(Note: I’ve went back and edited some of the previous entries for reasons primarily regarding continuity. If you are reading this as it is released, you may notice some things that don’t exactly follow. Such is the issue with releasing a story in this way.)
A drop of blood adorned Teivel’s upper lip. It tasted sweet. He stood, gazing upon the mutilated guard. The body was motionless. He surveyed the area, looking for anybody that had taken notice.
His hands, now covered in blood, still clenched the small knife tightly. The tip had been chipped off, embedded in the skull of the man lying before him. Fog filled the air as he breathed heavily. The consequences of his actions set in.
The only out-of-the-way area was the latrines, two rows of tents down. The knife was now useless, and would be evidence if it was found on him. He stowed it inside one of the chest pockets of the guard. Hands shaking from the cold, he crouched down to grab the ankles so as to drag the body along.
His barely pubescent body fought against the weight of the larger man, heels digging into the dirt. He let out an exasperated breath with each step. The sun was just below the horizon, and others would be awake soon.
“Halt!” The harsh voice called out from behind him. He tensed up, the sound of a rifle bolt being pulled into place sent shivers up his spine. “Who are you, what do you think you are doing?” Heavy footsteps pounded into the dirt, approaching fast. Continue reading “Emergence”→
Hell to Pay, Chapter 3 (Warning: this is kinda graphic.)
The next night Teivel attempted to sleep. His body was cold and achy as he tried to force his eyes closed, rolling about on the cramped, damp bed roll. His mother, unable to sleep the same, held his head in her lap, while stroking his long, dark hair. He stirred, and she tried to funnel water into his mouth.
The next morning Tievel felt himself being stripped down and wiped with a damp cloth. There was a strange man there, talking to his mother.
“My son is sick, is there anything you can do?”
A warm, rough hand ran over his forehead. He attempted to pull back from the oppressive feeling heat. The man ran his hands down Teivel’s arm to the wound that was still wrapped in rags. Teivel felt the cold air hit the now throbbing wound. The man let out a small ‘hmm’ under his voice.
I hate to have two of these in a row, but if you watch the video, you’ll see that I’ve been busy.
In this video, I find myself in the car a lot, a beard magically appears on my face (I grew it myself) and we rock. Is rock the right term, or does that apply only to rock and roll? Because the concert I went to was for metal. Does that mean I should steel?
I thought a lot about that pun. It’s still a stretch.
You heard it here first (or second, if you came here from the video.) I am quitting my job in the grease pit deli. I am moving to France for three months with a program called Interexchange where I will be tutoring for a family that I am going to live with.
I want to keep making these vlogs because they are fun, and trying to make my life seem interesting is interesting in its own right.
Tievel went to the Rabbi. “Where does evil come from?” He asked. “Evil comes from humans. All humans commit sins, even from a young age, sometimes without even knowing it. However, God knows that no man is perfect, and their sins can be forgiven. Their sins and evil will be eventually separated from the goody by the passage into Gehennom.”
Evil. Teivel suddenly felt it within him. He felt the evil of those around him. However, if humans were also part good, that means that both parts were weaker than a pure embodiment of such a force.
The answer came to him in a mural within the synagogue. A war between angels and demons. The forces of good versus the forces of good and evil. If he wanted to be able to call upon such force, a pure spirit of the force had to be summoned. Continue reading “Six-Pointed”→
Teivel was marked. His marking was not like the others. Let’s begin long ago. Even as a child, he knew he was different, but he didn’t know why. “You’re special, dear,” His mother used to say. Her words comforted him when he came home, dejected that none of the other children would want to play with him. He had no obvious affliction, yet people were innately hesitant to approach him.
This stigma grew more and more until he reached adolescence. It was clear that he was not the same as his peers. He had once been found out back in the school yard; holding down a stray cat by its neck. Scratches ran up Teivel’s arm. “It had tried to bite me,” he said. A teacher was called, and they had him release it, and watch it run off into the bushes. Continue reading “Five-Pointed”→
It was another night at the store. This was during a particular long stretch where my manager decided not to change up my schedule at all, which was good for me. This meant I could make plans ahead of time, knowing that I would be able to keep them. This also meant that I would see her very little.
During the times when we had enough people and the assistant manager was there to do orders for her, she would take a few days away from the store. When she did show up, mostly when she needed to make contact with the higher-ups, she was there during the early hours of the day. I guess it gave her a chance to get food from the grill in the back.
When not hidden back in her office on the phone, she was up at the registers doling out a list of things for us to do and buying snacks and cigarettes. That’s actually how I was trained on the register, by having her rotate constantly back to my window to check something out using various methods. I think she even had me check her ID for her Marlboro Gold 100’s, which I discovered were her favorites.
It had been about two weeks since I had seen her in the store. The only contact with her was hearsay from the other employees. I was standing up at the register, most of the way through the night already. Everything was pretty much done, and my coworker was taking his lunch. That’s when a familiar sounding hacking come to my ears. Continue reading “See, Store Ep3: Raspy Voice of Reason”→
In the near dystopian future where Donald Trump becomes President, big changes are happening. For Sergio Simmons, a natural born American citizen, things go south when he is forcefully reconnected with his heritage, and is volunteered for a project some call “The Wall.” Who will end up paying? Take a wild guess.
Keep in mind that this was written in just one month, and most likely has some spelling, grammar, or other mistakes still hiding in there. I have gone back and tried to edit the best I can, but as far as this project goes, it was a one shot exercise for fun. Enjoy it for now before such the topic becomes irrelevant!
It was about two weeks ago I moved in. Foreclosures. For someone just moving into town following a job opportunity, it was great; and by that I mean the price. For being a first time buyer, it was fairly painless too. Foreclosures are sold by the bank, after all. Regular sellers are obnoxious and realtors are even worse.
There were a few pieces of furniture left over. The previous owner lost his job apparently, and couldn’t keep paying the mortgage. Poor sap. Well, his loss is my gain. I also didn’t have any furniture so I couldn’t complain, even if they are a little worse for wear. There was some other junk lying around that I had to clean up, but it’s a small price to pay.
I’m still sorting through it. So far all the living space is clear and I was able to move into the house properly. The last bit was down in the basement. It’s probably the biggest mess, and while it was out of the way, I wanted to get it sorted through. I can’t imagine the thought of rats or other things living down there.
At the back of the heap of things that were mostly broken, I found something built into the floor. It seemed like a hatch, and beside it was a small hole dug into the concrete leading downwards. It may have been a drain of some sort, if the cover had come off. Whatever it was, it was caked in dirt and other filth. I shined a light down it, but it just contained darkness for what I could see. Continue reading “Follow My Hand [WP]”→
It was another slow night. Like, really slow. There were generally three phases of the night. The evening, which was still daytime for normal people. We got the least amount of problems during this time because it was when normal people had stopped drinking and more… dedicated people had yet to begin. The end of this period is right before we stop selling alcohol, when people want to make last minute purchases, or fail to do so because they are too late.
The second stage is generally dead. No more alcohol, sorry.
The third stage is prime time for anyone who had maken the choice, whether voluntarily or not, to not make any contribution to society. Somehow, even they took days off too. This was one of those days. Continue reading “See, Store. Ep2: Snake Escape”→