Can you taste the air? The thick wetness of humidity as it enters you mouth and nostrils?

The fog was hanging quite low tonight, and she knew that she shouldn't have been taking the back roads home. But the unsolicited advances of drunken frat boys were not the way that she wanted to spend the rest of the evening.

There was something eerie in the air. Almost as if the predators of the night were out. Watching and waiting. Looking from inside the fog, waiting to taste her soft flesh between the maw of their jaws. There was nothing particular in which to place the feeling, it was just there. Hanging in the back of her subconscious.

What was that?

There was a howl.

Not like the howl of a wolf at the moon. But the howl of a creature whose body throbbed for the taste of blood. The kind of creature, whose express purpose was to eat you from the inside out. Taste you soft woman flesh in it's teeth. Paw, gropingly at your female form.

It made her quicken her pace. She didn't want to look alarmed, but her body pushed her move faster. Yes, she knew that animals could sense fear and they fed on it. She didn't want seem alarmed, but the pit in her stomach was not helping her control her body movements.

There it was again.

That screech.

She stopped. She did not know why, but she stopped. Right there along the side of the gravel road, no more than a mile from home. She stared up at the sky. A treetop seemed to reach out with it's twisted hand and hold the full moon inside of it. Clouds, thin wispy clouds, seemed to pass around the full moon. Almost as if evil itself resided inside this planetary body.

Have you ever gotten that really disturbing feeling that you just really need to turn around, but the fear of what you mind thinks you might find keeps you from doing it? She felt that. But she shook it off as if it were her own superstition . . . until she heard a snort.  She felt something wet on her shoulder. Sticky and sloppy like semen. She wanted to turn, but couldn't. She wanted to run, but couldn't.

Have you ever know fear? No I don't mean scared, but fear. Deathly moral fear? The kind that makes you think God doesn't give a fuck. That he has some kind of sadistic pleasure in seeing the ghastly torture of humans. That is why he puts such creatures on the planet. He enjoys seeing the scared little mice run from the big rabid cat. Yes, fear.

She felt a wet, hairy, clawed hand find it's way around her neck. It twisted her around to face the fear that she didn't want to face. And what fear it was. It horrific face, caked with dried blood, and human remains, dangling from it's teeth. It pawed at her with it's other "hand". A kind of groping feel, like a blind man would do searching for the identity of a object of person. It ran it's claws through her hair, almost affectionately, but more perversely.

There was no power in her voice. It was like when you dream and you call out but nothing comes out of your mouth. She felt it, it feeded off of it. It poked and prodded at her like a child would a new toy, just to see what it would do. It played and touched, finding out how it's new toy moved and reacted. Once bored with this, it lowered her onto her to the ground. She did not know how, but her body reacted immediately, and she began to run. Run ohh so hard. But it mattered not, the chase was on.

I can feel the pulsing blood in my veins.  My prey tries to run, but she does not yet realize that I will taste the sweetness of her flesh against the palette of my mouth.  But the chase makes it all that more satisfying.  Yes her sweet succulent flesh will yet be mine.  So I must not allow her to feel she is doomed.  I will let her taste a small amount of victory before I cleave her throat from her neck.  Yes, she will taste so good.

She looked back and could see that she was putting some distance between herself and this wicked creature.  But she was so scared, so fearful that she did not realize that she was just deluded.  She would not see tomorrow.

Damn!  She makes it all the better.  From 100 yards away I can still smell the sweet running over her body.  I can almost taste it.  Maybe I should lick her sweat from her skin.  I think that it would make her all the more fulfilling.  Yes, I can imagine her fear pulsating from her body as I lick her naked, sweaty body from head to toe.  I think that would be very fun.  Yes, just to hear her scream.

It seemed as though her life was in front of her, just yards in front of her, and she desperately ran to catch up with it.  Knowing that if she didn't, this creature would be the one to steal it from her.  And when he did, he decaying, dried carcass would be left to rot on the side of the road, interesting neither man nor God.

It picked up it's pace, closing quickly the distance between it and her.  It's blood now boiled in it's veins.  It felt on fire . . .

She would not get far, I will have her.  Have her like she were my own.  She will thank me, she will thank me and praise me for delivering her from such a wretched existence.  She will beg me to plunge my claws into her soft flesh.  She will ask for more as I lick the blood from her broken neck.  Yes she will thank me, again and again.

She felt a numbness come over her body.  Once the initial bite punchered her neck, she almost felt a nirvana.  There was no feeling left in her.  Before her eyes faded, she could see the faint light of her porch light, trying to illuminate the darkness of the night.  She let her eyes close, thankful that this was all she felt.

 

Something that has come to my attention, although not through my own searching, but through someone else. Now I don't have a girl of my own, I have two sons. But what I had seen and heard was quite disturbing. It makes me wonder what has society come to that we would dress girls as young as 7 years old in t-shirts such as these . . .

"Future Pornstar"

"Give Me Something To Scream About"

"Don't Call Me A Cowgirl Until You've Seen Me Ride"

or these . . .

After someone had told me about such things that, majorly are supported by Abercrombie & Fitch, I did some searching to find images and information on the subject. On one particular board "Guns and Game" a member there described such shirts for girls, along with the thong underwear for girls (by Abercrombie & Fitch) as "pedophile bait" and "pimping your daughter". Has it truly come to this in society that we dangle our children, girls and boys, out there for all the predators there are. Besides that it demeans both the child and the parent. A girl of such a young age, should not even know the word "pornstar", much less it's meaning and aspiring to be one.

Everyday children disappear, are violated, by both strangers and family, and we wonder why? Is this any clue as to why? I think it is. I would find it offensive beyond compare if I ever found my girl (if I had one) wearing such slutty cloths. It is bad enough that every other retailer is trying to "pimp" our young girls earlier and earlier, turning them into nothing but meat for sexual predators and hormonal men.

Does this excuse such offenders? Of course not. But why give them reason. Would you jump into a pit of rattlesnakes, then when bitten to death, wonder why it happened? I think that we would all have the common sense not to do something so stupid.

So why is it that we can't realize that with the clothes that we dress our young girls in? With all that is going on in the world some people may think that this is just a small thing, but is it? Is there anything more important than the safety of our children?

There are things that you can learn from other cultures. Whether that be foreign countries, or just different cultural groups within this country itself. Oklahoma is quite different from St. Louis Missouri, where I grew up. And so since living here in Oklahoma, I have learned some valuable lessons . . .

1) Brown gravy is not the only gravy there is. Here in OK, they use some kind of weird white gravy that they put on such things as biscuits, eggs, and chicken fried steak (which isn't chicken at all, but steak meat with a "chicken-like" breading on it).

2) People eat some form of bread with every meal, from breakfast to midnight snack.

3) Chewing tobacco and snuff isn't just for hicks. I know this because I dip snuff and I am not a hick.

4) While an Oklahoman may use tobacco products they feel that it is there reverent duty to point out that alcohol is bad for you. This I found out in line at a convenience store. The man behind me proceeded to tell me that out of the blue, without prior conversation, that alcohol was bad for me. Then as I was leaving the self-righteous SOB bought Newport cigarettes. Yeah, alcohol is bad for you.

5) Football is not a sport, it is a religion.

5a) You are either a OU fan or an OSU fan. If you are neither than you are a Texan.

6) Oklahomans bake stuffing. I mean not like with the turkey. They put stuffing in a casserole dish and just bake it, eating it like cornbread or something.

7) Oklahomans love fried okra.

8) You know your an Oklahoman if you have had an oilfield drilling rig on your property at one time in your life.

9) The only worse thing you can call an Oklahoman other than an being atheist, is being a Texan.

10) Apparently aliens do not abduct Oklahomans. As even alien beings don't want to be preached to about being saved.

And that is all I have to say. My words of wisdom, or warnings if you ever decide to move to Oklahoma.

Holla Miss Valkyrie!

May U Live 2 See The Dawn

The camera pans the cocktail glass,
behind a blind of plastic plants;

A reminder that the sound of music and the power of words awakens the mind's eye to imagine just exactly where you want to be.  Panning to a man sitting in a dark corner of a bar.  Smoke hangs in the air, like a poison cloud of fog.  He sits there, holding tightly his whiskey.  There is a pool table in the middle of the bar, but no one is playing.  The cigarette smokes, especially hangs around the light hanging above the pool table.

I found the lady with the fat diamond ring.
then you know I can't remember a damn thing.
I think it's one of those de ja vu things,
or a dream that's tryin' to tell me something.

Memory is only what we allow it to be.  If we don't want to remember something then we simply put it out of our mind's eye and pretend that it never happened.  But then something comes along that may reminds us of it.  And although we have fought valiantly to try and forget it, block it, there it is.  So we have a inkling that we have "been there, done that" and that is what the French call de ja vu. 

Dreams are a particularly disturbing reminder of what really is in our heads.  The things that excite us and entice us, yet things that we would never act on.  Disturbing yet erotic.  We all have them, so I am sure all of us know what I mean.

 

Or will I ever stop thinkin' about it.
I don't know, I doubt it.
Subterranean by design,

Sometimes the thing that we hate most we cannot forget.  Cannot remember what it is we want to.  The dark cloud of our denial has clouded even the memories that we wish to cherish.  I doubt that will change any more than a person wants to change themselves.  Set deep in our minds, like a subterranean thought.

I wonder what I would find if I met you,
let my eyes caress you,
until I meet the thought of Missess Princess Who?
Often wonder what makes her work.
I guess I'll leave that question to the experts,
assuming that there are some out there.
they're probably alone, solitaire.

I wondered what I would find when I met her.  Traveled 600 miles to get there.  Would she be all that I expected her to be?  Would I to her?  I thought that after seven years I wouldn't have to wonder what makes her work.  But just as winding and intricate, a snowflake, such is the soul of a woman.  There are no experts.  The ones that claim that they know, no matter their intention, are simply making guesses.  The human mind was not at all meant to be understood, and so therefore, and many of the things in the universe, from God, to the amoeba.

I can remember when I caught up
with a pastime intimate friend.
She said, "Bet you're probably gonna say I look lovely,
but you probably don't think nothin' of me."
She was right, though, I can't lie.
She's just one of those corners in my mind,
and I just put her right back with the rest.
That's the way it goes, I guess.

I ran across, a gal, at one point, that I guess I could call a pastime intimate friend.  Although for me engaging in thing much less than sex is intimate.  I think I thought that she was the one.  All else matter little, even my evangelistic parents and their campaigning of her.  Mattered not to me, I would have loved her for the rest of eternity and that would have been an understatement.  I saw her again at work, after we had went our separate ways.  I flinched.  She was still so beautiful, I was so scared. 

I think she knew that I was going to tell her she looked lovely, she was.  But it isn't all about what was on the outside as I was about to find out.  She had found another man.  Yeah, from what I could tell a sugar daddy.  I guess the thrill of dating a white man didn't last all that long.  I didn't think much of it.  I had heard that I was just the flavor of the month, from a trusted friend.  That was after we had went our ways, that he told me that.  A good friend just trying to spare my feelings.  I knew I shouldn't have bought him that Canadian Mist.  The truth hurts like a mother-fucker.  And that went right to my heart.  It's black and cold now.

Baby you send me
Set adrift on memory bliss of you

And every time and again, I remember her.

Careless whisper from a careless man,
a neutron dance for a neutron fan;
marionette strings are dangerous things,
I thought of all the trouble they bring.
An eye for an eye, a spy for a spy,
rubber bands expand in a frustrating sigh.

I have been known to whisper careless things.  But such is the way of man.  And many times I wonder if that will ever change.  Probably not.  Feeling like a puppet on the strings of the puppeteer.  Strange that I don't know exactly who the puppeteer is.  God?  Naw, I don't really think he cares enough to pull my strings.  But the trouble that such thoughts bring is indeed disturbing.  Thinking that someday, I will be proven right or wrong, and whichever way it goes, if I saved the souls of my children, my damnation means little.  I have not to worry of my beautiful wife, as she has a heart so full of soul that I think she could save Dubyah's sorry ass.  And so the rubber bands expand.  And the harder I pull on each end the closer they get to snapping.  Definitely a frustrating sigh.  And when they snap, it always comes back to slap you in the face.

Tell me that she's not dreaming.
She's got an ace in the hole,
it doesn't have meaning.

Was she dreaming when she met me?  Was there something that she saw in me, that I didn't even see myself.  Accepting me and all my many faults.  To the point that she didn't acknowledge them.  Was that for mine or her benefit?  Her ace in the hole is that she has hope and love in her heart.  She has something offer when that time comes.  Yes, she is an angel, and only letter away from an angel.  That is what I told her, after asking to see her in her birthday suit.  But that ace doesn't mean anything to me.  I can't hold that ace, the best that I have is a club and I think it is a seven of.  That ace helps her everyday, and benefits our children everyday.  Yes, the warlock is not the ideal father, but the angel that watches over the children and the warlock, constitutes no need for a divine source.  She is my source.

Reality used to be a friend of mine,
'cause complete control, I don't take too kind.
Christina Applegate, you gotta put me on.
Guess who's piece of the cake is Jack gone?

I had a grasp on reality at one time.  One time.  Then something just bitch-slapped me in the face.  I think it WAS reality.  Families crumble, religions fail, and in the rubble is a warlock with no future, no love.  And so the bottle is taken out of the cupboard and in it is put all the fears and sorrow of the warlock.  Tightly the lid is put back on.  Never to be "popped".  And then some jackass stole my cake and I'm left with nothing but a dip of snuff and a few drinks of the 1.99 vodka half-pint I bought with the change in the car and couch cushions.

She broke her wishbone and wished for a sign.
I told her whispers in my heart were fine.
what did she think she could do?
I feel for her, I really do.

I think that when she broke her wishbone and wished for something she didn't get what she wished for.  I know that if I wished for something at the bigger end of a wishbone, I would have gotten the angel that I did.  She whispers to me, in my heart, my mind, and my . . . . never mind.  What she thinks she can do, she can do.  She has a determination and faith that will raise her above all else.  I feel for her, because I can't feel what she feels.  There is something that she has that I will never have.  What that is, that haven't invented a word for.  But what it is, is something that I don't have, and something that she contributes to life.

And I stared at the ring finger on her hand,
I wanted her to be a big PM Dawn fan,
but I had to put her right back with the rest.
That's the way it goes, I guess.

That is the way it goes, and far too often.  I wanted her to be a big Prince fan, but alas she thinks that Janis Joplin is a good singer.  Don't judge her, she at least knows that Bob Dylan can't sing his ass out of a well.  I put her back with the rest; the rest of the people that have reached out to touch my soul and found nothing.  Nothing but void.  I dunno.  Why couldn't she be a PM Dawn fan.

At any rate, I know that because of who she is, she  will . . .

Live 2 See The Dawn

 

Baby you send me... Set adrift on memory bliss of you

And every time and again, I remember her.

I finally got to watch Silent Hill last night after having got it from Netflicks and sitting for about 3 weeks now. Such is the circumstances, when I want to watch a movie like this with children in the house. So I finally stayed up late enough last night to finish it, after the boys were asleep. I thought it was a real good movie, and really enjoyed some of the elements that they took from the first Silent Hill game on Playstation. There were moments in the movie that were eerily close to parts of the game, especially environment and the "feel" of the game.

Silent Hill, the game, is one of the true gems of horror games, that in my opinion, still hasn't been duplicated. And believe me, with 3 sequels to the original game, and many other copy-cat games, there were plenty of attempts. The movie however is much different in the game (at least the original, I haven't played any of the sequels) as far as the characters and the story progression.

But it still did definitely have that eerie "feel" that the game had. So close that, actually it wasn't scary sometimes. I mean there were elements so close to the game, that I actually knew what to expect. But once the movie really started to progress, it shifted far from the original game. But it was still very good and very frightening. Most of the worst parts of movie were actually what the supposedly "normal" people were doing, not the "demons". Without giving away the movie, in case haven't seen it, and would like to, I would say that the explanation for what has happened to the town and why, is something like The Grudge (Ju-on). However much more graphic and gory. I mean it wasn't all the time, it wasn't like there was not story just a bunch of blood splattering around, like Hostile. No, they did good using the effects to frighten you, not try to gross you out.

All in all, a very excellent movie, way more than what I expected it to be. Being a gamer and a comic book geek, has it's disadvantages when movie based on games and comic characters come out. Between my knowing the characters and my OCD, I usually spend most of the time talking out loud about how they did something wrong in the movie. But not this one, despite the differences from the game, it was still true to the game, if that makes sense.

Anyway, lunch is over and it is time to get back to work.

Here's a trailer to watch . . .