disappearing

the poem is spoken,
but it wasn't there,
an ephemeral token,
devourered by air,

surly shadow claw,
our things unseen,
imagines toothy maw,
that had never been,

a ghostly kiss,
it's impression still felt,
a lingering bliss,
to make one melt,

when gone is gone,
the memory won't fade,
for king, rook or pawn,
the image unmade,

i in memory dwell,
of the hurt before,
before the a wishes hell,
for the longings score,

so then I'll see,
the ghost of that past,
disappearing in me,
a loving sprit to the last.

so why is it,
the joys dissolve,
when hurts re visit,
and always evolve,

but in it's painful embrace,
it's no wraiths we fear,
when we stared at it's face,
only to disappear.

this poem may be spoken,
yet do not despair,
from a dream you have woken,
and the pretty words repair.

fool's errand

FOOL’S ERRAND



By



Scott Ferrara









My Dearest Sister Vivian,





I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I miss you and mother terribly, but my time in the holy city has brought me great joy. I can feels God’s presence, like it was emanating from the very stones of Rome. I wish Lionel were here to read this letter. His loss in the air over Germany was a great shock. I’ve been thinking a lot about Lionel recently. As you know I am but a humble acolyte doing my translations from the Old Latin in the Vatican archives. I sought to escape thoughts of my little brother falling in flames from the sky. I also know that both mother and father do not approve of your upcoming marriage to that American flyer from Texas I believe he’s from. They have cut you off and out of their lives. Father is the hardest heart. He will not forgive you for marrying what he sees is below our station. But with Lionel gone, myself pledged to God, Our father loses any hope of a male heir. He put his hopes in you to at least continue the line with someone proper, and English.

I know this is painful, And please Dearest Sister, understand the language and the urgency of my letter. In my studies I have come across scores of ancient confession, transcripted from heretics dating back to the dark ages.

Mind you the confession itself was fragmentary, but it dates back to the times of Emperor Lucius which is most curious. Lucius was eager to expand his influence throughout the empire especially our Fair Isle. There he met resistance to his demands of tribute. By a war leader known as Artorius. The forces of the emperor were repulsed.

Years after a wandering bard was captured and tried for heresy. Rather than fight any charge he gleefully submitted himself to the trials and begged to be burned at the stake. With this as a frame I shall do a rough translation of the lost and fragmented document.



The Fragments



I wanted to make my confession simple and accurate, Although neither is likely and I can’t simply guarantee the veracity of the words you are about to hear. The truth comes difficult to a creature like me. The truth loses its charm only if it is spoke plainly. But I shall attempt to do so. I was a knight of the round table after all.



Merlin’s father was a demon of that there can be no doubt, his mother was a druid priestess and one wise in the old ways. Sometimes being one of the few who wasn’t taken in the end makes me doubt my convictions in a merciful God. Now as Gods go, I like Rome’s all it demands is some obedience and you are spared eternal hellfire. Obedience comes second only to truth as the most difficult virtue. All you must do is confess to whatever petty evils you have done and safe in the knowledge of Mute Gods forgiveness. Then you can stroll safe and secure from the cathedral knowing that the lighting that would have struck you otherwise. Had it not have been averted by a few choice words to a celibate go between. I feel that as methods of avoiding eternal pain go that one has its peculiar merits. I also prefer my gods mute.



My name for the scholars who will no doubt be translating this from the Latin is Dagonet. I was Arthur’s jester and keeper of the secrets of the descent. I sang, I danced but more importantly I had the ears of the Arthur’s court. Merlin made me from scraps of fallen knights and pieces of wandering bards that fell to brigands in secluded woods in Cornwall or Wales. When I say I was built I am not being hyperbolic. Nor am I being extravagant or metaphoric, as we wandering Minstrels tend to be. I have the face of a Cornish Knight, the legs of a Welsh peasant, the body of a monk, the arms of brigand, the ears of midwife and my tongue well…..

I say made because I was created for one single and unique purpose. My mouth was to be the sepulchre for a forked tongue. The tongue was a vile organ which belonged to Merlin’s father. Merlin knew it to be a dangerous thing. It was prone to tales of ribald knights and lurid ladies in waiting. It also held Merlin’s true name. He needed to imprison the tongue because that name was the last word it spoke. And if the winds heard that name Merlin would be at the mercy of all the other incubi. But I am of course ahead of myself.



I was created to play the fool, Knighted by Arthur on a whim, I was to be the target of ridicule from knights like Kay the dullard, Gawain the thick, and Lancelot the Lech.

Although I liked Lancelot. He was kind in his way. He would talk with a gentle condescension that comes from rivaling perfection and making it blush. Occasionally the other knights would clash steel with me. It was those times I felt like part of the Fellowship and I felt the uncomfortable seeds of virtue start to grow. Luckily Merlin knew how to keep those weeds from his garden.



Lancelot you see he was the problem and the fulcrum on which the whole kingdom hinged. For he was the master pawn in a war a war between Merlin and his sister Lady of the Lake. The two suckled at the bosoms of a human mother and as the twins matured startling differences arose between them. Both were gifted in the old ways, the ways of the earth, sun, moon, the sky, fire and the waters.



The Lady of the Lake had raised Lancelot to be the greatest knight ever. And she did a fine job with King Ban’s son. She raised him in the waters and trained him against knights of Shells. He learned courtly manners in a palace of sand and even I must admit he was a sheer pleasure to behold. Even if both my eyes came from separate beings. A fact that might explain my apparent madness. It also may explain current trial for heresy.



Merlin of course had the sight, occasionally coupled with wisdom. He knew that virtue is a curse unto itself since it can be undone by a very simple truth. Ideals are the easiest things to fall short of. And as strong as you are, as fast as you are, gossip is stronger and faster.



A lie can be a powerful thing if treated with respect and consistency. And hence my career at court was born. I was created during the time when Arthur and the knights were about to battle the holy Roman Emperor Lucius. Lucius challenged Arthur’s right to rule but would’ve settled for a tithe. As most despots do.



The real patriarch of Camelot was a demon bard named Talesin, whose name meant radiant brow. He was the father of our esteemed Merlin. Begot during a rite of the Goddess. Everyone ran about naked in those days during rituals. I’d often see Merlin whisk his mind back there when my reports on the gossip at court would get too lengthy. Which it often did. My tongue would spin a poem of knightly valor and honor as my ears would hear Sir Whoever buggering a kitchen wench.



It figures the one time I tell the truth. The truth is definitely the most confusing of the virtues. The truth has caused much more hurt than has been a salve in soothing painful words. I never won a joust or a duel but my words have pierced hearts and severed heads. The court was my jousting field and my field of honor. None of the knights, not even Lancelot could challenge me there. The knights with all their gleaming chain mail, sharp swords, and blunt maces were mere toys as they broke against my iron wit. Arthur knew this and kept me at court to teach the knights the often forgotten virtue of humility.



I ask forgiveness. Although, I don’t expect it. And the fire from which you will purge my heresy or is it hearsay I forget; regardless the fire shall acclimate me well to my place in the next world. What doomed the greatest most just and fair nation in the world. And obviously much more fair nation then Emperor Lucius’ Rome.



There were few in the castle, both Lancelot and Guienvever were away. Nimue entombed Merlin.



All the knights were questing for the grail. It was only Arthur, Kay, and myself in the castle.



Arthur was pensive, he had heard the gossip about his young wife and the handsome Lancelot but these were rumors and he as king was above them. I was summoned to his chamber. He was weary. Arthur was never weary then. The world had never weighed on him as it did that night. With a shrug I tumbled and sang and sung him the tale of his battle against the giants of Geen. He couldn’t raise a smile, and then I asked the question that would doom us all.



What troubles you my lord?



“ Fool . ” he said sadly “ I need no game and I need no song. And please kind sir no jest ”



“ What would you have me do sir? ” I replied cautiously.

“ Speak plainly ” He said his voice near a stammer.



“ As always, “ I replied, “ My Lord ”



“ Does my wife love me, Dagonet ”



“ We all love you my lord. ”



“ Not as a king, but as a man. ”



“ I would not know the contents of a persons heart, especially the queen’s.”



With that he drew Excaliber from its scabbard and with a stroke brought it to my neck.



“ Does she love me AS A MAN!” he screamed at me. His eyes mad with hurt and doubt and



jealousy.



I paused gauging my answer, then I spoke. “ You are a king, and as such you have no parallel on this world. But you are not your own. As a man in this world is his own. His own body, his own blood, only his soul to God.”

“ DOES SHE!” He lifted me off the ground. Tears streaming down his cheeks soaking his bearded. “ I feel like a man,” He shouted

“Yes ‘tis true.” I answered.



“ Hurt and bleed like a man”



“ Of that I can attest my Lord” I answered.



“ And I will die like a man.”



“ True my lord, but you are a king” He dropped me and I fell to the ground. “ No one can love you



as a man , My lord, because you are more than a man. You are chosen by God to be above these things.



Love, my king is the apple in the Garden of Eden; for a king to possess love is to know all and be cast



from paradise. ”



There was a silence between us, and with a gesture from his hand I turned to leave.



“ You know I envy you fool, to be loved as you are.”



“ Envy is a sin that doesn’t well suit a king.”



“ Neither is the love of his wife.” He said to me as the door slowly shut behind me.



Soon after his suspicions were realized and the kingdom decayed from the inside. Like an overripe apple in an untended orchard. The worm called Mordred had eaten to the core. And with that the Lady of the Lake won the contest with Merlin. And I shouted Merlin’s true name to the winds because I knew then all was lost.



End of Fragment



That my dear sister I hope would be of interest to you. And if even a fraction of it is true.



Love my dear sister is the most transcendent and miraculous thing we humans share. And we can



even pity kings who live without it.





Love Your Brother,



Roger

disappearing

the poem is spoken,
but it wasn't there,
an ephemeral token,
devourered by air,

surly shadow claw,
our things unseen,
imagines toothy maw,
that had never been,

a ghostly kiss,
it's impression still felt,
a lingering bliss,
to make one melt,

when gone is gone,
the memory won't fade,
for king, rook or pawn,
the image unmade,

i in memory dwell,
of the hurt before,
before the a wishes hell,
for the longings score,

so then I'll see,
the ghost of that past,
disappearing in me,
a loving sprit to the last.

so why is it,
the joys dissolve,
when hurts re visit,
and always evolve,

but in it's painful embrace,
it's no wraiths we fear,
when we stared at it's face,
only to disappear.

this poem may be spoken,
yet do not despair,
from a dream you have woken,
and the pretty words repair.

blood and sword

Blood and Sword

of all the battles I have faced,
So many will not know,
No drink the horror erased,..
and from the carnage grow,

So many indeed did fall,
relegated to once upon,
but when you hear comrades call,
the song of the dying swan,

too many brothers I have lost,
and so few have remained,
paying madly the swords bloody cost,
for all the precious ground we've gained,

many a oppoent I have fought,
to meet some noble goal,
it's from the softer enemies wrought,
those ones that take your soul.

beyond the binds of blood and bone,
men cannot choose his mothers,
yet with lengths of iron and will of stone,
we can , sure as hell, choose our brothers

wall - e

Wall E

It on the plane to Seoul-Incheon,
I watched this film again,
and on it's themes though upon
same now as then,

He does his job very well,
and of items strange collect,
to crush the refuse that fell,
and "Hello Dolly" oft inspect,

then she came gleaming white,
more modern and sleek and tone,
Hiding in dust from blaster bright,
At last he was not alone,

so say it's a silly robot love story,
and I think the opposite,
it's the broken hero of this glory,
remebering none survive without it

love

Love who would thought,
A word so small,
Best when un-sought,
Could say it all,

A single syllable,
Oft hard to rhyme,
Can be quite billable,
If it charges us for time,

The word itself is a kiss,
A taste of soul touching lip,
For that intoxicating bliss,
We hunger for a sip,

The past is lost,
The future not found,
But its nature defrost,
When present fire abound,

So ego revel and enjoy,
And to the burning stars remind,
To your best self employ,
And to delicate love be kind.

for Melissa

Her name in greek means bumblebee,
with all the buzzing about implying,
a taste freedom and of honey
is the joy she gets from flying,

as the tiny one about doth flit,
all bedecked in black n yellow fuzz,
that's the long and short of it,
and she flies .. well "bee-cuz."

in the time spent meadering,
she drifts to flower and hive,
spending no time pandering,
just a joy being alive,

so wanders the fey queen,
it's the journey that she'll see,
with no sting and wings unseen,
sometimes it's good to be a bee,

waiting for a baby boy - a request

fingers and toes both equal ten,
a healthy boy to celebrate,
my deep congrats to Jer and Jen,
soon you'll wish you were celibate

You spend your moments oft debating,
when time'll start and stop,
it's eternal seconds spent in waiting,
for your beloved's about to pop.

they say it is a gift of joy,
or has this poet mispoke,
as a greedy uncle I wait for this boy,
but will panic when her waters broke,

cries begin at first inhale,
and sadly and glady never cease,
for parenting duties will regale,
and say goodbye to restful peace.

all I wish is boy and mom be healthy,
the time will come when it comes,
for both parents and children are wealthy,
another Webb the world welcomes

a noir tale

“Drink’s on the table babe.” A good whiskey.
There were so many times I could have stopped it. Said no. Put an end to it. But she knew I loved the knife. Her skill in the cut and those eyes. I knew I was being manipulated. Deep in my soul. But then I would lose myself in her flesh and drive her crazy.
I knew the cuts would come. We both knew it was wrong. But we used the word love a lot for means of justification. She was in the shower. Her body had more curves than a python, she embraced just as fiercely like it was some kind of kill. She made love with a reckless abandoned and convulsed when the little death was on her. She could have any man she wanted. Curled raven locks feel to the small of her back. Her skin olive. That perfect skin when the races mix. . Her eyes which she often hid were a deep caramel. The kind of serpentine eyes that swallow you whole.
But I was dangerous. A killer. Damaged goods that could take the punishment of her departures. Her husband was rich. Abusive but rich. And the big house seemed to mitigate the pain. He was also cheating on her so he lost any moral credibility he would have had if he were an innocent victim of feminine deception.
I was hired by him to guard her. Protect her. Keep her safe from harm. The mist was rising out of the shower. She was clad only in the towel. She always hid her naked form from me. Shyly , almost coyly. She had her rules. But always wanted me to tell her I love her. She needed it in yells and whispers. The remaining wet clung to her. She wanted me to cut her. She took a long hard pull from the rocks glass.
“When…” She said with insistence.
“ Soon, luv, but you gotta get back to him.”
I inspected her for marks like in a slave auction. No bites. Nothing that can be questioned. She tried to kiss me.
“No..not yet.” I says.
“ When do you kill him?” She asked. The reptilian coldness coming through.
“ When we go to Nawlins. I got a crew down there. Simple. Easy. Just like the town.”
“You sure.”
I smiled my knowing smile. Now the time was right.
I brought her in for a kiss. She lingered. I was greedy. She was mine. But I knew deep inside she cheated on him. She’d cheat on me. Nature of the wildlife. She had never failed to get what she set those eyes on.
“ It’s an hour drive.” I says. “ Best get moving.” The cabin was secluded enough. And she been up here enough times to navigate in the dark. In the widening dark. My little viper went back out into the dark. Shedding her skin she went back to her safe life. She had her fill of danger for the evening.

That’s when it all went to hell.

I heard them. The men she hired. No sense of stealth.

Then men entered my cabin. Three of them. I keep knives always within hands. Reach. But that’s what I do. I’m a knivesman. Small area. And the idiots brought guns to a knife fight. Naked as I was I dove for my barong. Big heavy bladed fillipino knives which my guro mercilessly trained me on.
The twenty one foot rule is my commandment. To put it simply. If a person has a knife and is twenty one feet away from you and you have a gun. You can cover the distance in 1.5 seconds. I closed.
First idiot was easy. A conveininet shield. A quick cut across the back of his gun hand made it useless. Putting his body between me and the other two. Sidestep through and a cut across his femoral artery. He’d bleed out.
Idiot two started firing. Their boy took the brunt. But in the enclosed space of my cabin. Idiot three was frozen. I closed distance. Brought the blade up under his sternum and hand assisted down. The purplish gift of kali spilled on the floor.And in one continuous motion. Spun throwing the knife. Idiot three looked more surprised than hurt. As the blade stuck out of his neck.
I gathered the remains and made sure they’d be unidentifiable. An arduous task. The poison I put in her drink should be settling in. Damn treacherous those mountain roads.
Her husbands money would sooth whatever pain I felt.

a few pocket fights

Pocket Fight 1

Opponent A – Thrust to head
Opponent B – Mid section swipe. Tuck
Opponent A – Left side dodge
Opponent B – Thrust to Head
Opponent A – Thrust to Sternum
Opponent B - Thrust to Groin
Opponent A – Duck
Opponent B – thrust to Left shoulder
Opponent A – Cut to right shoulder
Opponent B - Thrust to groin
Opponent A – Cut to left shoulder
Opponent B – Thrust to head
Opponent A – Thrust to Groin
Opponent B – Thrust to left hip
Opponent A – Thrust to left shoulder
Opponent B – Thrust to right shoulder
Opponent A – Cut to Left Hip
Opponent B – Thrust to right hip
Opponent A – Cut to left shoulder
Opponent B – Jump
Opponent A – Thrust to right rib/ kill


Pocket Fight 2

Opponent A/B – D pattern exchange drill thrusts
Opponent A – Cut to Groin
Opponent B – Cut to Head
Opponent A – Thrust to Left Hip
Opponent B – Jump
Opponent A – Cut to Left Shoulder
Opponent B – Cut to Left Hip
Opponent A – Collar Bone Strike
Opponent B – Thrust to Right Rib
Opponent A – Femroal Artery Strike
Opponent B – Thrust to Head
Opponent A – Left Side Dodge/Left Side Dodge
Opponent B – Thrust to Left Hip
Opponent A – Thrust to Right Hip
Opponent B – Collar Bone cut, Femoral cut, Thrust to Sternum/kill




Pocket Fight 3

Opponent A – Duck
Opponent B – Side step
Opponent A – Jump
Opponent B – Thrust to Right Rib / Thrust to Left rib
Opponent A – Throat cut
Opponent B – Rib Cut
Opponent A – Cut to Left Rib, Thrust to Right Hip
Opponent B – Cut to Left shoulder
Opponent A – Cut to Right Rib
Opponent B - Eye cut
Opponent A – Thrust to Right Hip, Thrust to Left Hip
Opponent B - thrust to Sternum
Opponent A – Thrust to Groin
Opponent B - Thrust to Head
Opponent A – Cavalry Cut to Left Temple/Right Temple – Kill

Pocket Fight 4

Opponent A – Thrust to Right Shoulder
Opponent B – Thrust to Left Shoulder
Opponent A – Tuck
Opponent B – Tuck
Opponent A/B – “W” letter pattern exchange
Opponent A – Cut to Left Collar Bone and Right Rib
Opponent B – Cut to Left Rib and Right Collar Bone
Opponent A – Cut to Groin
Opponent B – Thrust to Sternum
Opponent A – Cut to Right Shoulder
Opponent B – Cut to Left Shoulder
Opponent A – Jump
Opponent B – Duck
Opponent A – Thrust to Right Hip
Opponent B – Thrust to Left Hip / Kill

a short story - Lakeside

I remember them fondly, I thought to herself. I was in a brisk day in early November and the streets of Avalon ( Some call it Manhattan ) were filled with the throng of humanity. Their life pouring out of them. The tyranny of the clock cutting moments in precious breath. I looked in a window , the glass reflective. My eyes the lake which I am the lady. I remembered Lancelot the troubled by virtue and feet of clay. Dagonet the jester who had to tell his king the truth. That Gueneviere loved him as king first and as a man second. Marrok the one cursed to be a wolf. La Cotte a la Mail, the warrior who wore the armor his father was killed in. But most of all I honored them.
I saw them all. In the blade I had tattooed on my wrist, In the multi-colored scarf I wore. In the fang clasped in silver I wear around my neck and the links of crimson stained chain I wear as a bracelet. These were my knights. I trained them. Gave them sanctuary and called them when I needed them. Each had a touch of my power. As all the knights of the round table. I am the lady of the lake, the keeper of Excaliber. The hand that waits for shining armor and finest hour.
It was a good day. My long blonde hair fell about my shoulders and my lake which I keep in my eyes drank in the far off lands. But here in Avalon I waited. Waited for the king. I was hunting today. The last Pellinore was in the city. His quest finally brought him here. For I am the second lady of the lake. The inheritor.
Night fell on Avalon. The sky crimson and amber like a fresh wound. I could feel him. Pellinore and his family have since the beginning had one goal. The Beast. The questing beast. A creature they were doomed to never kill. Their family curse. I should know I cursed them.
The Pellinores were a brutal tribe of Caitiff knights. They served no lords but the hunt. They killed for sport, for pleasure. The eldest Pellinore was a hawker. He had his wolfhounds and his stable. He had his rougish knights tax his surfs to starvation and feed their daughters to his more unruly appetites.
It was a still night under a amber moon that gave their bloodline to me. Thrr times I had warned them not to hunt in my grove. Not to kill in this small patch of land. Where my animal kin and wayward knights drank of me. The eldest Pellinore hunted mercilessly. But his quarry was not bear, wolf or hart. I was a young girl of blonde hair and eyes of blue.
I was alone in the wood, when the knight snuck up on me and turned me around.
“ Just a kiss lass is all I ask.” Pellinore said.
“ A forceful hand does not ask.” I relplied turning my face away.
“ It is my right.” He pulled me to him.
“ And this is mine.”I clawed his face and pushed. The chase. Which is what he wanted was on.
I ran as his nighthawks spotted me and his hounds chased. His bows arrows whipped passed my ears. He hunted me. I hid and used the forests I knew so well. My sisters taught me the ways of herb and tree and water. But he followed wanting more than I would give him. He unhorsed and took to foot reveling in anticipation. Till I lead him to the grove.
The moonlight shone upon the lake and my blood kissed the water. And he came. Sword drawn and armored.
“ Nowhere to run, little one” He says to me through a rasp. Out of breath an hurried like an ungenerous lover.
“ This grove is sacred.” I say to him.
“ It will be tonight.” He gasped. He came towards me. Ready to take all I was. Virtue, dignity and then life. It was his rite as a lord. But he wasn’t a lord there. In the grove.
As he ventured forward I went into the water. It’s chill embraced me like lost family separated by war. Then as I inhaled the water in. It filled me.I died…………..

Then

It gave me strength I couldn’t comprehend. I was the keeper. The water flowed through me and as I opened my eyes. I saw him standing at the bank. Hawk on his arm. Hounds at his feet. And I rose and horror gripped his face. The coward backed away and stumbled.
“ A BEAST !!!” he screamed with trembling voice.
“ No more than you.” I said calmly.
“ I will hunt you till the stars burn out.”
“ Then your wish is granted but you and your blood will never kill me.” I said. And I sank back beneath the waves of the lake. They’ve hunted me ever since.

Tonight he will come to Central Park, the new sacred grove. I will be the beast. The creature of his nightmare. It was in the park he stalked me. The Pellinore family legend made them believe that only a sword could kill the beast. The creature they saw in their most private moments.
I changed to Marrok’s wolf and smelled the thousand fold scents of the city. And stalked the most recent scion. He wandered through the park. Hiding the blade under a long coat. Young and with just a little hint of madness.
I approached as the wolf and growled.
“ It is you. New Pellinore.”
He drew he had skill. He made chase and dodged into the wood. Once again taking human form. I borrowed the skill of Dagonet. The jester. Agile and acrobatic. I mocked him.
“ Young hunter swings away.”
His sword cut the air in a wide arc.
“ But tis the beast that holds sway.”
He thrusted into a tree. I came out of the shadows.
“There are many ways to miss.”
He swung I dodged and did a dive roll, standing opposite him.
“ So much sorrow for a forced kiss.”
He thrust again and hit a good hit. But La Cotte’s armor deflected it. Then without thought. I toughed the tattoo on my wrist. And the sword came to my hand. Lancelot’s sword. For I taught him the art.
The pellinore swung high , I ducked. Then cut straight down as if to cleave me in two. I parried with ease and kicked him in the chest. Air escaped him.
“ MONSTER…” He screamed and charged. A series of cavalry cut around his head and to my shoulder. Then a thrust at my eyes. I spun an cut across his stomach. He tucked in and over-swung going for the backs of my legs. I flipped over his blade and watched it stick in the dirt. Then thrust home. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t curse. He just fell. The last Pellinore of this generation. A decade of so. Another will come. I looked at him. And went back to the lake and the company of better men.

lady in the lake

The rain pummels the roof,
And the old bard shifts,
Colors offer the autumnal proof,
As then his memory shifts,

He recalls the woman in white,
Her side with blooded scar,
Loneliness stares up to this knight,
A shadow close and forever far,

To the wood he’ll meander,
To slay the demons of thought,
And to the injuries he’ll pander,
The scars time had wrought,

The flow for him is calling,
The war drums sound in water,
There is a freedom in the falling,
And a glory in the slaughter,

As leaves like compromises,
Fall gently to the earth,
The trees whisper the wises,
Or death, life, and rebirth,

He’ll go to lake so still,
And watch her rippling skin,
The lakes lady has her own will,
For those of flesh, feather or fin.

Her ghost kisses the old shore,
And calls him to the slaughter,
He has seen her face before,
Just beneath the water,

SKID

A GOOD KILLING

PROLOGUE

I was tracking the Gemini killer from Chicago to New York. All the evidence I could process pointed to a male early thirties, white, O positive blood. Pretty much all the usual suspects of North America. He was getting better, perfecting his craft. 12 victims so far. Same modus operandi. Whoever the killer was, he needed a place. His work took too much time. And he traveled too much. One set in Oregon, One Set in Alaska. I was looking through DMV records for a trucker. But the routes were too diverse to make sense.
We SKID’s called him the Gemini cause he took a liking to killing twins. Sometimes years apart. Always twins, identical or fraternal. None of the SKID’s had a face or a name yet..
I had found Gemini’s work earlier that day. 22 year old, black, female. Raped, flayed alive, both legs broken. She had lost her twin to a pedophile ring when she was 5.
I knew that. Accessed the phone records, federal and state databases. There was no overlying connection between all the victims.


I knew that a thought smuggler was bringing a package of repressed memories to the Gemini. It was Terrance May. A power psychic in New York. I could head home..


1.

I was waiting for the drop and my mark was waiting as well. The marks name was Terrance May.
Jared Martel was late. He was never late. He was fastidious and annoying that way. It was 4 a.m. and I was in no mood for this.
It was raining, hard in Madison Square Park. It reminded me of my first kill’s memories of New Orleans. It was a hard cleansing August rain and it came up without warning. There was a little thunder far off. Lightning flashed in the distance. The air had the electric feel of bloody anticipation. And the memories of my first kills mother in brighter days flashed across the sugar engine that I call a mind.
Rain Darlin is just the tears of God. She said.
The psychic, Terrance May waiting for the drop was getting nervous, squirrelly. I was watching. He was scanning the park looking for minds. Hoping to instill an ember of fear. My mind was a undetectable a piece of background static amongst all the irrelevant chatter of the meat that swarm in cities. I played a little Wes Montgomery in my head, Jazz guitar relaxes me. I paused took a deep unnecessary breath. And walked over.
I was dragging my 6’4 , 300 pound bulk toward the psychic. He looked up lost in the Maze of mental voices as I crashed into him. And just started hitting. I got to hit him hard and fast not allow him to focus.
Where the hell is Jared !!! I say between punches. I diamond up my skin and the poor psychic must have felt like Nemesis herself had come to collect. He tries a psyhic assault before he telekinetically pushed me off him. I went flying some 40 feet up and away, gravity is a bitch goddess and I landed with an echoing thud.
Fuckin SKID. He says as he goes into Ki Tae first form. I smile through my mop of black hair. My artificial eyes were looking for a gap in the fields of force he was surrounding himself with.
A few quick exchanges; block to the head, He hit me with quick lightning strikes to the chest. Hitting with the force of a thousand pounds. He wailed me upside my head. Rung my bell a bit. I was waiting for him to get a little over confident. His mind was trying to agitate the molecular motion of my face. But my troops hung together like always. My skin can be hard as diamond if I want it.
He then started with a flying kick telekinetically pushing himself off the ground. Never a good idea to take to the air with a rusting old machine like myself. I catch him in mid air and drive him down. Sink my fingers in his skull. And rip memories from him. Martel wasn’t coming. They wanted Blue.
Dammit
I broke his neck and took off running.


The new kills memories were being collated in my mind. Martel was a thought smuggler, but he didn’t know what the drop was. I dial Lisa in my head. No answer just a voice mail.
Hey lover, come behind the Barnes and Noble on 18th a Broadway.

18th and Broadway. Not far. Not far at all.







2.

I was whispering the Russian Orthodox act of contrition as I came upon her.
A gun doesn’t worry if it has a soul, Felix Seven. She says
I’m more than a gun. I said blowing the smoke from my cigarette and watching it waft into the dreary New York night. Oxidizing agent. Now all I need is to refuel with a bottle of Glenfiddach, six cups of black coffee with a ton of sugar. and all should be cooking with propane.
I know that too well my darling. She says with a kiss, Now be the big strapping Louisiana gentlemen you are and take off his head so I can have a look see. She’s a runt so everyone is big and strapping. But I’m bigger than most.
Is it always business with you, I say
We have time for foreplay later , she says flashing me a little skin.
I formed a diamond blade from the carbon in the air and with a jerk the head came free.
Lisa Blue is a forensic telepath, She can read the minds of the recently dead. She is about 5’2, dancer’s build, brunette, with wit more pointed than a stiletto, and big blue eyes that you can sail across and never find the horizon. She would be my heart if I had one.
We were tracking a Chaos Engine thought smuggler through the Maze, a psychic nightmare realm that underpins ours. It is a savage place that bleeds into the real world. Only telepaths and SKIDS can interact with the maze. Jared Martel was charming, good looking, and was a bastard who needed a good killing but someone other than us finally caught up with him.
He was flayed alive, sprawled out in a dumpster on 18th street just next to the old town tavern. But lucky for us his body was still warm. You got to take your victories when you can. He took one hell of a beating before hand. Cracked tibias, broken ribs. The flaying alive was an added sadistic flourish. I’m just pissed I didn’t get to
Ki Tae – or Mind Hand is a telepathically/ telekinetically enhanced martial art. All the telepaths learn it. One hit and you can rip the mind of your opponent. If they’re meat. But I’m not meat.
I’m a S.K.I.D., it is an acronym for serial killer interception drone. A nanotechnological Android that hunts serial killer and rogue psychics. But we’ll keep my relationship with Lisa a secret for now.
With Jared Martel’s head encased in a thin sheen of diamond. I wanted to get home, make love and psycho-print what remains of this critters mind. But I can’t do that until Lisa pulls out the package gets past the traps and the mind bombs placed there by the Engine. You see the Engine feeds on fear and violence and pushes beings with these murderous inclinations just a fraction. Then they come along for the ride. Energy beings being of pure malicious thought.







3.

This ain't right. I say as we head to her apartment on 26th and Park Ave South.
What isn’t right? She says looking up at me. Blue Eyes wide, I know deep in her soul she wished she could read my mind.
Nothin darling. Just a lot on my mind
Liar. She said smiling with a smile so indistinct the Mona Lisa would envy. Her apartment was spacious, the art pre Raphelite / Southwestern fusion With a balcony. I put Jared Martel’s head on the kitchen table and poured myself a scotch.
She never kept anything in her fridge so I didn’t bother looking. My troops the nanites that make up my body were getting restless screaming for fuel. They quieted down after the first round. Imagine your body being made up of a billion irate atomic sized robotic wolverines with surlier disposition and obsessive compulsive disorder. That is my life.
Lisa had changed clothes to a lavender camisole and panties. She was going to get the package disarmed, open the package. Then we would make love, take a shower and go to bed. At least I hoped this was the plan. The head was still warm when I uncased it from the diamond sheath I put it in. I put my hand on the back of her neck to see what she saw. And she went it.


4.

Jared Martel’s section of the Maze was a jumble of bloody images plastered on brown brick walls. Lurid and tasteless. Lisa clad herself in a blue leather jumpsuit armed with two weapon rapier and daggor. The corridors twisted and turned and even the gravity was not being cooperative.
The floors were slick with blood. Hooks on the walls. On occasion a filet knife would dart at her and she would dodge it. She paused to disconnect a tripwire. A mind trap that would have opened a pit deep into decaying his subconscious. She would have been trapped, unable for me to get to her and she would die with his mind.
Across the horizon of the maze you could see them pouring from their towers silhouetted by the blood red sun, and waxing blue moon . The Spectres, feeding on the emotions of those few unfortunates who got lost in the labyrinth. They had almost absolute rule of the mindscape. Only a few brave souls stood up to them. But these incursions are hit and runs.
Lisa finally got to the package, a metaphoric briefcase. Sitting on a small desk, and there sat knowing he was dead was the grinning form of Jared Martel.
Lisa Blue I’m so glad you came to see me. Jared says leering
Not you sugar. I just want the package.
And. he says.
I need to know why the engine killed you.
Doors slammed behind her, windows barred shut.
Who said they did.


5.

I lost contact with her. It was a trap. I cradled her, picked her up and brought her inside my chest cavity. I figured it was the safest place. While she fought her battle. Her door blasted open and I saw the grinning face of Jared Martel.


6.

The first blows struck like jackhammers, I armored up and stood my ground. Grabbed him and took us out the balcony window to the roof of the building below. He saved himself from the fall and hovered in the air like an earthbound God. I formed a pair a diamond short blades and fell into comfortable escima form. Some cutting was about to happen.


Martel expanded his psionic form and reached out for her. Lisa Blue no stranger to Kit Tae pushed him back against the phantasmal crack house wall. She formed a swept hilt rapier and main gauche. As did he. Some cutting was about to happen.


I threw my right handed bladed and he telekinetically threw it aside like so me kind a pathetic annoyance. Then burn all the fuel I had in reserve. Leapt.

Martel’s rapier form was excellent, clean, and heavy on the thrusts. She kept disengaging waiting for the opening. His mind was split. The connection of the twin had to be severed. He drove through her center line and cut her across the midriff. He dexterity made her pull away before the weapon could really strike home. Steel flashed.

It was a good leap, 20ft straight up; I grabbed him like a long lost lover. Cutting across with the left knife grabbing his hair and ramming my forehead into his face. I stabbed several times a perfect X cut. Meat still feels pain. He threw us back down to the tar roof with a crash. Shit.

Shit ! The Maze was shaking like the Enterprise hit by a photon torpedo. Lisa almost lost her balance. Skidded fell back retreating with less than sure footwork. Disengage. Get him frustrated. He over extended a lunge cut his rest and leapt over him flipping in mid air. His form reversed itself. And grew two other arms. This was his mind. His reality, HIS UNIVERSE.

My troops were rebuilding as fast as they could. But the fuel was burning too fast for me to replace it. I had to keep Lisa safe. He levitated around me gloating.

Lisa Blue’s wound was bleeding badly. Gotta stay with it she thinks to herself.

All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one

All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one

Is that so, I says, Spitting up nanites. And push myself to my feet. A million atomic bodies aching.

Yeah sweetie, she says while fending off blows. You killed your twin. And kept his memories. But we are in his mind and it’s dying.
Then you go with me.

It was a bluff. I stood, bleeding. But defiant. The knife my only armament. I smile. That is where you’re wrong.

That is where you’re wrong, he says to me. In that briefcase are the combined horror, torture and degradation of all the Gemini murders. The Chaos Engine will take this gift and give me life again without form. About time you gave me something I could use. She says as she grabs the metaphoric brief case and runs. The Martel became bestial wolf or panther like and made chase running up the walls and the ceiling. Lisa Blue was running. Running for all she was worth as a universe closed around her.

The first blow shattered my left arm; I couldn’t regenerate it in time. Then as he closed I brought him into close range and jacked straight into his brain.

B, get out of there! Is all she hears as she sees the connection gate of her mind hand.

I scrambled his thoughts. Formed an edged blade out of my ruined knee and brought it straight in his.

The beast doubled over and fell. She turned and cut open the briefcase. She knew there was a mindbomb there. The pain and horror of all the Gemini’s victims flooded the hallway with faces. She saw the gate back her mind closing and jumped through the iris of her mind’s eye. Out of his head and back in her body.

Jared Martel fell.

Jared Martel fell.

The Gemini was dead.

I slowly brought her out of me. She was fine a little cut up but fine. Hey, says to me. You look like hell.
Buy a guy a drink was all I could say, before shutting down. And in the digital dream I saw girl, my goddess. And I sailed across those eyes to the horizon.

joy

The morning air is chilly, the pipe full of Manhattan Twilight tobacco. I wonder for a few moments about the future. The training is going well. No cigarettes, no drinking, miss my people. The day beckons on. A splinter of light in the black. The rains washing the old soul. Nourishing it like a meal of peasant food. Often ignored for more hearty repast. This simple act of consummation. Gives me some elusive hope. The codes of chivalry and bushido mention these moments of clarity of purpose. The fianna understand in the rhyme there is a subtle perfection. She’s got a way, the way is in the geometry of shapes, the equation in the improvisation of a well turned phrase. Words are numbers, numbers are words, and my blessed rain always brings me back to her. In the quiet secret moments. When there is only me smiling as my laughter dances with raindrops. I find her. Joy.

coup de grace

The joyful scar…

There is something about a sword,
Tween the thrust and cut.
That makes even a thief a lord,
Only a blade you can trust no matter what,

In the hand the feel of steel.
Upon command it’s heart in field,
Accept the vows as thou kneel,
And by it’s wounds you’re healed,
For it is both weapon and shield,
And it’s kiss is doom sealed.

For it’s honor you pledge,
Deeper promises than to any lover,
For you keep it’s keen edge,
As it flies you discover,
The punishment of it’s birth sledge,
Felt by ghosts that above you hover

That to it, war is just.
And to it, you’re it’s master.
And to it, you hold your trust,
Fail it, brings only disaster,
And to it tween cut and thrust,
the riposte was even faster,

I have a theory

Things not to put on resume or you will not find in Monster.com search engines. I know now why there are no super heroes – they can’t find day jobs.

Billionaire Playboy posing as masked vigilante,
Pirate or Privateer,
Mild mannered news reporter actually super-heroic alien,
Viking,
Camelot era knight transported through time,
Deep cover secret agent posing as billionaire playboy,
King of underwater civilization,
Cowboy fighting the good fight,
Mutant blessed and cursed with powers reviled by the general populace.
Time Lord,
Scientist blessed with super abilities from accident,
Smuggler with heart of gold,
Swashbuckler in disguise as foppish prince,
Mechanical genius posing as his own bodyguard,
Super-villain dictator of small eastern European country,
World War 2 anachronism, formerly frozen in ice, now embodiment of American ideals,
Super-villain running for president,
Blind Lawyer posing as masked vigilante,
Camelot era Demon with a penchant for rhyme,
Immortal being only killed by decapitation…

Yoo Ree Uhng - Ghosting drill

Yoo Ree Uhng


Ghosting

Menu Choices for practice

Attacks* – Head, Groin, LS, RS,LH,RH, Eyes, Robs, Wrist, Knees, Collar bone, Femoral , Pass Cut, Cavalier Cut,
Thrusts = retreat, reverse, under, over, straight, side
Hand to Hand = punch, kick , elbow, knee, choke, eye gouge

*( AS STRIKES OR THRUSTS )

Defense/Dodges – Defenses ( any parry of specified blows) Dodges - duck, jump, tuck, left side dodge, right side dodge,

Drill to be done, movement established between partners and rehearsed – Establish an Attacker and a Defender. When comfortable speed can be developed it can be really fast and really pretty.

The Greek letter references - ALPHA through GAMMA are spice you add to the fight they can be any of the following or make up your own.

1. LOCK/THROW – classic face to face push away
2. Wraparound drill – Choose 2-6 targets
3. Groin, Head, Eye variant – The groin head eye drill is a basic exchange – attacker goes for groin, defender head, attacker eye then defender groin, attacker head, defender eye. Choose any three-six zones.
4. Strike-Parry drill – two passes
5. Siniwali/ Cut as exchange drill
6. Any of the multiple Alphabet patterns as exchange drill
7. Displays – all the flourishes
8. Press attack – Furious attack
9. Wounding – one of the figters gets wounded
10. Attacker/Defender switch roles.



MOVEMENT
1. ATTACKER – Attack #1 (from any of the choices given)/
2. DEFENDER – Defense/Dodge #1 (from the choices given)/ Counter Attack #1(from any of the choices given)/
3. ALPHA
4. ATTACKER - Defense/Dodge #2 (from the choices given)/ Attack #2(from the choices given)
5. DEFENDER – Defense/Dodge #2 (from the choices given)/ Counter Attack #2(from any of the choices given)
6. BETA
7. ATTACKER - Defense/Dodge #3 (from the choices given)/ Attack #3(from the choices given)
8. DEFENDER – Defense/Dodge #3 (from the choices given)/ Counter Attack #3(from any of the choices given)
9. DELTA
10. ATTACKER - Defense/Dodge #4 (from the choices given)/ Attack #4(from the choices given)
11. DEFENDER – Defense/Dodge #4 (from the choices given)/ Counter Attack #4(from any of the choices given)
12. GAMMA
13. Attacker or Defender – Does the Kill

Kahl - a korean sword drill I was playing with

KAHL

Left Collar Bone, Right Collar Bone, Head – Right Rib, Left Rib, Groin

Left Rib, Right Shoulder, Right Hip – Right Rib, Left Shoulder, Left Hip

Left Hip, Right Hip, Groin – Right Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Head

Left Temple, Right Rib, Left Hip – Right Temple, Left Rib, Right Hip

Right Collar Bone, Groin, Left Temple – Left Collar Bone, Head, Right Temple

Rib strike, LS – Rib strike, RS

Collar Bone strike, LH – Collar Bone Strike RH

Eye strike, G – Eye strike, Head

song trapped in my head

She is a song you can’t escape,
A looping discord melody,
A misty image you cannot shape,
Of a tune you cannot yourself free,

There it is again that refrain,
I thought it I could kill,
The ancient favorite now I disdain.
Nostalgia bests the conquering will.


Where is the significance,
Is This victory Phyrric,
is there some deeper resonance,
please Just get off that one lyric,

SO there again it plays,
Her music fine but repeated,
But I got work to do these days,
Although by memory defeated.

peace of my heart

Peace of my Heart


Burning leaves and photographs,
Moments Etched in pages,
Cut the eyes as epitaphs,
As the old poet rages,

It’s been too long my half soul,
Since I’ve heard a sweet whisper,
Decaying Comprises this autumnal stroll,
Where leaves crunch the crisper,

In my bones The winter settles,
The once fired blood now chills,
In the quietus tween the battles,
Is Where the memory kills,

Were there lines I did miss,
When I acted my part in this play.
unmade by time, that promise,
When you’ve gone so far away,

Lights dim on our rented stage,
The actors played their wages part,
Embers scar the burning page,
For a piece of my heart

lamentations

just threw out a bunch of old pictures, bad poetry and love letters from a time long ago. Gods I miss them sometimes. Be safe my friends, my lovers, my old ghosts, I remember you and cherish you. And though you can't read these words realize my ...love for you is forever. See you in Valhalla. And know that in the process of transformation you took a bit of me with you. A sacrifice I would gladly make again.

more ambient light

OFFENSE ( Female )

Where is the profit in taking offense to a whisper? I capitulate to calm the objectors. I know nothing he says. When I am a gourmand of the existential. My grim repast leaves me starving for something akin to magic. I compose myself for the oncoming. On this blotch of land with no space for too much money. And I smile through the scowl and seek recompense in jazz.

FROGS ( Male )

One day the princess who kissed the frog felt very sad. She ran away. The first prince treated her quite shabbily. She sat at the edge of the moat crying. A frog sat at the edge of the moat and asked.
“ Why are you crying?”
“ One kiss to save him,” she said, “That rotten prince charming.” “ I’m sorry he treats you bad.” The frog said, staring up at her. “But did you know the frogs are the purifiers. The ones who first brought the rain. To cleanse the earth. I’d be your prince.”
“ That’s beautiful,” she said
And with that, the frog leapt up. And kissed her. And they lived happily ever after. Prince charming never came looking.
The Moral: You don’t always kiss the right frog first time around.
Peaceful Dreamers come and play and take sides once in a while. This fence sitting nonsense has got to stop. If you’re going to vote pick a party. This self serving diplomacy of cowardice. It’s the side. It’s all about picking the sides.

SLUGABED SUB-LUMINARY ( Male )

My bed is my stronghold. It’s vocabulary of comfort calls to me. I can regale you with the stories of the bed. I love it with joy unrestrained. It is artful in its siryn song. And I am ill disposed to find any fault with it. Save when another man was in it. Now since he’s been in it. It’s lexicon is incomprehensible. But I have the acumen to not be aimless or angry. I will take safety back. I will have a revolt, a bloody coup. I never sold that part of me.

reckoning rose

THE RECKONING ROSE
By Scott Ferrara


FADE IN:

EXT. NIGHT
GRACE, An achingly beautiful woman is walking the streets, city unknown. Her walk is fluid, a dancers walk. Her eyes have a dreaming quality to them.
She seems to be following a MAN IN RED BLAZER, he has a rose in his lapel. He is handsome, jovial somewhat cherubic in stature. The MAN IN RED BLAZER does not see her. The camera pulls in tightly to her intense eyes.

GRACE ( V.O.)
I did my time. I loved once. I finally found him.

CUT TO:
MAN IN RED BLAZER seemingly on the make with an attractive young woman.


GRACE( V.O)
I was married for three years until I couldn't stand it anymore. The constant attention followed by periods of neglect. Lack of consideration balanced by unwarranted affection and I still loved him no matter what he did. Fists, sticks, belts, any old way.
Cupid wouldn't let me stop it.
It was in Grand Central where the night sky is held hostage on it's enormous ceiling I saw the man in red who once showed me the stars, we had met eyes and he had forgotten who I was. .
I've come to a conclusion.
Or at least a beginning. It was him all along. He never would stick around. Just inflict and leave.

CUT TO:
EXT. DAY – A HIGHYWAY

GRACE is walking down an abandoned stretch of road.

GRACE ( V.O)
I traveled seeking conclusion on that asphalt serpent. Destination rooting in destiny and I have never been more at ease. I climbed the dragons back and caught it dreaming. I overpass the landscape with a casual wonder that comes from too much venom and too many bites. A savage relentless infinity, I grabbed this serpent with it's bites and curses, it's epitaphs and epithets. I walked along its scales unknowing until I saw it staring back at me.

CUT TO:
INT. NIGHT – A BAR
GRACE is watching MAN IN RED BLAZER intently – Images of the abuse she had taken from her ex husband flash through her mind.
GRACE
I couldn't take it, just give me an answer, stay, go, yes, no. I need a reason. To me, there is no bigger obstacle than glorious ambiguity. He would bring stories to me from his escapades.

GRACE gets hit. The Ex Husband

Vodka made him silly. He would come home, only a few months after the wedding, fling open the screen door, 4 am, pounding on the glass because he couldn't figure out the lock.

GRACE gets hit. It’s the MAN IN THE RED BLAZER

I became his womb of foulness and his reason for self destruction.


GRACE ( V.O.)
Until, I became pregnant, or in a family way as my mother used to call it. Then suddenly, miraculously I became the Virgin Mary. The beating stopped. He catered to me. I was flabbergasted. 1,1 couldn't verbalize just how repugnant he was to me. I was too damn young to lock horns with this bull. I was at the point that no matter how much I thrashed my head our horns were hopelessly entangled. I was a mere kitten and all the magic had up and left.
My little boy turned two a few weeks ago. His father will turn him against me. Make him loathe me. Say I ran because I couldn't love him and be free both at once. I was glad it was a boy, I would have been scared were it a girl. I didn't trust him.

CUT TO:
GRACE alone on a bus. The MAN IN RED BLAZER sit behind her

GRACE ( V.O.)

I tried to go and see my son, I was trapped on this horrid bus between two awful men, both prophets, dealers in propaganda and poison. One was an ex seminary student, the other a criminal. They argued incessantly the entire way there. Neither one of them knew how to keep his pants on. One talked about his nine, and a pit bull he shot that he bought for his mother, the other talked of a vision he had of a glowing leaf falling in a Christmas tree pattern to the floor of a church. It was not earth shattering as vision go, but he was proud of it. I had to wriggle free.

The trip was long from the New York to Syracuse. The leaves were bleeding onto the road. We kept moving, to a sore of a town, where I grew up, was married, was battered and later ran away from. I was prisoner in that infection too long. Blood also binds us. Ties us together, and in many ways we are hostages to it. I had only one picture of my boy, at 14 months. He looked too much like his father. I escaped and stood.

CUT TO:

GRACE standing outside a modest suburban home. An Older WOMAN and a SMALL BOY at the door,

GRACE ( V.O.)
Finally there I was, the dusty roads of Nowhere New York. I walked from the station to my house where my parents had Jonathan. He took one look at me and bawled his head off. He was wailing at this stranger in jeans and sweatshirt, gone half his life.

GRACE runs to the small boy, holds him tight and he struggles.

GRACE (V.O.)
Jonathan has big eyes, too big for his little head, like the characters in Japanese cartoons. He moved jerkily, no coordination. When I grabbed him he struggled with his little toy body against mine. He couldn't pull himself away. I held him a long time. He wailed himself into unconsciousness. I was mute. In silence, I gave him back to my folks and went back to my bus. Pulled back to my life now by a two year old stranger who cut my strings.

CUT TO:
INT. NIGHT – An empty room

GRACE physicalizes herself as a giant puppet. She struggles against the invisible force and struggles.

GRACE ( V.O.)

And up we go dancing for your amusement, doing violent little dumb shows where we beat each other with stick. The strings are hooked into my flesh. Controlling my moves. I have no other choice, just manipulation. Servant of the black beast in the dark with a thousand eyes. I am cast in its image. I wonder at times when I sleep alone on 118th street, separated from the other I live with by a blanket, cocooned around me. I wonder if butterflies every come from creatures like me. Call me all right. What does he know of love. He professes it. Claims to be it’s incarnation. He has blood of rose petals.

CUT TO:
The MAN IN THE RED BLAZER – going into his Blazer and drawing a compound bow.


GRACE (V.O.)
Look at him, stirring another disappointment,

CUT TO:
The MAN IN RED BLAZER takes aim and fires.

GRACE
I never asked why he was cheated. Was it the booze, although a phantasm is good enough for me? Was it the hooch or some deeper longing? He has other names – but he was almost invariably a son of a bitch to the women he was with. Although universally thought as a hunter, The Man in red and tonight Cupid dies.

CUT TO:
EXT STREET NIGHT
GRACE charges the MAN in RED BLAZER he turns to her bow in hand. She strips the bow from his hand, and starts to beat him senseless. He produces an arrow in his free hand and lunges at her. She catches the hand with the arrow and forces it into him.

GRACE
I love you too.

FADE OUT:

more ambient light

BACKWARDS & FORWARDS ( Female )

Jack was a palindrome, the same way no matter how you looked at him. Backwards and forwards completely lacking in mystery. He was way-worn with a wolfish grin, meticulous to a fault and oh so full of life. But the place I’m going to is frought with dangers that are worse when imagined. And I mean to criticize. If I wound you. The gash can be covered in bandiages and the infection will consume with neglect. He is sweet and a little meddlesome. Brazen, glib, immature and stupid. We were just babies when we married. I will remove myself from him and his stinking edicts. But I may suggest one immutable fact that appeals to both reason and heart. I don’t want to be alone. I’ll be succinct and without exaggerated sorrow. Some folks especially the perky positive ones just need a good killing. There is no room for argument and there is no other way. I’m a day from barbarism. There is no other way to remove him from the equation. It’ll complete me when he’s gone, out, away. There will be no more us, and that is the essence of the action. A cerebral bauble. It’ll give me something to play with as dusk eases into night.

U 853 ( Male )

U 853.
Explain. He said.
U 853 - May something 1945 , a day after Donitz called off attacks on civilian shipping. She sank the Blackpoint. She’s submerged a couple of miles off Block Island, she is upright on the bottom, but the hull is in pretty good shape. All hands were lost. Two blast holes. I’ve dove her she’s a pretty dive. You can look through the hatches and see the remains. But there are nights, above the wreck you swear you hear men screaming in German.
You know once?
I got a bunch of copies from the Eugenics records office at cold spring harbor.
What’s Eugenics you may ask?
The attempt to breed better humans by encouraging people of good genes to marry, screw and have lots of kis , while sterilizing the people of who they considered having bad genes, or what is the word, defective germ plasm. They made these huge charts and pedigrees. Like horses or show dogs. Try to uses so-called scientific facts to justify their deeds. Considerrd it moral. But the negative side were those who believe in sterilization and culling of those least able to preserve human fitness. Leading to segregation of the races and sterilization of the insane, the criminal and the sick. Evolutionary models, Mendel’s laws and natural selection. All contributed to eugenic theory. Medicine advocated it. Clip them and snip them, Vasectomy and Tubal ligation were the preferred methods of keeping America pure and safe from idiocy.


Well many respected scientist of their day supported Eugenics. Science is a product of culture. Science is as much faith as logic. Eugenics developed in the wake of the Civil War and mass immigration. There was mechanization of industry and the migration to the cities had major health and social consequences. Labor pools were forming unions; there were outbreaks of disease. Economic depressions. And a lot of these problems were thought by the progressivist social engineers at the time to be the product of defective genes brought into the American gene pool from those immigrants: Poverty, alcoholism, feeble mindedness, criminality and prostitution
When I am grown, I thought I will be one with all things. I will be smart and strong and fast, and callous and flawless and cruel and self-righteous. Well at least that’s the plan.

History is not for the timid.


CHEAP ( Female )

Cheap is how I would describe him. Cutting things in half until the atoms split. This can be forgivable. But nothing wrought in cuts ever bodes well. There is the Connequot river, a halcyon scene descibed by an acidic tongue. Never laconic or ostentacious I deride the twilight. And I exalt my mother the moon. With her comes respite and even in total darkness she is there. I can’t describe the inherent horrors in what she sees. This is just too much for one poor troglodyte to comprehend or raise objections. The outburst of tears in no substitute for good old fashion violence. It takes a spark to lead to conflargration. Sarcasm is what it is. The quest for contrast and contradition, hyperbole and pathos. The right metaphor to plumb the archaelogical depths of familiarity like strata.


DEAD MEN ( Male )

Please ..


TROPHIES ( Female )

Sometimes you got to love it when you are a prize to be won.
There are things to be said for competition.

A capitalist to the last.
Or.
Or what?
There is always an or.
Or a mere thing, an obstacle to some greater goal.
There is always an or I don’t know why that is. Something about being the grail I suppose. It’s almost flattering in its vile servitude.
I know now never to let Beth talk me into anything. She’s a sweet girl, a little confused but, sweet, She met this guy Charlie at the bar.
A wolf with the disturbing malady of becoming a man once in a while.
We hit it off.
He left me there, apologetic as always.
We walk the forty or so blocks home.
I didn’t care; there isn’t a man alive who can touch me. They approach like Perseus in a ruined temple of Aphrodite.
Armed to the teeth, shreds of fear falling of him like a tattered shroud.
I had a garden of statues and the solitude became too much to bear. I wonder if Aphrodite took pity on me. At the time it didn’t seem so. She ushered me back to life and gave me Pegasus, the winged stallion, beauty born from my blood. Knights don’t come on white horses or chariots of clouds. Pegasus was mine. And that animal for the longest of times was all that mattered. I would fly over the worlds looking for those I could be around; the blind are very good for that. I just won’t let them touch my face or my hair will bite them. Some people courted me, over the years, mostly for a notch on their belt. Halloween is the easiest time, anytime I can were a mask. Pegasus changed over the years, He like him go were the only ones of our kind. I let him go or a got lucky, he’d be all chipper. I’d brush and groom him, sing him songs. He’s transformed become a big white Mustang convertible. I got him in a garage I drive him once a year and see how far I can go. I can never escape until the hero comes, I drive or fly or run from dawn to dawn but when the first rays hit, I’m back at the tower. In my statue garden.
This man here, ginning madly, snuck in thought I was a sculptor like him. Wanted to tell me what an admirer of mine he was.

hope and consequences

Biding time, feeling rhyme,
Lost and found for your sake,
To the altar of gods lupine
To the deepest ache

Memory sicken, pulse quicken,
Giving the blind a keener sight,
The blessed curse which I am stricken,
The child of the night,

Moon is full, feel her pull,
Form heightens the sense,
This hungering too powerful,
The meet, meat of recompense,

Eternal stars, bear the scars,
Of the forever drunken black,
Not all cages made of bars,
And hope won’t bring it back.

vocabulatory origami

Paper plane and plain doth twist,
In the tiniest of sheet,
To create unwritten form in tryst,
When nothing and something meet,

Papers can fly or flower emerge,
From the subtlest and cunning fold,
Tongues too twist the written dirge,
Just as free to entice as scold,

Written word and spoken sets,
Can form a myriad of truth,
From praise to implied epithets,
Though you are never so uncouth,

Just beware that paper cuts,
SO of these phrases make the most,
A paper blade oftimes rebuts,
The clever verbal riposte,

So within this tiny folded world,
Or swan, horse, or simple prose,
The flower now is better unfurled,
I give you this rose…….

Ambient Light 2

SLIGHTLY MAD (Male)

I don’t want to be a cavalier curmudgeon , I think we all went a little crazy when the towers fell. The American human snapped collectively. We all went a little crazy. Force is what I realized only respects force. I’m tired of being incommunicado. But I happen to be a cursed with a paladin complex. Here is where I dwell between the voices. Knowing enough and not enough at the same time. I’m being stalked by a tiny skulking cat, leonine in bravado. It moves with a grace and panache I admire. I follow him through the maze of courage and carnage. Then I cross a bright shining line. The quiet brought by sleep and pills. There isn’t enough of us to form a majority. So I just get grumpy and wait to get shanghaied by the next shiney thought coming at the speed of dark. I seek quietus. I seek rescue in the visage of some woman coming, coming to save me. My whims are mercury affected by the cold and the hot. So I apologize because that is the heart of wordplay.

ERIC
X ( Male )

You know excuses really piss me off.
There is nothing more annoying than an ex alcoholic. I don’t mean the ones who are being good. I mean the vitriolic, rabid ex alcoholics that treat the program like It’s a religion. They found the devil in booze so god wasn’t too far behind, waiting there with open arms and group therapy. They painted themselves into such tight moral corners, they had no choice but to look to the heavens. I still drink cause I’m no quitter and I don’t go to meeting. I also don’t drink and drive, drink till I hit my wife or piss myself. Moderation being the key. I don’t go to meetings. I don’t tell the world this is what I am and that I have a disease. The algorithm is wrong. I don’t blame nucleic acids and upbringing. You want to feel this. You want to heal me. Don’t bother. I will be blind deaf and dumb to your sermons.

Dude let’s face it, you were a hell of a lot more fun when you were drinking. Now you just exist. The whole drunken dimension is gone from you and now all you are is a self righteous pain in the ass. And you know what bugs me most.

It’s like those ex smokers who’ve become tobacco nazis or even worse those whiney ass never smokers who claim they get sick when they smell smoke. They can just relax.

You were the one that hit your ex-wife

Felt fucking great didn’t it.

You were the one who smacked up his car.

You were the one who pissed himself. Not the booze. You.

SO do my a favor, you can preach the efficacy of your cure. I never claimed to have willpower. I never claimed to be strong. I’ll revel in my weakness. And that makes me way stronger than you. You see I got the cure. The panacea that’ll fix you. Not snake oil.


HUNGER ( Female )

Nothing is real but hunger, I starve, go without and learned never to prize more than what you can carry. Never eat meat in a war zone. Boil everything and learn to blame. Like when the old Irishman say “ It was never cold in Ireland until the English came..”

There is only hunger that drives the human and his conditions. Hunger is a rule, a law and a truth. She dwells in the very pits of me. The hole that gets greater the more you take away. . It is naked hunger that defines. That’s driving servitude is what will cure me.

Hunger requires nothing and the answer to the riddle of what is greater than god.

review from Ambient Light

ERIC

THE ANATOMY OF MONSTERS - Introduction

No sir, we are not leaving here without her.
The world went black, at 4:20 ish. It was mid August. A fine day for a lot of people just to walk. It was a slow day. One of my co-workers got caught in an elevator. So I decided to break the door off to get her out. Since 2001 the company had a ton of building emergency equipment especially for such eventualities. A few were paniced about looters, this is New York. But after 2001 it seemed a lot less likely. The thoughts raced through our heads in the beginning were we hit again. Were we hit again. And once again I wanted a particular man’s head on a pike.
( The sounds of metal on metal )
The door finally gave way and we made the long walk to the ground floor from the 36th floor.
The walk to the bar reminded me of another long walk a few years earlier. Wounds still fresh. My mind wandered.
You know they used to bury suicides at crossroads. And New York is the crossroads of the world. It was time to go and I established myself well in the pecking order. The place is packed and the alpha in me scream for dominance. I decided to go to my bar. The refirgeration was shot so there was a lot of free beer to be had. And I needed a drink.
I walked into a room of furtive glances, No man should be the master of another. And I froze when the recognition hit that I too served someone. Cause if that spiteful animal of regret sees me it’s over. The last shall be first, I’m a poet not a politician. I keep my loyalties secret. Even with injustices clouding my mind. There is savage repression quelling the dissent and “the uprising must end here” the elite are thinking to themselves. An execution is really quite personal. It’s not so easy to kill the boogeyman. There is blood in the water and all I smell is the slaughterhouse. I cannot weep with my head so full of lead. Tonight I’ll hear the footfalls. And yet I’ll be safe as your guest. Criminal poets only die in their sleep. Our slogans will ring again. Some names have been changed to protect the guilty. Others to wait for the statutes of limitations to end.
I decided to through a party for the suicide that stopped our train, even through we never knew him. I thought someone should mourn him. It just seemed wrong that everyone else was bitching about how late they were going to be. I was way after last call. Over the past year we had been to more than our share of funerals, some thought fate finally catch them, some were just unlucky, and some had their bodies turn against them.
Monsters are what I know best. Spend enough time with them you begin to identify with them. You see your own inner monster, but also something else. A fragment of radiance peering under the door. The ambient light. This collection of monologues all speak in some way to that. These are stories collected by me from all the lovely lunatics, I’ve met rambling and roving trying to find a form. This play is my boneyard. These are my orphans, my pieces without a play. They are the homeless creatures under the bed, the derelict things in the closet, the dwellers in the dark, and they are the ambient light. That ray of eminence that strikes some as a mirage and others as a beacon. It was always that light which kept the monsters at bay. The ghosts in their graveyards and the suicides buried in their crossroads. Maybe now they can finally get some rest.

BETH

LETTERS BETWEEN LOVERS

Letter writing is a lost art. Few do it nowadays. That’s how he got me. But that’s also how I got him.
But now my passions need reinvigoration. Where is the fierceness. Like the love lingering after a betrayal. Knowing how weak I am. It’ll soon be time to revisit the past and reinvent it Where I get all the really killer lines. Memories are tangible things. But the horrible thought lingering like a slow kiss is still there. Where would I be if I was still her.
I know I love him although thoughts of strangling the toad in his sleep also appeal to me.

Peace another old piece from the archive

SCENE 1
( A long duel, multiple weapons, Men vs Women )

GRACE
Intimacy

ROSS
You hunger for it.

JACK/GRACE
Completion.

DAWN/GRACE
Connection.
GRACE
But it can kill

JACK
As surely as a life without it can.

DAWN
So where do we stand?

GRACE
It would be great.

DAWN
If no one ever hurt.

ROSS
And friendship was always the last result.

JACK
But I hate.

GRACE
I lash out.

JACK
I hide.

ROSS
I wait.

GRACE
I weep.

DAWN
I follow.

ROSS
All for our standard causes.

GRACE
Until.

JACK
It's lost.

GRACE
Abandoning the ship.
DAWN
Rocks ahead.

ROSS
Into the waters.

JACK
The vessel.

DAWN
The hard won self.

GRACE
We can't.

ROSS
So easily.

ALL
Sacrifice.

DAWN
Reconciliation. Is useless without understanding.

JACK
That is what I want.

GRACE
Isn't always what you need.

DAWN
Forgiveness.

ROSS
Deny it all you want.

GRACE
Which doesn't seem to matter.

DAWN/GRACE
Needed.

JACK/ROSS
Wanted.

ALL
Acceptance.
JACK
But in the front lines.

GRACE
Shells exploding in your head.

DAWN
Wanting them to hurt.

ROSS
As much as you do.

JACK
Even more.

DAWN
I will have no.

GRACE/ROSS/JACK
Regrets.

DAWN/ROSS
No one ever listens.

GRACE
Live.

DAWN
Love.

ROSS
Learn.

JACK
Grow old.


GRACE
And die.

DAWN
But the aftermath is always.

DAWN
Dust.


ROSS
The sky clears.

GRACE
And then and only then

DAWN
The understanding comes,

ALL
At last,

DAWN
In that bout with kindness.

JACK/DAWN
Wounding your pride,

GRACE/ROSS
A middle ground,

JACK/DAWN
There are absolutes.

DAWN/ROSS
Then you will never love.

GRACE
Grey hues,

JACK
A pretty damnation,

DAWN
And for the not committed,

GRACE
Frightened.

ROSS
I confess.

JACK
I want to love you. But

DAWN
No buts.
GRACE
No clauses.

ROSS
Loopholes.

JACK
A contract.

DAWN
Sealed in a kiss. We love, despite our best interests.

JACK/DAWN
Not withstanding.

GRACE/ROSS
That is what you do.

ROSS
And that.

ROSS/DAWN
And you.

GRACE/JACK
And I.

ROSS/DAWN
With grave reluctance,

GRACE/JACK
Brings us kicking and screaming,

ALL
To peace.

STONE an old play from the archive

SCENE 1

JACK
I see myself standing at the foot of a bridge, Dawn is on the other end. Do I turn back or do I go to her. Does she turn back or does she come to me.

As I said, we are at a bridge and all bridges have their guardians, from Bifrost to the Triboro. They have the watchers of the path. Their trolls, their ghosts, the sentinels. Trust me, was all she said. I'll wait. I always could for the other shoe to drop. Eternally patient. Betrayal is never hurried, never runs, like time was an obedient dog at it's side. Betrayal I though I would lead it and not be lead by it. Control was her eminence's fixation. The idea of order burned onto my skull. I am a man in love with the measurable. Ain't no drama if their ain't no death. Death used to be the greatest threat. What part was I going to wrestle back from him? I still have the paladin complex. I misjudged my sentimentality. I just realized sometimes you got to pull the arrow through. Clever, a little brutal, but still .... still is what I am, frozen and hideous, scaring off the demons in my gargoyle splendor.

Tommy and I were a team, when I was young, drunk and high and feeling alive. It was cool as early December. Flawless is form and deed. One night we were coming back from Rocky Horror it was so late and we're in this guy Patrick's car, a real piece of shit. So we're going at a really good clip when, KA THUMP, KA THUMP, KA THUMP, Flat tire. I knew I was going to die. I was in high school I didn't disobey. So we went into the trunk to get the spare. And there wasn't one. So after much deliberation we went into the local neighborhood late at night to steal a tire. We found the tire we needed and started tasking it off. Just as we got the last lug off, we heard the resounding click of a loading shotgun. So we ran. They of course threw the tire to me. The guy never caught us. We get back to the car. Throw the tire on and get under way. I was only an hour or so late. It's explainable then as I felt at ease. The car slowed down. Patrick never told us the gas meter didn't work. We pushed this car down Sunrise Highway, about a mile or so when a cop pulls up. We all were scared shitless, until he offered to help us and we got to the gas station. I got home as the sun was coming up on Saturday morning, knowing full well I was a dead man when I got home. I opened the door, sneaked to my room, only to face my father who said, you’re up early, you want to go fishing. I slept. I had this bridge way out in the woods over a stream, where people would camp, abandon cars, fuck, shoot bottles. Deep in the woods only the train went out over the bridge. We went out that Saturday night to the bridge. I made a pact, read too much Cummings, Plath, Ginsburg, Kerouac and Buckowski. That night I made a promise in front of Orion that we would always snatch life from the jaws of death. I would always risk and live until the earth swallowed me up or until I consummated myself with my own fires. I don't know who I am right now. A shell. Missing a hand from being slow snatching that bit of existence. Attacked by the demons of my dreams.
Tommy laughed at me.
( JACK runs to where he sees TOMMY and tries to catch him . ) Trust me he said, once upon a time, then he threw himself off the bridge.
( A man appears, the two men start fighting hard hand to hand, JACK is a boxer and fighting a shadowy adversary. The ORION fights like a martial artist. He defeats JACK and clasps his hands around JACK’S throat. )


ORION
You owe me Jack. For a promise made long ago.

JACK
What promise was that.?

ORION
Watch and learn. I am the son of Neptune, I run on the waves and tread the waters and I walk your depths. I took Merope and was blinded by her father. And I followed the cyclops hammer’s sounds till sun restored my sight. I hunted with Diana until she shot me by mistake cause of her brothers jealousy. She made me of stars. And once in a rare while I can come back again. When called.

JACK
I never …
ORION
Never to compromise, that was your promise. Your friend was the sacrifice that was needed. But I see you wear failure on you like a shroud. I’ll explain a thing or two for you. A man is nothing without his word. Now I’m going to force you to snatch life from my jaws. And if you don’t you’re life is mine. I am a burning in your skull. I’ve always been with you since that night. Watching the train wreck over and over. The macabre looses it’s taste after a while and so I need to talk to you. You have 3 months, one for each star in my belt, when I return to your sight you best figure out the means to kill me. You must find love. One word and one kiss is all. If not, I’ll take you all. You, my Gargoyle , for you are my sword, and my old love Medusa my club , my Dog Sirius and the Lioness sewn my lions skin as well. Heed me. The hunt has been long in coming.



SCENE 2
(JACK and DAWN, and ORION re-appears to JACK. )

JACK
Last night I heard someone on the roof, so I wait. I'm vigilant. I dream of the day I will feel rapture through these numb fingers. I dream of the day I will experience joy from these crude digits. I dream of the day I can touch again. Hatred is a petty passion, so is vengeance and in the great dream, they play but bit parts to the great diva pain. Hatred is a side effect to pain, which I can no longer feel through these callous hands.

I love the rooftops. Alone is a thing, a beastly companion, remarkable only in his ability to remind you of the truth. There is no one. I love to look out on the city lights, pretty lights, deceptive. Who are you kidding? I watch the world below as the sound rises like the scent of sweat in a closed room. Alone at night and very quiet I hear a man playing with the lock, sloppy, almost virginal. I go swoop down and face the source of the footstep. A man tries to break into my building to get high and is surprised when I beat him. He tries to steal my security by breaking my lock, and being apologetic is supposed to curb my rage. No, unacceptable.
I am a guardian. I have electric eyes and am motion sensitive. I have a yell that can rock the walls of Jericho.

I see the school, the mosque, and the bridge. I see the concrete bunkers and the gated storefronts. I see old encumbered shadows on the walls. I see newspapers used as curtains and cardboard boxes used as fortresses. I see shopping carts become caravans and paper cups become piggy banks. I hear the lovers, dreamers-deluders and the inevitable and unenviable seekers who came to 10 million equally confused humans in search of an answer. I need love. I had is once, it evaporated. One day after three years of loving, someone took it when I was distracted. I wait for the thief to return and take what's left. They can watch me crumble when I saw her, I became stone, hard, solid, unfeeling, cold, the same old hard rock that holds 10 million dreamers from falling in on themselves.

(The two begin to speak to and at each other. Their words overlapping.)

DAWN
I watch him.

JACK
I watch her.

DAWN
A maze of silent gazes.


JACK
And backward glances.

DAWN
I reside in the corner in his eye. He doesn't feel privileged enough to give his eyes full dominion.

JACK
I watch her.

DAWN
I watch him. I despise his restraint. Why doesn't he do anything? Instead he is above looking down.

JACK
I despise her recognition. She knows I'm here.

DAWN
Do something.

JACK
I must see her.

DAWN
What are you waiting for?

JACK
Touch her.

DAWN
With a moments hesitation

JACK
Taste her.

DAWN
Fate answers someone else’s prayer.

JACK
Smell her.

DAWN
I can’t come to you.

JACK
I feel nothing.


DAWN
That’s not the way it’s done.

JACK
I am nothing.

DAWN
You must come to me.

JACK
Solid, immovable.

DAWN
Pass the test.

JACK
Sure as the earth.

DAWN
For the heartache to stop.

JACK
No longer the animal.

DAWN
Who are you?

JACK
No longer flesh.

DAWN
You statue.

JACK
I am stone.

DAWN
You mannequin.

JACK
I am.

DAWN
Where is your life?

JACK
I
DAWN
All I ask.

JACK
ALL I ASK.

DAWN
Is that if you are the one?

JACK
Is that if you are the one?

DAWN
I need to have you.

JACK
I need to have you.

DAWN
Close.

JACK
Close?

DAWN
Close your eyes.

JACK
WHAT?

DAWN
Your eyes ... are they closed?

(Then JACK reluctantly does as he's told.)

My hands are tight, all my joints are. And I see you have come a long way to see me and must be weary from you're adventure.

(LONG PAUSE)

What are you waiting for? Take me. I'm yours. Mind and body and we needn't worry about the soul, it's been foreclosed. I just want to see you're eyes first. Look at me, just one look. Not enough to get a clear description, not enough to see you're eyes shine. One second, a tiny second is all I'm asking.

(JACK shakes his head "NO")

Well nothing gets you nothing. You should know that. Say something.

(JACK remains silent.)

QUIET! QUIET! Speak you fool. I see hypocrisy hear. Let me teach you a tiny bit about seduction. Can I touch your hair? Seduction, don't always assume nude. You men focus on two areas. There is so much more. It's the fingertip on the cheek, the caress of the hand, the invisible breath. Are you searching for something to say, something clever, yet threaded with melodrama like blue jeans? Too many absolute axioms all convoluted, indistinct.

Just beware my fangs and if you look close enough you'll see my denim scales writhe. The
concerto began and ended with a little girl, young and tiny, easy because beauty is unattainable. She had a strong taste in the same breath as the words love. She loved horses. She cried often, and I assured you her tears were real, every last one. They were like pebbles falling from her eyes. The actor, after much rehearsal, left her under the highway her sorrow had left. But he wasn't done with her yet. Her lovely face was taken away. Then ever after, her suitors had permanent smiles. You all court me the same for the same reasons. But they all froze at the last minute will you.

(Then JACK shakes his head no.)

Then one last request, a kiss. Please?

JACK
I need rules. I don't trust anymore, you're just waiting for the next betrayal.

DAWN
Then you'll never be disappointed. Any comfort in that?

JACK
What do I do then?

DAWN
Then sir, you must commit.

(The two fight for all they’re worth. It is real and aesthetic, beautiful and violent.)

DAWN
Don't explain. You of all people are forgetting the simplest rule of the seduction.

JACK
And that is.

DAWN
Honor me. Trust me.

JACK
Trust me. Honor me.

DAWN
Surrender.

(JACK searches for words. DAWN disarms him. He bows to her. He then takes her sword, kneels and places it to his bared throat. ORION cringes at the word “Surrender” as if struck)

JACK
My life is yours.

(DAWN pauses for a moment, puts the blade aside and kisses him. She smiles turns and leaves.)

( ORION appears and bows deeply. He goes into stance, the two fight and JACK defeats him. Lights Fade. )

Cold Steel and Cigaretts

COLD STEEL AND CIGARETTES

By Scott Ferrara


I stood there at the gate, reality melting away like a snowman in hell. And I knew deep down that this could only lead to tears.
In the Shardlands, the Nightmare lands that form the borderland between death and dreams I stood waiting. I lit a cigarette, inhaled and calmly exhaled, sweet nicotine, you’re so good to me. I knew I should know better. But what the hell you only die once. It’s dying again that’s a bitch and dying here. Well that’s just a bad way to go. I take one last long drag and hide.
The preist of the Harvest had found his victim in a lost soul named Amanda. She was a skinny little, scantily dressed, club kid who had done way too much heroin. I had tracked him here by muscling one of my snitches and by following a trail of gore left in a ratty ass Tribecca loft.
A trail of blood to open the portal here.
The gate was unfathomnably old and kind of nostalgic in a sickeningly-violent blood-sacrifice kind of way. Makes me all misty.
Old school black basalt monoliths, with several millions year old dead languages carved into the surfaces. A table, well more of a tub lay fifteen feet in front of the aperture. Channels cut into the surround stone so that rivulets of blood could feed the dimensional maw.
The black glassy stones reeked of a dark time in the way distant past best left forgotten. Thousands of pre-human skeletons littered the avenues and alleys of the old city. The eerie sigils along the city started to glow a luminescent green.
The few scholars knowing about the strange glyphs on crumbling black basalt find themselves hearing tittering laughter in the shadows, seeing red lidless eyes in the corners of rooms and spend the rest of their tormented existences in the material world drooling into cups: the world after that being even worse.
Amanda was crying and begging. The priest, was a lesser acolyte wanting more power than he could conceivably handle. He was not a bad looking man when compared to say a lump of ground meat. The illusion he used to cover his face was fading in and out. Eventually turning two dimensional, so he was a damn handsome man when looked at straight on.
Saving Amanda was my number one priority.

“Hey Sparky.” I yelled as I charged headlong into him.

No blood, please no blood

The handsome face turned to see me. It was fading more as his real chop meat appearance bled through the illusion.
I’ll kill her. He yells. He has a wavy bladed sacrifical dagger to her bared midriff.
No blood, please. no blood.

So ‘Sparky’ starts to scream and brings his blade on high. I close, take a punch then snap his wrist like kindling to take that very dangerous knife away. He cries like the punk he is.
“Go ahead. You honestly think that the Harvester coming out of that Gate is going to look at you as anything other than a food source or were you expecting to hear Barry White when it lays it’s eggs in you.” Amanda was alert and pissed.
“You Okay?”
“Yeah, “Amanda mutters barely audible.
“Lets jet. This isn’ the…”
Just then the stupid little club kid punched ‘Sparky’ in the mouth. Busting his lip wide open.
And a single drop of blood hit the stone.

“RUN!!!!!!!!!!”

Run you stupid little girl..


The tears in the dimensional fabric broke like black lightning across the monolith surface. A hole in space time like a sucking chest wound spewed the reddish atmosphere from the hellish place that spawned the masons of this monstrosity.
Foreign blue stars winked and amber alien moons appeared on the strange horizon.
It was coming.
The Harvester. I could hear it’s screaming, it was making noises no organic thing had a right to.
It resembled a mix of mantis, scorpion and spider. It was 8 feet tall at the shoulder and weighed over a ton. Black and crimson covered in exo-skeletal plates, it’s lower quarters resembled a scorpion while it’s upper quarter were reminiscent of a praying mantis.
It was driving four armored twisted undead humans in front of it. All armed with scimitars cannibalized from a vanquished hive mate. Very few Harvesters can reach this dimension but it only takes one to breed millions. They assimilate all the knowledge and power of the beings they slay and they lay their eggs in their corpses making their egg hosts a hive ghoul. The hive ghouls host insidious larval worms which when the mature become miniature Harvesters. Then the larvae are fed a rich diet of blood, flesh, and souls.
I called my Spirit Weapons to my hands. There appeared a pair sun moon sabres . They look like an overlapping pair of crescents, one covering the fist the other making the handle, creating a quartet of grim smiles.
I crashed into the undead first, they were going to be problematic. The first hive ghoul swung wildly for my head, I parried and drew the second blade across it’s throat. It’s head fell neatly as the black putrid ichor of undead freely flowed.
The second undead lunged with his blade, I trapped it with my blades and twisted it’s blade from it’s grasp then carved a crucifix in it. I split it from shoulder to shoulder and stomach to throat. It’s interior spilled onto black stone.
The third unfortunate egg host paused. I took its eyes and with a pirouette of cruel arcs I disemboweled it. The fourth undead spun its blade with skill and feinted with a strike to my left shoulder while changing direction to my right knee, I dodged, It then thrust mid body which I parried.
All the while it’s master watched.
I lead the undead on. Moving as if I was concealing a weakness to my left side and it took the bait with a frenzy of attacks. It overextended: I took it’s hand off at the wrist and then it’s arm.
I was waiting to unleash my secret weapon. ‘Sparky’ was blathering, and fell prostrate before the monstrocity. It quickly lanced him with his forelimbs, brought poor ‘Sparky’ to it’s mouth and orally deposited it’s eggs.
Not one to rest with a demon intently watching . I spun from the final hit and threw my sabres at the creature. My ‘Brothers Grimm’ flew spinning like buzzsaws.
They flew like a pair of silver owls crunching into the beasts shoulders It wailed and then they pulled out to return to my hand. Green sulphuric smelling blood trickled from the wounds.
It’s tail came down like a stone fist, hitting me square in the sternum. There was a crunch and I spat up blood. My Spirit Armor protected me, but the impacts broke a few ribs. It caught me with one of its sharpened forelimbs and pierced my calf.
I’ll heal if I survive but it hurts like a bitch. It withdrew the limb and I rolled away, Its tail slamming the ground, I moved further into the ruins knowing it would follow.
Where to next?
The wounds were starting to heal. Always a positive thing. I threw the sabres again to buy time. And hid amongst the monoliths. It was screeching and running, it climbed up a wall after me to get a higher vantage point and then leapt.
It hit the ground like a truck dumped off a skyscraper. My blades were diving and cutting it. They were more of a nuisance to it now without my will controlling them. I ran further into the ruins. The Harvester, hot on my heels, I saw an blind alley within the stone structures. It barreled after me, crunching stone and the pre-human skeletal remains that littered the ruins.
I focused my mind. I dove and rolled away and held up my hands just as the sabres returned through the creatures head. It fell, rudely in a pile. Then I went to the nasty work of cleaning up. The larvae still needed killing. I found the little buggers with no effort. They were starting to jibber in the poor priest. The illusion of his face was still holding.
“You see. You see. “ he babbled.
“Yeah, I see.” As I picked the whiney punk up , and threw him through the gate to close it.
I found Amanda a couple hours later. Huddled in a corner. I gave here a twenty and a full Metrocard.
“Who are you,” she asked.
“My name is …..unimportant, “ I said, “I am a Namer , a Shardwalker, a demon hunter who exists between two worlds and walks the borderlands between the dreaming and the dead.”

I paused, went to grab another cigarette. But the pack was crushed beyond even my magic. She gave me one of hers and collapsed in my arms. I held her gently for a while, cast a small incantation and put this thought in her mind.
“Forget “was all I said with a small kiss on her forehead.

Namer’s Prayer -

We are all here
All Namers
They are with me
The dark has come
It surrounds

We are all here
To face fight and die
But we cannot die

We are all here
We will not go gently
We are here on the edge of the abyss
I know it’s name
The war wind comes
The flood overtakes

We are all here
To live, love and die
To stand and spite the shadow
To meet evil with will
And the songs of our deeds
Will be carried on the winds
Forever