Little Linda chapter1

Setting: San Francisco, California- the city of fog.
Date: 11/2/1987 - 11/3/2011

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fog hung thickly this day in san fran, generally, that would slow the bustle of the city. This day in san fran, however, people were in a rush, bumping into each other like blind mice.
Like vermin.

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he looks at the pictures, then at the sloppy mess he made trying to fix the negative. A short, stout man smoking a cigar exhales a puff of smoke, blasting in the mans face like some half exhausted, half dead dragon tried to breathe fire on him, but ended up sending a foul smelling puff of smoke his way. The smoke hung on the ceiling, mixing with the fog that drifted in from the open basement window. The whole place smelled like cigar now. The little room was too crowded, so the smell hung in the air as if it were reluctant to leave.
The stout man sighs a puff of smoke before beginning to mumble. The other man puts the pictures in a bath filled with what he believes are the right chemicals.

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He has been going to and from this alleyway several times before. He only walks through here when he is holding a job downtown. His boots trudge silently past me today, not even aware…
Blind…

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He walked out the door, making sure to get the last word in before slamming the door. He storms away, even though he knew what he did wrong, countless times. He squirms around the people who don't seem to have the decency to move out of his way, or even acknowledge the fact that he was there. He eases through an alley. He trips and falls on a mixture of glass and broken concrete, cutting up his hands and side. He curses as he gets up, sucking on the wound, half enjoying, half despising it's iron taste. He walks through the alley and curves around a corner, blending again with the people in the street.

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The monotonous click clack of urban footsteps frustrates me. Yelling, car horns, all of it. They choose not to think anything could happen to them at any time. It only takes one short moment before a bullet could tear through their skull. But no, they walk, blind vermin, walking to wherever they want to…
They truly are such trivial things…

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The bar was where the man went. Drinking all the exotic alcohol he could drink with his last paycheck. The skin and bone bartender slid the check under his last drink, a large glass of imported japanese sake. The sake was held within a glass mug that had the company name etched on it, "kosuko", which was commonly mispronounced by americans. The bar used beverages from small businesses, so maybe he could move to japan and get a job there. First, he needed a job to pay for the trip, and the housing, and necessities. By that time, the whole thing would be redundant. He reaches to grab his wallet and write a check for several hundred dollars, should his handwriting be legible enough.

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I'm starting to get really bored…

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the man rushes back to grab his coat, rushing through the foggy alleyway. Glass crunches under his boots as he makes the sharp turn around the brick wall, isolating the children's playground like the Berlin Wall.

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this city is so boring…

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The shop was locked, but he could be arrested for not paying. Then again, he could be arrested for breaking and entering. His coat lay inside on the coat rack. He rang the doorbell impatiently.

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the only real good thing about this place is the fog.

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he wasn't home… just his luck… he runs around back and climbs up the fire escape to the floor above. After all, he needed his wallet.

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and that's where the damage can start.

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He grabs his coat and feels the weight of his wallet inside. He exits at the same place he came in and runs back to the bar, right as he sees red and blue lights carried over by the fog.

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he's late… he should be here…

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The crash was huge. Several mangy cars got almost pretzeled together in a sorta web of metal. Pedestrians were sandwiched between cars in a horrible way. There was no getting around this huge wall of metal…

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Sigh… I guess I'll play ball… too bad…

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he ran back. That was enough to call it a day, for sure. The glass in the alleyway crunched under his boots as he ran past. He turned several turns back to his apartment and sighed.
Life sucked.

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He was turned down almost everywhere he went, but his charisma and personality grew in acting. Though he was mainly in low budget films, locals still recall the sets and his role as the happy-go-lucky guy who helps a child out of a tree, who then murders him.
Things like that don't happen ln real life though… sadly…

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his life was fair. He washed dishes instead of reusing paper ones. He watched TV instead of play with carpet lint. Life was good. He'd all but just forgotten about the wreck. It made headlines for weeks, then people lost interest and forgot about it. Even the mayor, who didn't even try to control traffic, forgot. He pours himself a glass of instant coffee and adds sugar, no cream. The coffee woke him up with a bitter tang, but calmed him with a sweet after-taste. He turned on the news. The picture was blurry, and the audio wasn't great, but still, the fiery haired anchorman was still understandable with his thick Boston/Chicago accent. With another sip of his coffee, he put down the remote and started his daily routine. News, town, and if he was called in, to the movie set.

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I've watched him for years. I know him like a book i've read over and over and over again. I know that today, they're filming downtown. He will walk through the alley today. I'm certain he'll see me. Today is just right.

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the weather was perfect today. Nice and sunny, but semi relaxing with a thin, tourist attracting layer of fog. The group thought so too, and it seems he was called downtown. He walks around the coffee shop and the old, closed up building and enters the bustling downtown area. He walks over towards the set and ducks under the caution tape. They picked a good place this time, he thought the old, mangy hotel was a great place to shoot. The side cast shook their head. The idea of sleeping on a cold, hard mattress didn't appeal to them, nor did waking up in the middle of the night to see a killer snapping turtle in their room. The director showed the man his part. He would be the drop-dead-stoned hotel employee who tries to smother the turtle with a pillow. After it bites of his finger, he would run to the boiler room with the chines janitor and cook the poor turtle. This man had a sick sense of humor, but thankfully, deep pockets, otherwise half the people wouldn't have agreed to do what they were doing. Alas, he was no exception. The small young woman directing the snapping turtle look frightened of the thing as it looked at her with a dull, beady eyed gaze. She jumped back and poked it with a stick. Today was going to be a long day.

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I'm starting to get impatient. He finally got out of the set after ten hours, but he's walking as fast as that damn turtle. I just need to be patient a little longer… sigh…

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He walks home sober, though more than a bit tired from acting his part several times in a row. He walks though the alley and pauses. His neck started to cramp badly. He clutches his neck and keeps it still until the pain fades. He rolls his neck. Loud popping sounds emerge and he sighs.
Wait, which way was he going? He looks around. The alley looked the same on all sides and he couldn't find his way. He sits down, brushing away the litter around him with his hands. He leans against the wall and picks up a piece of a beer bottle. Already, just by the color and curve, he could tell the brand name. That was a bad thing. He drops the glass down and listens to the clink sound it makes. He rolls his neck and stands up. He turns around and takes a step in what he believes to be the right direction.…

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Are humans really this blind?

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Before yelling and falling over, cutting his hand on the glass piece he dropped earlier. There stood a young girl, about nine or ten. She wore a small wedding dress, but the veil was to thick to see her face. Her skin was a sickly white and her hair was jet black. She had a teddy bear in her hands and what looked like a friendship bracelet on her arm. She swings the teddy bear back and forth. The bear seems to sway to that rhythm like a noodle rather than a toy. The girl looks up... Or down.... He couldn't tell. She wasn't saying anything, so he decided to make conversation.
"Mister, you have a cut on your hand." just as he was going to say something, the girl grabs some stuffing out of the bear and puts it on his hand. He takes it, only because he finds it rude to refuse. The girl stands still, so he collects himself from the confusion and speaks.
"Thank you young mam. Appreciate it. May l ask you one question though? Why are you w-" he was cut off by the girl.
"your from Tennessee, although you were born in New Zealand and you spent the first few years of your life in Pennsylvania." as if to confuse him more, she continues. "Your accent gives that away. The smell of your coat is clearly of wine and alcohol, but you don't drink because you want to party or your addicted, your depressed. Nothing seems to bother you, which is why you worked for the director, because no one else will. You have lost several jobs and several woman and attempted suicide once, but you were scared and you figured you could do more with your life. Thats what I came here to talk to you about. First off, whats your name?"
The man just stood awestruck as his whole life was narrated by a scary looking young girl. All he could think to say was answer.
"Isaac Lambert? You don't look like a Lambert.... You hated your family, so you adopted another last name. Try again." what the hell was with this girl? He sighs and replies truthfully this time.
"You look more like a Conway." she stops. It was finally his turn to speak, wasn't it.
"What the hell is going on here?" he sighs as he says that. His turn was over once again.
"thats what l came to talk to you about you idiot. If you couldn't already guess, I'm dead. Hence the veil and the glue colored skin. I was killed by a twenty something year old woman with black hair just like mine and an engagement ring on her hand. Hence the dress and the hair. I was just a young girl then, hence the bear and bracelet. She lives in east Tennessee. If you go, your life will have meaning, wont it? I could be alive if you kill her. She is likely to kill others too. You could help several people." her voice changes into one of a young girl doing the cute "l'm your daughter, give me what l want" trick. "Please Isaac, your all I've got. Tell me you'll do it please."

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How could he let this happen to him? He was on a train, traveling east, first to Las Vegas, first few stops in Pasadena, bullhead city, and Henderson, to talk to a friend of his. Two seats on both sides of him were empty, he supposed, because the dead girl didn't count. She was coloring now, removing his sense of her ever having a demanding attitude. The train ride was pretty awkward, but he'd have to deal with it for a few hundred miles. The fog seemed to fallow them for miles, though it was getting thinner. He put his cap on his face and dozed off.

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~End of chapter 1~

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Hurt(depression)

Hurt,
The only feeling that matters,
The only thing that separates the weak from the strong,
What can you do when there is nothing left?
Nothing there to help?
I have lost.
The battle between good and evil,
The war against life and death,
Death is the victor once again.
I look at the faces of those who pass by,
I see nothing but the drab dullness of there daily lives,
The emptiness that fills their souls.
Nobody would help,
For the ones close to me have abandoned me, the friends I once had have turned away from me.
The only help would come from a stranger,
Not because of friendliness no,
But from pity.
For not a man on the earth would help me.
It is not in the nature of man afterall,
It is in their nature that they try to avoid other's problems.
For they feel that they have enough of their own.
They fear that If they truly try to help they would be tied to the other's problems,
Being faced with a greater weight to carry.
It is not sympathy that causes people to ask,
But pity.
For all humanity had grown to think that they could always help.
It is pity, that causes the crowd to gather,
It is pity, commiseration, ruth.
Not sympathy,
But mercy.
For god hath no mercy.
God smites the weak and has forsaken me,
Abandoned me,
He does not have mercy,
He aims his greatest blows carefully and knocks me down,
Piece by piece as I fall away I feel once more,
Once more the agonizing pain as god hath foresaken me and left me to Satan,
And the almighty Lucifer drags me down farther.
He also hath no pathos,
For it is a human trait,
The feeling of pity is weak and makes me vulnerable.
It makes the person in front of me
Look as if it required a gift,
As if the only thing it needed was help.
But that is what catches me,
I am that person,
This is a reflection of myself.
This deformed shape before me,
It is my soul,
It has been shaped into something horrific,
Something without promise,
Something without purpose.
Tell me,
What does one have to look forward to when everything has gone?
What does one need to live when the only person who would help is a total stranger?
Tell me.
Tell me...

Hidden

Swifter then death, Slower then honey, We can find you in us all. You play with us, twist us, rip out are hearts, And that is before you even start. Little games, cruel games, mind games, You play with us all, poking and priding trying to Make us fall. Your evil, a demon, a shadow in the night. You are a emotion, a thing, a shadow, a scorn. Ripping and twisting until I am torn. No bullet can harm you, no drug can take you, Nothing can harm you but you are easily defeated. You hide under are beds. Haunt are dreams. You are in the faces of those we love. Playing your little puppet games from everywhere But up above. You're our greatest enemy because you can't be seen, But you are felt by all including me. You know the hearts of every man, woman and child, And you use it to your advantage, heartless and wild. Everyone knows you, The brave, the weak, the heartless, the bold. You find your way in and wreak a havoc never truly told. Do you know who I am? Have you guessed yet? I'll give you some hints. I am the monster under your bed, I am the heart you think will break, I am the shark outside your cage, I am the mugger down the street. Some people find me for fun, Some people turn on their heel and run. I have one last hint, just for you. Your greatest fear is also me too.

Good morning!

It heats,
As the rising sun increases in size
And takes,
Takes the darkness away as it greets the world that opens up beneath it.

When the moon,
The moon disappears from the sky and grips the stars as they are whisked away.

And it wakes,
The creatures who greet the daylight and go about their daily lives.

They greet eachother and say again the same old words,
Singing, the same old song.

Poetry Slam Poem

I destroy homes
I tear families apart
I take away children
And that's just a start

I'm more valued than diamonds
More precious than gold
The sorrow I bring is a sight to behold

If you need me remember I'm easily found
I live all around you
In school and in town
I live with the rich, I live with the poor
I live just down the street and maybe next door

I'm made in a lab but not one like you think
I can be made under the kitchen sink
In your child's closet and out in the woods
If this scares you to death then it certainly should

I have many names
But there is one you'll know best
I'm sure you've heard of me
My name's crystal meth

My power is awesome
Try me you'll see but if you do you may never break free
Try me once and I might let you go
But try me twice and I'll own your soul

When I posses you, you'll steal and you'll lie
You'll do what you have to just to get high
The crimes you'll commit for my narcotic charms
Will be worth the pleasures you'll feel in my arms

You'll lie to your mother
You'll steal from your dad
When you see their tears you must feel sad
Just forget your morals and how you were raised
I'll be your conscious, I'll teach you my ways

I take kids from their parents, I take parents from kids
I turn people from god, I separate friends
I'll take every thing from you
Your looks and your pride
I'll be with you always, right by your side

You'll give up every thing, your family, your home
Your money, your true friend
Then you'll be alone
I'll take and I'll take till you have no more to give
When I'm finished you'll be lucky to live

If you try me, be warned, this is not a game
If I'm given the chance I'll drive you insane
I'll ravage your body, I'll control your mind
I'll own you completely, your soul will be mine

The nightmares I'll give you when you're lying in bed
The voices you'll hear from inside you're head
The sweats, the shakes, and the visions you'll see
I want you to know these gifts are from me

But then it's too late And you'll know in your heart
That you are now mine and we shall not part
You'll regret you tried me, they always do
But you came to me not I to you

You knew this would happen, many times you've been told
But YOU challenged my power
YOU chose to be bold
You could have said no and then walked away
If you could live that day over what would you say?

My power is awesome, as I told you before
I can take your life and make it so dim and sore
I'll be your master and you'll be my slave
I'll even be with you when you go to your grave

Now that you've met me, what will you do?
Will you try me or not? It's all up to you
I can show you more misery than words can tell
Come, take my hand
Let me lead you to Hell.

Let's go on a ride.

I walk my own path
That strays from original
It grants perspective.

I say what I say
There is no taking it back
Thine words are your own.

The message shown here
Is to all, everlasting
And to me, a glimpse.

A sign of the past
And the future in one piece
Written, on this page.

You want a fun ride?
Some rides go fast, some go slow
Well, come on and ride.

I saw you today
You took my breath away
At a loss for words.

I saw you again
I said you were beautiful
We talked through the night.

You leave me happy
All the sweet moments we meet
You turn frowns to smiles.

My heart burns with love
And I've been yours all along
And you, have been mine.

You left me today
I'm lost in a sea of tears
No refuge in sight.

I saw you again
You were so special to me
We used to be friends.

Save Me

A shadow of my former self, I float through on the breeze. My heart is not my own, It is dead inside me. I have walked the vally of the shadows, Yet a shade of my previous soul. I am cold and bitter, Alone in my darkness. No light can find me, Yet no chain can bind me, I only bind myself. My heart is for all and none, But none shall keep it for me, So I rot inside and slowly die with a loveless heart inside me. Someone, someone, take my heart, Before it dies with me. For a dead heart is not worth keeping. Save me from my despair, Fill me with your love, Take my heart and make it your own. Make me whole and keep me safe, for if my heart is with you I shall never be alone. I'll give you my key if you will hold mine for me, Holding yours also as you hold me. So save me, love me, give me your all. Save me from the dark before I have nothing at all.

Dear autocorrect

Accidental indentations
Fuck autocorrect
Why do I bother with you ?
It changes my mind,
Makes me say what I'm not.
Why should I bother with you?
But
Fixing my mistakes.
When they aren't even mistakes?
Why don't I just turn you off?
Dear Autocorrect,
Go die in a hole,
My typing can live without you.
And yet I am thankful,
You do exist.
Because
You corrected half the words in this.

Fractures of myself

Fractures of my personality
Shattered into fragments
Drifting through the wind
And getting snared in branches
People see these pieces
Assume that's all I am
But I'm not
Fractured into pieces
I try to
Let it slide
But no longer
I am no longer whole
But fractures tend to heal
But not completely
So here I am, my shattered self.
Pieces of my personality,
Drifting on the wind.
Let me be,
But know
This is not all I am.
This is not all
I will be.

Empty

Empty is the hollowness of my heart, Oh how lonely winds tear it apart. No warmth touches it's dark and empty recesses.  Dark feelings block out the light. Coldness grips my darkend seas, roaring tides wash away my happy dreams. No sound except my crying soul, oh, how it can moan. Wash away, wash away, wash away the darkness. For it smothers me like an overgrowing forest. Only light can fade away the dark, And I even know how to start. Twisted jokes and cruel games, Yet I know I'm to blame. It evades, it alludes. Why do you have to be my only light, When you are also my darknes too? Far away, far away, far away I find you. Turns out you are also leaving your own darkness behind you.

Poetry Slam Contest

Announcing a temporary Poetry Slam
Here on Bloggy!

So comment and at the end we will crown the Victor!!

Beauty in Nature.(a poem inspired by fellow writers)(and a sneak peak at The Note Pad)

The trees are bare,
They grow all year long and build,
Build an arsenal of beauty to show the world,
Of colors and shapes that not only define the landscape,
But define the hearts and minds of those who witness it,
Those lucky enough to witness such beauty,
Some do not see its relevance,
But I do.
I see the beauty in all things.
Like the one tear drop,
On the face of innocence.
Like the single strand of hair,
Falling through the air.
Like the calm gust of air,
On a hot sunny day.
And the colors on the branches,
Of the hard working tree.

A Poem

Cold, Cold is a heart turned to blackened stone, Cold is the mind lost and wandering, Cold is the skin of one left untouched, Cold is the wind on your face as you run, run from it all, Cold are you and me, Lonely, Lonely is the sound of a single heart beating, Lonely is the sight of a single tear falling, Lonely is a hurt we all feel coming, Lonely are you and me. Dark,  Dark is a night when no one is coming, Dark is a night when everyone is running, Dark is a fight when your only chance is loosing, Dark is in you and me.

You think you know me?

You think you know me,
But you see what I show,
I show my happy,
My solid outer structure that says that I'm not affected,
You think I'm happy,
Always happy,
Like I know no hurt,
No pain.
But what you don't see,
What you don't see is the constant battle,
A pitched battle between me and me.
In which one side is always the true victor,
Even if it doesn't show.
You think I'm always happy?
I have news then,
I'm not.
The constant agony that burns within me is no doubt the victor.
I apologize for things because its always my fault,
For my thoughts have been broken,
And no amount of adhesive would help.
I have become a shade of myself,
Nothing more,
I have let not only myself down but everyone else.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

Parasites

Parasites--the nastiest things ever. Long stringy worms, small white pin worms, spaghetti strings and such. I hate them. I seriously do. And I seriously loathe it that just about everyone has them.

I had a dream, and as usual, it was as if I had done some mushrooms before going to sleep. I found myself camping out in the woods with my family when I got a strange call on my phone. It was the federal parasitic research team and apparently I was one of the biohazard leaders. It seemed as though a brain worm had gotten out into the fish population. We packed up our things and left for home.

Home was like my own home, except there was a steel room with research filled file cabinets and safes for cures. And the room that led to the laboratory was hidden in the middle of the living room. It led down to a dark places with tons of fish and specimen we had already caught. We had been observing them for some time. I had found a cure for the worm but they were spreading so fast. Breeding amount fish went from normal to booming, just like guppies on steroids. My husband's fish, named HaHa, had bred well over 136 fish one day, 297 the next. I had put in a computer service that monitored the breeding numbers. Each fish that bred made more, making more of this "zombie parasite." Now you know why this worm was particularly scary.

The worm would infect the host and turn it into a zombie, spreading and breeding more bodies to infect. Once we destroyed the worms in the fish, I would pack away the dead worm specimen in jars like all doctors would do for research and crap. But here's where it gets weird.

A worm had jumped from its regular host into a spider unknowingly and drove the spider to haul ass away from me. I had to make the call, the one we had been fearing; that the worm was switching hosts. Soon, I locked the laboratory down and left all infected down in the well guarded rooms.

That night, I woke up, making sure everything was locked and closed. Sure enough, the front door, and research room, we're unlocked and slightly pried. The living room light was on as well.

"Someone's in the house!"

I grabbed my husband's gun as he went to grab his rifle, but I beat him to the culprits. I found a 7 year old boy, looking pale and sick, hiding in the corner beside the front door. I grabbed his arm and said, "You'll be contaminated, get outside and get in your car." His eyes seemed to get big, but a simple nod and he bolted out the door.

I turned upon the research room, where 3 adults were snooping for information and had been sent as terrorists to find the worms. A well dressed black man came out with a gun, said "oh shit!" and tried to attack. But before he could bring his gun up, I had shot him between the eyes. A woman, caucasian and dressed in spy wear, came at me full force. She shot me several times, but I had to shoot the bitch at least 30 times before she fell. It was as if she had already contracted the worm and was forgetting pain; a zombie of sorts.

The last man was Italian, darkly tanned. He came out, hands up. "Who are you?" My response was small, "I'm the biohazard leader on this project."

And then he left in a hurry. They had not found the laboratory, thank god. But I believed thoroughly the worms had made it to the public already.

And then...

I woke up.