me is because of the investigation that would go into it. You have been framed. If I die tonight you will be blamed and the investigation will not happen. Why investigate a murder when you already know who is doing the killing? Who cares about motive when you have a confession? There are those that want this item, but could never have it if the King found out about it, and the King cannot have it! Oh the things he would do... It must stay here with me. I am its keeper and it can fall into no hands but my own... You see this cell is the safest place for me. No guard or noble can touch me without there being a reason why. The king would find out about it... And you... Can't..." Tears, well renewed, streamed down the grown man's face.
Lastat was losing his patience. "Give me the watch, please."
"I can't do that."
"I tried, Darius." Lastat picked the lock of the cell door with one hand and punched it open with the other. He drew a poison tipped dagger and pointed it at the prisoner. "Are you still going to resist? You know this poison does not kill quickly. You designed it for me."
"Lastat... No. This watch is not what you think it is. It controls time!"
"Oh, Darius. All watches are the keepers of time. I was hoping this would end better." Lastat slipped the very tip of the dagger into Darius's chin. The poison soon took effect shooting through his bloodstream and closing off his vocal chords. No sound came out of the gaping prisoner's mouth. His veins turned a dark color and protruded out of the skin as his collapsed twitching on the cold stone floor, a look of immense pain on his face. "A pity. To think I used to look up to you."
Lastat soon found the watch clutched in the hand of his old friend. Had the thought of ten thousand gold really lead him this far? He pushed the thought of how he had hated Darius for all the years he had been his thief apprentice. He took the watch and walked to the cell door; looking back at the body on last time before making his way back out into the shadows. He found no resistance as he made his way out the way he had come in.
The sun was about to crest upon the hills in the distance. Lastat was not used to being a late delivery boy. He made his way swiftly to the park in the center of the town plaza.
When he arrived his was surprised not to see the fat Volgrim waiting for him. In fact there was only one man. A man of nobility, for he was dressed in such the fashion.
"Ah, you must be Lastat! I know you have done well. Here, I do not even need to see the watch to know it will soon be mine." The man threw a bulging bag of coins to the thief's feet. "I hope you don't mind, I had to get the gold in Platinum pieces. Gold is awfully heavy." The man gave a chuckle.
"Well yes, I have it. I was not expecting to meet the employer of my employer."
"Little surprises happen everyday. "
Lastat walked forward and gave the man the watch. "Here I want nothing to do with this trinket."
He turned to collect his newly found fortune.
"Lastat, you miss the point. This is no mere trinket. It is an artifact of great power. One that controls time and space at once. Mass, life, validity; all at once."
The thief turned to the man. He was pointing the face of the pocket watch at Lastat. It was glowing a bright purple. "You see. If I wanted to... I could erase all of time that has to do with you. Your fifth birthday, the first time you rode a horse, hell I could erase when you popped out of that bitch mother of yours!"
"What are you..?" Lastat could not speak anymore. His entire life was flashing before him on the ground. The watch was acting as an image projector of sorts.
"Oh, I thought you should know. I am not going to let you die. Good night, theif prince."
"Lastat! Get that ale to table two!"
"Yes, sir, Sir Mug. You got it."
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Day 2 Conchusca, pull the plug
"There is that moment when everything that you have ever learned, within the time you have walked on the earth, comes together in one defining moment that makes sense of everything. In that moment you leave your learning vessel. In this moment you are released from your personal hell and are rewarded. You were placed on a road, and it was up to you to follow it. You will have been directed down other passages that promise to be short cuts or better ways, but this is not so. Only you and what is in yourself can know what that road is and where it leads.
As you set forth, my children, know that when the final moments come and some of you have been cast down to the darkness; I will shed no tears for you. I will feel no sympathy once I hear your screams of agony as the black flames lick upon your naked bodies. I will be saved, and you shall suffer, and for that I will be glad. Glad that I gave you the chance, and for that I am rewarded; whilest your own ignorance leaves you without hope. I will be none the wiser as..."
The scarlet robed figure suddenly stopped talking as the chime of bells could be heard echoing through the domed ceilings of the temple. No more words were spoken. The man simply set his hands fall beside himself and walked down the center asle of pews and out of the huge wooden double doors.
Talking and the hustling of bodies suddenly broke out within the halls. It was hard being a student of the faith. You had to get references from all of your past employers and teachers. You also had to make a certain sacrifice.
You can't know what that was. I can't tell you. I wish I could, but...
Anyway. Don't wake up yet. I know that you want to, but don't... Just keep your eyes closed for a little longer...
The young men and women found themselves funneling out of the open doors through all four walls of the temple.
You see that? Of course you don't see that, but don't open your eyes. Wait for it. Please just wait for it... Don't do it?
There was a scream. Not any common day scream. The blood curdling scream that fills your dreams to the brim with fright for months on end. The kind that you never forget.
Your faith is a lie.
Orwell's Big Brother was just the beginning.
You read most of this and thought you knew what you were reading.
You don't understand anything. You will never amount to anything.
Open your eyes now. Did you understand anything that you just read?
"Ah... I am sorry Ms. Conchusca. I have no idea what I just read."
"You are not trying, Alex. You have to read not only the words but the tone and characteristics of what the author was trying to get you to understand."
"Well I promise that I will have this essay written by Tuesday."
"You better. See you then Alex."
A scarlet robed figure walked into the office. "Conchusca, pull the plug."
As you set forth, my children, know that when the final moments come and some of you have been cast down to the darkness; I will shed no tears for you. I will feel no sympathy once I hear your screams of agony as the black flames lick upon your naked bodies. I will be saved, and you shall suffer, and for that I will be glad. Glad that I gave you the chance, and for that I am rewarded; whilest your own ignorance leaves you without hope. I will be none the wiser as..."
The scarlet robed figure suddenly stopped talking as the chime of bells could be heard echoing through the domed ceilings of the temple. No more words were spoken. The man simply set his hands fall beside himself and walked down the center asle of pews and out of the huge wooden double doors.
Talking and the hustling of bodies suddenly broke out within the halls. It was hard being a student of the faith. You had to get references from all of your past employers and teachers. You also had to make a certain sacrifice.
You can't know what that was. I can't tell you. I wish I could, but...
Anyway. Don't wake up yet. I know that you want to, but don't... Just keep your eyes closed for a little longer...
The young men and women found themselves funneling out of the open doors through all four walls of the temple.
You see that? Of course you don't see that, but don't open your eyes. Wait for it. Please just wait for it... Don't do it?
There was a scream. Not any common day scream. The blood curdling scream that fills your dreams to the brim with fright for months on end. The kind that you never forget.
Your faith is a lie.
Orwell's Big Brother was just the beginning.
You read most of this and thought you knew what you were reading.
You don't understand anything. You will never amount to anything.
Open your eyes now. Did you understand anything that you just read?
"Ah... I am sorry Ms. Conchusca. I have no idea what I just read."
"You are not trying, Alex. You have to read not only the words but the tone and characteristics of what the author was trying to get you to understand."
"Well I promise that I will have this essay written by Tuesday."
"You better. See you then Alex."
A scarlet robed figure walked into the office. "Conchusca, pull the plug."
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Day 1 "Welcome Back to Life Mr. Castro"
The sun was cold. That is right, the sun was cold. Why in all that made sense would the sun be cold? Oliver Castro knew not why the sun was cold; he only knew that this day in July it was. To make things even weirder; the leaves were the rich color of yellow and brown and falling from the trees. The wind whistled gaily as if nothing in the world was out of place.
Oliver had just been walking to the bus stop on his way to work. It was such a simple and innocent act that he barely paid any attention to it at all, but here he was; the sun cold, the leaves falling, and in the middle of the forest. That was it. One minute he was surrounded by concrete and that which was safe and man made. The world he had known his entire life on the streets of Palm Springs. The one that had made the most sense to him. Comfortable and comforting concrete was now replaced by this dark brooding cold-sunned forest.
Should he walk forward? Or maybe turn around and go back the way he came in hopes that he would find his shoes caresing warm asphalt again. How had crossing the street lead him here instead of the number 53 going downtown?
He slowly turned around only to find that the forest had in fact swallowed him whole. He was surrounded by this hideous, bright, tree infested, leaf covered, flower scented, wild life filled, and horribly open forest.
He started to cry. Why in the world would this twenty year old young man find tears coming to his eyes in such a place? The thought of his family was nowhere to be seen or heard. The horns of the cars around him were no longer hanging in the air. The bright light hanging above him...
Man made light? Was this forest a dream? A joke? Was he on camera? Oliver wiped the tears from his eyes. There was no way he was going to cry if he was on camera. He was twenty years old for the love of man. He wasn't about to lose it on national television.
He walked in the direction he was facing, because he really thought that it was as good as any.
Oliver walked for what seemed like ages. The sun started to go down and the forest seem to glow. The trucks of the trees acting as natural florescence. The sweet sounds of birds making their final calls to the day light before they turned in for the night. The chatter of squirrels as they counted and recounted the number of acorns they had hidden within their homes so that maybe later they would have enough for a nice midnight snack. Disgusted Oliver to his very core.
He called out for anyone. Anyone at all. The birds answered. He called out again. Again for anyone at all. The trees and their leaves answered. The quiet peace at which the forest laid to rest for the night answered. The sweet smell of some sort of honeysuckle answered. The soft feel of newly formed north-pointing moss answered.
He was terribly alone.
He chose not to eat, for there were too great a number of things that he had to choose from.
He sat down making sure not to touch any of the disgusting trees. How he wished for four walls or even a lamp post. Something that made sense to him...
There was a bright light directly above him and pain made its way up his body as if he was being fed into a wood chipper. There were tubes in his throat that burned horribly and the taste of blood was all his senses would allow. There were people so many people. Their plastics and metals all around him.
"He had opened his eyes!" Oliver heard someone call.
"We did it! Son welcome back. We thought we had lost you. Son, you got hit by a car and we haven't been able to get you up sense."
Oliver didn't really understand...
"Welcome back to life, Mr. Castro."
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
myspace.com/miloomilo
Oliver had just been walking to the bus stop on his way to work. It was such a simple and innocent act that he barely paid any attention to it at all, but here he was; the sun cold, the leaves falling, and in the middle of the forest. That was it. One minute he was surrounded by concrete and that which was safe and man made. The world he had known his entire life on the streets of Palm Springs. The one that had made the most sense to him. Comfortable and comforting concrete was now replaced by this dark brooding cold-sunned forest.
Should he walk forward? Or maybe turn around and go back the way he came in hopes that he would find his shoes caresing warm asphalt again. How had crossing the street lead him here instead of the number 53 going downtown?
He slowly turned around only to find that the forest had in fact swallowed him whole. He was surrounded by this hideous, bright, tree infested, leaf covered, flower scented, wild life filled, and horribly open forest.
He started to cry. Why in the world would this twenty year old young man find tears coming to his eyes in such a place? The thought of his family was nowhere to be seen or heard. The horns of the cars around him were no longer hanging in the air. The bright light hanging above him...
Man made light? Was this forest a dream? A joke? Was he on camera? Oliver wiped the tears from his eyes. There was no way he was going to cry if he was on camera. He was twenty years old for the love of man. He wasn't about to lose it on national television.
He walked in the direction he was facing, because he really thought that it was as good as any.
Oliver walked for what seemed like ages. The sun started to go down and the forest seem to glow. The trucks of the trees acting as natural florescence. The sweet sounds of birds making their final calls to the day light before they turned in for the night. The chatter of squirrels as they counted and recounted the number of acorns they had hidden within their homes so that maybe later they would have enough for a nice midnight snack. Disgusted Oliver to his very core.
He called out for anyone. Anyone at all. The birds answered. He called out again. Again for anyone at all. The trees and their leaves answered. The quiet peace at which the forest laid to rest for the night answered. The sweet smell of some sort of honeysuckle answered. The soft feel of newly formed north-pointing moss answered.
He was terribly alone.
He chose not to eat, for there were too great a number of things that he had to choose from.
He sat down making sure not to touch any of the disgusting trees. How he wished for four walls or even a lamp post. Something that made sense to him...
There was a bright light directly above him and pain made its way up his body as if he was being fed into a wood chipper. There were tubes in his throat that burned horribly and the taste of blood was all his senses would allow. There were people so many people. Their plastics and metals all around him.
"He had opened his eyes!" Oliver heard someone call.
"We did it! Son welcome back. We thought we had lost you. Son, you got hit by a car and we haven't been able to get you up sense."
Oliver didn't really understand...
"Welcome back to life, Mr. Castro."
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
myspace.com/miloomilo
The Beginning...
So here I am. My name is Michael Cameron Kilby I. Believe me there will not be a II. I am turning 19 on the 28th of this month. I am attending Cal State Fullerton and hating every second of it. I am without income and searching frantically for some source of which to pay the most basic of bills. I have only one friend who I am within distance of being able to hang out with whenever I need to. My girlfriend lives six hours away. As you can see I do not lead the happiest of existences.
Therefore, this project is to give me something to work towards. There are 365 days in a year, correct? Well on each of those 365 days; I will be writing and posting a short story. This is a personal challenge that I will see through to the end. So you, the reader -if there are any-, will receive 365 poorly written short stories from my very own original psyche. Feel free to comment on any of the posts and let me know what you think. I would not even mind if you decided to make a post about what the story made you feel or what you believe it to mean. Give me what you will...
"What we do in life, echos in eternity." -Maximus (Russell Crowe) "Gladiator"
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
myspace.com/miloomilo
Therefore, this project is to give me something to work towards. There are 365 days in a year, correct? Well on each of those 365 days; I will be writing and posting a short story. This is a personal challenge that I will see through to the end. So you, the reader -if there are any-, will receive 365 poorly written short stories from my very own original psyche. Feel free to comment on any of the posts and let me know what you think. I would not even mind if you decided to make a post about what the story made you feel or what you believe it to mean. Give me what you will...
"What we do in life, echos in eternity." -Maximus (Russell Crowe) "Gladiator"
-Cameron Kilby
cameron.kilby@yahoo.com
myspace.com/miloomilo
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