#this is just the wooden balls i feel like the ball run itself is cooler in person

[inspplpko]

Kuglebanen til det offentlige rum - Teis Dich Abrahamsen, 2020. Illustrations by Neel Dich Abrahamsen.

#træ #wood #art #this is just the wooden balls i feel like the ball run itself is cooler in person #than in pictures i mean #you gotta stick your nose all the way in there and look at them go #and hear the sounds of them rolling around #but i really love seeing the different kinds of wood #i just chose a few to have in higher res but theyre all great

[slasher-smasher]

16 yrs old

Sinclair Twins x Reader

A huge thank you to the wonderful @thesightstoshowyou for beta reading my mess. I know I just posted the first one, I just have a lot in my head and want to get it down. Thank you for those who are reading, really makes my day. This one is a bit longer. Other parts here: 8 yrs, 19 yrs pt1, 19 pt2\

Warnings: none

Today was a beautiful day. There were no clouds in the bright blue sky, and the trees swished with the caress of an unusually cool breeze that blew through the town of Ambrose.

You were walking toward the station and laughing with friends you made while visiting your Uncle over the summer. Your parents have been fighting more at the most ridiculous things, so you relish the time you get to run away to the busy town.

“There’r drinks at the station we can ‘ave,” you say while wiping the sweat off your forehead.

As your little group enters the blissfully cool garage, you pass your uncle who was currently tucked underneath the body of an off-yellow vehicle.

“Hey Grumps, can we git some soda from the cooler?” You squat down next to him so you can hear him better.

“Sure, don’t care,” the muffled grumble replied, “Er, that Sinclair boy left gifts for ya’ earlier. Sumthin’ ‘bout yer birthday. It’s in my office.” You stand with a puzzled look on your face.

“Sinclair boy? No way it was Vinny. He never leaves the museum.” You ponder while walking to the small office that was tucked into the back. Looking at the desk you find the “gifts,” and let out a short laugh. One was of a poorly whittled wooden rabbit. Or, at least, you think it’s a rabbit.

“Oh Lester,” you sigh with a smile on your face. Next was a wax sculpture of a moth. The figure itself was unnerving in the usual Vincent fashion that just made you love it even more. The moth’s wings have the image of a woman’s face. It was a joke from when you embarrassed yourself when hanging out with Vincent in the House of Wax.

You moved some old papers and let out the highest pitched squeal when a large moth fluttered at your face from being disturbed. You tripped over the chair that was behind you. There was no noise but you could see Vincent’s shoulders shake from his place by the piano, his eye shining with amusement.

“Oh shut it! The damn thing tried to jump on my face!” You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but you were happy that the normally stoic man was laughing. A voice that sent chills down your spine broke you out of reminiscing.

“Ya gunna pay fer that?”

‘Oh no,’ you panicked as you gathered the gifts and raced out of the room.

You come into the sight of your friends protesting and saying Y/N gave them the drinks. The eldest Sinclair himself leans against a yellow car that looks like he was working on judging by the grease on his coveralls and cheek. His arms are crossed over his chest, pale eyes set in a frown.

“Bo Sinclair, quit bein’ an ass! Ya’ know Grumps lets me ‘ave some drinks.” You stomped right up in front of the young mechanic, clutching the figures to your chest. He was a whole foot taller than you, so the intimidating effect from your friends’ point of view was a bit washed out.

As Bo looked down at your face, then the sculptures.

He straightened and grabbed your jaw in a firm grip with his right hand, rough from the engineering he likes to study.

The touch making a dream you had flash like lightning behind your eyes of the way his hands caressed your skin and how you awoke breathless, angry, and slick.

His lips slid into a smirk that made you want to slap it off…or maybe run your tongue across it.

‘Fuck off hormones!’ you scolded.

“How was I supposed to know they were with you Prince/Princess?” he asked in that condescending way of his. The blood in your cheeks boiled. You would never admit nor understand why this bastard of a man gets under your skin so easily.

“I told you not to call me that,” you gritted out through your teeth not taking your eyes off his blues that now shined with glee. Oh, how he loves revving you up.

Bo was just about to make a retort that would make you want to break his handsome face when your Uncle yells, “Boy! Git the fuck over ‘ere and help me with this tin can. What am I payin’ ya’ fer?”

Bo closes his eyes and growls under his breath. When he opens them, they are a darker shade, the same shade as when he is angry.

“Another time, sweet cheeks,” he winks as he caresses your cheek with his thumb before he letting go and turning to lean over the hood while your uncle is under. He acts as if you two weren’t surrounded by tension so thick you can suffocate on it.

“Yer still on the fucking fan belt? Damn it old man let me do it.”

“Prick,” you huff and turn to your two friends who seemed like they were frozen, “Let’s go, ya’ll. I want ter see them new puppies they got.” The offer of cooing over cute things seems to perk them up and the chatter and laughter resumed as you all exited the garage.

As you leave you can feel the red-hot burn of Bo’s eyes crawling up your legs and body. Mainly, your ass.

‘Nope, not looking.’ You force yourself to face forward, not at the stormy eyes that follow you as you walk to the pet store down the street. You did your best to ignore the tingling on your face where he touched you.

Later, you find yourself lounging on some dusty couch under the House of Wax where Vincent usually works on his art and spends most of his time. You were facing the ceiling, lost in thought, arms draped over the back, legs crossed at the ankles. The candle that Vincent had for a light source bathed your skin in a warm glow. All you could hear was the scrape of a pencil over the paper as Vincent sketched in his book.

You were thinking about something one of your friends said while you were gushing over the tiny puppies.

“Hey, are ya and Bo together?” she had asked while cuddling a wiggling puppy to her chest. You let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook your head violently.

“With that jerk? Hell no. Most of the time I wanna bop him in the nose whenever he opens his mouth.” You giggled as you watched the pup you were giving attention nibble on your fingers.

“Yeh, but ya’ basically grew up wit them Sinclairs and even went ter the funeral. You guys must be close righ’?” asked your other friend. The mention of Trudy and Victor’s funeral made you sad, though it didn’t show on your face.

You had mixed feelings about it. They weren’t the best of parents; God knows you know firsthand with your own. But you were saddened about how it all ended; Trudy getting sick, and poor Dr. Sinclair. Despair, like a black viscous goo consuming every good thing in your life, swallows you up too. They all deserved better.

You remember when you saw Vincent, Bo, and Lester all standing in front of the casket, heads bowed in their black suits. Lester, being at the age of seven, only knew that his Momma and Pa are gone, too young to grasp the concepts of sickness and heartbreak.

Vincent was, as usual, stiff, and with his mask on you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. You wanted to comfort and embrace them, but what made your heart feel like it was constricted by fishing wire was Bo. His hands were balled into fists, his face pinched like he was going to scream any second. One would think he would start throwing things, but it was his eyes that gave it away. The watery bright blue eyes that were looking at the face of his mother and jailer.

You have never seen them that clear blue before. A dark, stormy ocean seemed to permanently take residence in his eyes, but not that day. You will never understand the relationship the boys had with their parents, the twisted love they had. Hopefully, the neighbors who volunteered to take them in will fill the gaping hole that has been created.

You doubt it.

The scrape of a chair on the floor made you blink. Lifting your head, you watch Vincent get up from the desk and stand in front of a small block of wax that will soon be transformed into a creature born from the man’s dark imagination. His head cocked to the side as if debating what to do. His midnight hair that is getting longer every year brushed over his right shoulder. Getting up from the couch, you groaned at feeling of the small pops when you stretched.

‘God, how long was I zoned out?’ you thought. Walking behind him, you bit into your bottom lip in hesitation. You knew you had a bit of a crush on the quiet and probably emotionally stunted artist. He was so much better to deal with than that bastard of a twin of his.

‘Ah fuck it,’ you thought, then proceeded to wrap your arms around Vincent who stiffened like he’d been electrocuted.

“I never thanked you for the moth. It’s lovely,” you whispered into his shoulder blades as you laid your head on the middle of his back. He was still like a statue and you started to get worried you overstepped, about to let go when you felt him relax and squeeze your fingers once with his soft warm hands, the total opposite of Bo’s. A soft raspy, “Welcome,” could barely be heard.

You let go and step next to him, tilting your head to see his good eye. You always felt naked when that light blue eye was on you. You did not see any expression in them, just a cold emptiness.

“It was a monster of a moth by the way. I nearly escaped death.” You grinned as you saw him roll his eye in exasperation, “Also, Lester is gunna cut his fingers off wit those knives of his. He’s just thirteen. Where is he gettin’ all those damn things?” Vincent just shrugged and picked up some tools from the tray and proceeded to make his next creation. You huffed and walked back to the couch and ungracefully plopped onto it, content to watch him work in silence.

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #fanfic #reader insert #horror #slasher #house of wax (2005)

[illshowyourhurricanes]

Bah Humbug

This is an early holiday transitory one to help you move along from your craving for that distinct autumn smell to all things wintery! Originally set to be a feel-good drabble for @the-blind-assassin-12​ just because I adore her, it kind of got away from me and turned into a full-on one-shot! Special thanks to @something-tofightfor​ for taking the time to read and critique. Enjoy this big ball of fluff, courtesy of our very own Ryan Brenner!

No trigger warnings here, rated Disney movie G.

Word count: 2119

Tag list: @dylanobrusso​ @obscurilicious​ @the-blind-assassin-12​ @something-tofightfor​ @ms-delos​ @madamrogers​ @lexxierave​ @agent-bossypants​ @yannii04​ @gollyderek​ @carlaangel86​ @poindexted​ @maydayfigment​ @thisisparadisemylove​ @ladyofnaps​ 

If you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list, just shoot me an ask! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

You hated Christmas carols. 

There was no valid reason behind it, but you loathed them, you didn’t want to hear about jingling bells, or sleigh bells ringing. You’d learned long ago that Santa Claus was always in town in the form of your parents and you were over hearing about a make-believe reindeer being bullied. And Frosty the Snowman? All snowmen melt. It’s science. Snow itself was something you never felt up to dealing with, and people wrote songs about wishing for it?! What idiots. 

The biggest predicament regarding Christmas carols was that they could not be avoided starting the first of November. Ghouls and goblins and an infinite amount of Avengers and Frozen Princesses were immediately traded in for ugly sweaters and Santa hats. It was American culture and you didn’t mind it…it was what came along with it that made you a Grinch. You couldn’t watch any TV without being harassed with commercials including some type of carol, and forget shopping. You were assaulted the moment you stepped inside a too-warm department store. You’d only run inside for three items, and upon stepping into the door, you steeled yourself for the inevitability. It would be a quick trip, in and out. 

Except the store was congested with so many people, your usual long strides you reserved for these kinds of atrocities was reduced to a slow, staggered creeping. The only thing worse than Christmas carols was Christmas carols playing when surrounded by people. 

You were in Hell. 

Finally, you were able to reach the shampoo aisle, a blaring speaker anchored to the ceiling directly above your head. It was impossible to tune the music out, and Frank Sinatra began crooning about being home for Christmas. But only in my dreams. It was one carol that brought a rush of warmth and comfort into your heart, followed by a pang of longing and a vivid memory. You missed him. 

*** *** ***

Summer had turned to autumn without you noticing. The air was cooler, less humid.  The days had grown shorter and there was a  buzz in the air. Sandals and sundresses were replaced with boots and scarves, and fuzzy socks became an indoor necessity. You knew this wasn’t just a cool snap when you heard leaves crunching beneath your feet as you reached your front porch, eyes scanning your yard quickly. How hadn’t you noticed until that moment that your grass had been blanketed in leaves in varying shades of fire:  rich auburn, burnt orange, golden yellow. Pausing as you looked, you heard a scuffling coming from behind your home, and you walked carefully around the perimeter of your home. A smile illuminated your face and adoration squeezed in your chest. Autumn leaves were gathered into two large piles, and Ryan was raking the remainder of what was left into a third heap as you approached him. 

“What are you doing, Ryan Brenner?” You tended to use his first and last name in situations like these, where you found him doing sweet things he never gave a second thought. His full name was beginning to replace the use of just ‘Ryan’ or, sometimes, just a shortened ‘Ry’. 

The rake he held in his hands stilled on the ground and he leaned his weight against it, his chest rising and falling quickly as he caught his breath. Raising his shoulders in a shrug, he glanced around your cleared back yard before his eyes landed on you, nothing but you. “Yard work.” 

His answer was quick and simple, obvious, and you laughed, the crunching of dead leaves under your feet ceasing as you walked closer and greeted him with a quick kiss, followed by one that you lingered in. “You’re supposed to be visiting, relaxing. Not doing my yard work,” you teased. “

You know I can’t stay still for long,” he smiled. Yes, all too well.  The thought alone gifted him with another kiss. “I’m sweatin’, Y/N,” he said in his his slight Southern drawl. He wiped at his forehead with the back of one hand, the other still supporting the rake. “

“Hmm, seems like I don’t care much, doesn’t it?” You pecked at his lips once more in a playful fashion. “Can the mention of food coerce you inside?” You raised your brows and caught his startling dark eyes with yours, walking backward for a few paces before turning around to retreat indoors. You had leftovers to heat up.  

*** *** ***

After dinner was eaten and the dishes were set out to dry, you opted to change while Ryan cleaned up with the help of a hot, steamy shower. You slipped out of your clothes and pulled on a soft pair of pants, an oversized sweatshirt you loved to sleep in, and a warm pair of wool socks. Settling onto the couch with a book, you sat sideways, your back against the sofa’s arm. You heard Ryan’s footsteps against the old wooden floor before you saw him. Yet when you did, your book was forgotten as you let your eyes linger over his form. His dark, overgrown hair was wet, brushed back from his forehead. Low on his hips were a worn pair of sweatpants, his feet bare and a t-shirt covering his upper half, and he was holding his guitar. You’d barely opened your book, but you closed it and set it aside, raising your brows and offering him a smile. 

“What’s the occasion?” you nodded at the guitar. Ryan chuckled and bent to kiss your hair before crossing the room and settling on the hearth. You knew better than to start a fire; it was something Ryan had unofficially made his duty when he was in town. You’d opted to use the heater for quick warmth when the two of you came inside. 

“Just another day, Y/N,” Ryan said with a smile. You couldn’t remember a day you hadn’t seen Ryan without a guitar on his lap or heard music wafting from another room; there probably hadn’t been a music-free day since you’d known him. “Got somethin’ special for you.”

You gave him your full attention as his tattooed fingers of his left hands settled on the strings and right hand began strumming. The tune sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until he started singing that you nodded in recognition, just before groaning in protest. Ryan only smiled, continuing on seamlessly with his rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”. He knew Christmas carols weren’t your favorite, but he also knew that you wouldn’t mind as much so long as he was the one playing. 

The scowl didn’t stay on your face for long, however. Ryan had chose that particular song for a reason. You knew the time was coming for him to chase the trains again, just as the weather was getting colder and the first snow of the season was looming on the horizon. By the time the song came to an end, there was only a look of understanding on your face as Ryan’s eyes met yours, and he set his guitar aside. Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you made your way across the room to perch on his lap and kissed his forehead before looking down at him, smiling halfway through your disappointment at his leaving soon. “I hated it.”

*** *** ***

 It had taken a full half an hour to grab a bottle of shampoo and a box of hot cocoa and pay for your items. You’d planned a full grocery shop, but every aisle in the store was congested with last-minute shoppers and you had far exceeded your Christmas cheer quota for the day. Ordering pizza for delivery had never sounded like a better idea, and by the time you made your trek through the parking lot, the last minutes of sunlight had passed. It was a full moon, the heavy clouds illuminated by the moonlight. They were ominous, a promise of snowfall at any given moment. It couldn’t be a more picture-perfect Christmas Eve, straight out of a mass-printed Rockwell painting. You idly remembered stacking more firewood beside the fireplace the night before, and mentally thanked yourself for a job well-done. If you didn’t have such a thick blanket of dead leaves between your driveway and the door, you’d make a run for it.

When you pulled into the drive and put your car in park, a small light caught your eye and your brow furrowed. During the time in your childhood where you had been certain you’d grow up to be an entomologist, you read ravenously and absorbed as much information as possible, most of which you remembered. You knew that fireflies hibernate in winter, and just as the thought jogged your memory, you saw the flicker again. Chalking it up to some form of reflection thanks to the light of the moon, you pulled your keys from the ignition, threaded your arm through the handles of the plastic bag that held your purchase, and steeled yourself for the assault of the frigid air. 

While making your beeline for the door, your vision caught another flicker of light, this one brighter and and not as brief. “What the…” you whispered under your breath, trying to decide whether to keep your pace steady or go against all common sense and make a run for it. Could this day get any worse? Could Christmas possibly be more of a pain in the ass? 

As you briskly approached your home, you squinted against the darkness and could vaguely make out a figure lounging on your porch steps. You’d remembered firewood, but you hadn’t remembered to leave a light on, and you were certain that this was it. You’d be starring in your very own television special, featured as the frozen corpse found in the snow just outside your home, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or scream when you heard a voice.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.” 

You froze for a moment, mouth dropping open. You’d recognize that deep tenor and slight drawl anywhere. A light thud sounded as you dropped your bag in surprise, and you bent quickly to pick it back up. You made a run for it the rest of the way as Ryan stubbed out a half-smoked cigarette. There was your firefly.

Throwing your arms around him, you squeezed your eyes shut. “How was…?”

“Raleigh,” he reminded you, holding you close. He gently swayed back and forth, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Lotta places to set up and play. Nice, mild weather.” He pulled back to look at you, his face holding a serious expression. “Not enough firewood for kindlin’. Not enough people honest enough to tell me when they hate my songs.”

You laughed, taking a step back and lacing your fingers with his. “If you’re itching to start a fire, you’re in for a treat. And I bought cocoa, the instant kind with the little marshmallows.” You shrugged apologetically, scrunching your nose as he reached for his pack and slung his guitar case over his shoulder. “I was wallowing. I couldn’t stand to walk around that store long enough to buy anything more than I had to, so instant cocoa it was.” You paused as you slid your keys in the lock, hurrying inside and ushering Ryan in as you flipped on the light switch. “Not to mention the Christmas carols.” Dramatically, you put on a fake shudder.

He shook his head wryly as he set down his things, gifting you a smile as he took the few steps to close the distance between you. Sliding his hands up and down your arms, his smile softened as he searched your face, pink from the cold. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, leaning in and ducking his head to press a kiss to your lips. “I told you I’d be home for Christmas.”

Home. You weren’t one to dwell on the semantics of things, but with Ryan, you knew they mattered. He didn’t say he’d be here for Christmas or back for Christmas; he said he’d be home for Christmas, and here he was. There was nothing in that moment that could bring you down, everything in the world feeling perfect. The warm body next to yours was one the thing that you wanted, more than anything else in the world. 

“Merry Christmas, Ryan.” You finally returned the sentiment, closing your eyes for a few beats as you leaned your forehead against his. “Can I ask for a favor?”

He moved his forehead from yours, looking down at you with his dark, warm eyes. There was a glimmer there on the surface, and it warmed your heart. Ryan looked happy, and there was nothing quite like it. 

“Anything.” 

You grinned impishly, reaching up to pull his cap from his head, running your fingers through his thick hair for good measure. “Give me your best version of Jingle Bells.”

#ryan brenner x reader #one shot #winter fic #my writing

[cuddlycolby]

Beach Getaway - Colby Brock Blurb

POV: First person 

Word Count: 2083

*****

I sighed heavily as I dropped my duffel at the end of the bed, a smile crept on my face. I observed the rest of the small, one room condo; a kitchenette decorated the right side with a two person dining set next to it, the bathroom was in the corner closest to the bed, a loveseat couch and table in the middle, and then there was a tiny desk on the opposite wall of the kitchenette. It was quaint and just what we were looking for.

I couldn’t stop myself from walking out of the sliding door and stepping foot onto the small, wooden porch. The wind of the sea whipped my blonde hair and the salt in the air brushed my cheeks. I smiled bigger as I took a deep breath and let it out.  

This is going to be amazing.

“Watcha doing?”

I looked back at Colby, who had a slight smirk on his face, and he walked over to wrap his arms around to my front.

“Admiring our view for the next week.”

He placed his lips on my cheek. “It’s great.”

I cocked a brow. “But..? Just say it.”

He bit his bottom lip. “You’re always the view I admire.” Colby giggled and snuggled his face more into the crook of my neck.

“You’re so cheesy, Colby.” I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. I tangled my hand in his hair as his kisses lined up my jaw and then I turned around to meet them with my lips.

***

“Colby, would you slow down?” I yelled as my feet dug in the sand to catch up.

“You need to speed up!” He replied and his body collided with a new white washed wave.

I shook my head, but finally met him at the shore. I gave him a look as he sat on the ocean floor, his hair flopped in his eyes.

“Thanks for waiting.” I mumbled and dipped my foot into the chilling water. It was a slightly cooler day to be in the water, but it was Colby’s day to choose since we went thrifting all day yesterday per my request.

“Oh, come on.” He played and reached for my wrist to pull me in. I didn’t have enough time to catch myself and went under the water. When I surfaced, I pushed my hair out of my face and immediately shoved some water at Colby who was busting laughs. He only splashed water back at me.

We were in a game of splash war now. It felt like the most cliche event of the trip thus far, aside from Colby’s constant, cheesy compliments. The whole act of going away to the beach with him for a week was cliche in itself too; but there’s no other way I’d rather spend this break from school.

I laughed, slightly coughing on the salty liquid, and drug myself out onto the shore. “Okay, okay..you win.”

He followed close behind and collapsed beside me on the wet sand. “Oh, thank God...I was getting tired. I was about to let you win.”

I laughed and shoved his arm, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto him. I cradled his sides, looking into his dark blue eyes; there was a mystical world behind them that I always favored to discover. So much was spoken on them solely and I don’t think he knows that.

Colby’s hand running up my arm brought me more back to reality. “Where did you go, babe?”

“The world that is held in your eyes.” I whispered. He smiled and some pink flushed in his cheeks.

Suddenly, he rolled over, taking me with him. Then he held me over his shoulder and ran back into the water as I called him some unholy names.

***

I sat down in the red camping chair that Colby and I brought and settled myself with Once and For All by Sarah Dessen and an iced coffee. My plan was to try and read all of this before we get ready for the evening.

Colby stepped in front of me and peered over. “You’re really gonna read that all day.”

I nodded. “Mmhm.”

“You’re lucky you’re adorable with your nose in a book.”

A sly smirk crossed my face, but I didn’t say anything. Colby stood there for a second and gestured his hands at me in a couple of different ways as he made stupid faces before he ran off to find something to do. I know he’s not actually upset. This was something we discussed before we left for the trip; I said that I would like at least a half day of reading on the beach and Colby countered back that I would get a full day so...here we are.

I’m glad I opted to put my hair back in a ponytail as the wind was super active today and wanting to rip the book from my hands. It was sunny though and it felt good on my skin. I took a sip of my coffee and glazed over more of the printed words. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Colby had found a group of people who seemed to need an extra player for their volleyball match. He tore off his ‘Take Chances’ shirt and joined a side.

I couldn’t help laughing to myself. He’s a lot more social than he would like to believe.

The characters in the story became less compelling and my attention was taken over by his not-so-graceful dives to save the ball from going out of line. Despite Colby not being the most athletic person, he kept up with the teams' movements; even in the sand. The sun beamed over them, creating a layer of sweat on his skin and his hair stuck to his forehead as he tried to push it away.

I bit my lip, shifting my legs, as I continued to pretend to read. Any time he glanced over, I quickly put my gaze on the page and every once and a while I flipped to the next; it was still not a believable pace for me. I knew that I would just have to start from the beginning, but it’s okay.

There were cheers and the team he was on did a group hug. I would say that I had been keeping score, but I’d be lying. They must’ve won though. I watched carefully as he took a couple selfies with them, a fatigued smile on his face.

I used the book to cover my face when I saw he was coming back over. I felt him plop in the sand beside me, his breathing was still heavy.

“How’s the book?”

I pretended to keep reading, only to slightly aggravate him. He didn’t seem to care as he didn’t say anything more. I glanced over the top of the book to see he was now playing with the sand like a child. He was sitting on his butt, his legs spread out, and his fingers were digging a hole. Actually, a hollow ring, which I could only guess was to be a moat. Then he started making a castle. The more he worked on it, the more it looked to be something between Patrick’s rock and Spongebob’s pineapple home.

Colby glanced at me with a handsome smile on his face.

I studied the black ink instead of giving into him.

Now, a grainy substance grazed my skin. I tried not to laugh as more and more piled on while he made small giggles. It got to the point I couldn’t lift my feet from the weight of the sand that covered them.

“Colby.” I playfully whined and laid the book down in my lap so I could look at him fully.

“What?” He asked innocently. He pointed to the paperback. “Is it good? How far are you?”

I shook my head and sighed heavily. “Babe, would you please remove the sand?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around a majority of the pile and wiped it away.

“Thanks.” I glanced at the book in my lap and actually put effort into reading it for real. After a while, I noticed Colby quietly studying me with his lips pursed.

I raised my eyebrows. “Whatcha thinkin about, babe?”

He shook himself out of his daze. Then he grabbed my ankles and pulled me onto his lap.

“This is our house.”

I looked over the creation he made with the sand. “Oh it is?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Look, I’m in the back grilling some meaty burgers for the group while y’all are talking, and the kids are playing on the swingset.” I did now see the little figures he made; one for each person in the Trap house and a few kids. The rock looking house did have a roof, a couple drawn on windows and a door.

I smiled. “I like it. Are any of the kids ours?” My heart skipped a beat. We haven’t had the slightest discussion of engagement, let alone having kids. They were jokes before, at least I thought so. We were still young and in love.

His eyes looked deeply into mine and he licked his lips lightly. Then he slowly pressed them against mine and pulled away. “Does that answer your question?”

“Sort of.” I laughed, my cheeks burning, a bright pink probably filled them.

***

We held hands as we walked along the street by the pier. There was quite the crowd out tonight as teenagers fled onto the sand to have parties and other adults had their own private occasions. We just had a chill dinner. I was wearing a dusty pink long sleeve, dark wash distressed shorts, and black and white checkered Vans. I was grateful for the long sleeve I bought the other day. I hadn’t thought to bring any.

The two of us veered off in the sand and I was quick to take my Vans and socks off. My toes sunk into the cooled sand. It was a lot more calming than during the day. The sound of the water filled the air as the rowdy teenagers crowded around a fire and played music quietly, bustling conversations as if they hadn’t seen each other for ages. It was oddly calming to see and made me happy that they were all so content.

Colby pulled me ahead to a farther spot and to sit down between his legs. He lightly wrapped his arms around me as I rested my chin on my knees. I looked out into the navy, vaguely picking apart what was water and what was the sky and shore. The air breezed against us, whisking my flyaways and Colby’s bangs with it.

I let out a deep sigh and laid back into Colby as I straightened my legs, and his body formed more with mine and he let one of his legs tangle with mine.

I don’t want to leave to go back tomorrow.

“Thank you for such an amazing week.” I whispered.

“Of course, baby.” He brushed his lips across my cheek. One of his hands disappeared and I could feel him grabbing something from his jacket. A white box appeared in front of me and he slowly opened it to reveal a skinny silver band with tiniest diamond in it.

I gasped and moved so I could look at him, my knees digging into the grain, and I brought my hands to my face. “Colby, what is that?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He chuckled nervously. “It’s a promise ring.”

“I- what?” I laugh cried. Tears slightly blurred my vision and I tried to get ahold of myself. I should’ve known he got me one. He acted especially lovey-dovey this trip.

A dorky grin spread on his face and he took my left hand to put it on my ring finger. “I don’t see my future with anyone else, but I also know we’re still young for marriage...I just want you to know that I will replace this with a real ring some day...If-if that’s what you want.”

I looked at how perfectly dainty the band was on my hand. I shook my head and set my eyes back on him with a smile. “I don’t need anything spectacular. I love you, Colby Brock.”

He grinned ear to ear. “I love you more, Y/N.”

[Mer Sterf]

#colby brock #colby brock blurb #colby brock short #colby brock fluff #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock short story #short story #blurb #fanfiction #beach getaway

[wearenotafraid-blog1]

The Body and Soul Experience – A festival for then and now

Awh, the Irish music and arts festival. What can one say, other than, we are privileged to have them. A collective of go-getters, doers and secret fairies, Body and Soul is one that will tempt your soul, open up your chakras, and make you want to fulfill your dreams. As I grow with age and wisdom, I crave different things from a festival. Where I am at now is the smooth running of festivals: step up Body and Soul. It is a beautiful memoir of human existence. Every nuck, every cranny, provokes your thoughts, welcomes you in, and offers you eternity (well, for the weekend anyway!).

As a music put-togetherer (i.e. writer), live performer and general maker, I have seen the festival from most of its angles. Such gatherings have been at the heart of my summers now for around 15 of my 31 years. From working on production teams, building with crew, playing many a stage, sneaking over (or under) the odd fence and once or twice paying for a full weekend pass, I have had the opportunity to truly get to know the festival. As I grow and as the festival scene here grows, I look forward to seeing the field turned into carnival and the mind turn wise every year. This year was/is no different.

We arrived on Friday evening. The car trip down was only an hour from home so we flew down the N3 with the festival glee blinding to other drivers. The usual “spot the festivalites” (cars loaded with people and stuff) was played. With little traffic, we were in the camp site feeling the light by about 5pm. The car was the choice of bed. A Suzuki Wagon Type R, the squarest car a man ever did see!! I had the job of folding in all the seats to make our make shift 4 by 4 foot double bed. A touch of colour, a few cushions and a trusty light and we were home for the weekend. The performer campsite being our new address.

On entry, we had a small wander. Everything was running flawlessly so we were taking our time and joining in on the chilled environment that we couldn’t but encompass. The Sanctuary. Compost toilets. Wow! The space was tucked away so peacefully. Healers, dealers, and wheelers all lined up. Joking!! It was an array of beautiful tents, art work, a giant cuddly concrete sculpture, and a lovely forest area for a sneaky wee over the weekend ( a sustainable wee at that!!). A multi-coloured  circular sand granule live picture rested in the centre of this nurturing space. Every granule had its own mind. Its energy is still with me. Installation-wise, this felt pure and natural to me and I think this is part of the beauty of Body and Soul Each piece/space has its own peace and this will be different for everyone.  The Sanctuary was a safe haven for the next 3 days, with well and being at the core of its structure.

On the road again, we headed towards The Food Board (unknowingly). We were blessed on entry with the smells. A magic sandwich was sought, bought and very much appreciated. The space itself was just like a regular weekend food market, cooler obviously, but what got me was how it felt like it was always there and not just constructed for the purpose of the festival.

As we took ourselves away we mingled through the forest and floated through the colours above us. The tress and birds sang with each step. Trinkets. Wooden hexagons. Paper mache octopuses. An invigorating stringed installation hanging high in the wild. The glass balls. The forest dance floor. We stumbled across Reckless in Love by evening and revisited it at night. The light shows were out of this world. When I think of it today, writing this, they were some of the coolest I have seen at an Irish festival. The projector screens star-studded statute of life, shone so bright over our dreamy moving heads. The stage, made from more beautiful wood, stood still. Able for the banging beats, it created a state of stable amongst the mayhem.

Wood. The wood. I love the wood (NOT TO BE TAKEN WOODINGLY!!!!!). The main stage was other worldly and this is no exaggeration. As a performer and an acoustics addict, to play upon such a monument of nature would be enlightening. Anyone I seen playing it over the weekend looked totally happy and joyous. One thing I do think about at festivals, is how much of this stuff stays and how much is simply ripped down. I was informed that this master of craftsmanship, by Christie Collard and friends, will remain on the Body and Soul home site. Thankfully!

The walled garden was a tremendous find. Funnily enough, it has the sense of a walled enclosed garden, but without the closed and the walls. It was entered by a normal enough size door at one side and this was the mystical wonderland feeling of it. OOOAAHHH, what is through here? Stages, food, water features and the softest grass I have felt through my finger tips. We sat at one point and all I could think about was how soft it was. I wanted to lie flat on it, let my skin feel it, my head rest on it (and I was pretty sober and straight headed). It was perfect. Looked after.

The whole weekend was perfect. It seemed to fly by. My partner in crime and love was performing in The Bulmers Tent and the Library of Progress. Quite a few friends and fellow artists had slots here, too, so we popped in and out when we passed. One guy that stood out was Mango Dazler, a hip-hop/grime artist. He and his beats man rocked the tent, literally. They were so well synced that it was hard not to join in and be present with them. Fearless, they were.

We met people at every corner. People we saw regularly, people we don’t see enough, and people we will always remember. It was a community feeling for everyone I think, not just us.

What was really special about the weekend was I went with no expectation, no calendar, no times I had to be places. I (we) just wandered. If we ended up at something, we listened, took part, and moved on again. If I was tired, I went to bed. I had no need. It was simplistic. It was enough.

On the Sunday, we departed around 3pm. After 15 years of festivals you build up a book of tricks. This year the trick was to sleep rough for 2 nights and head to a spa for the third. A deep soak in a hydro pool. A sauna and a steam. An Epson salt foot bath. A good feed. A 6x 8 foot bed. A balcony. Cows outside. Swallows mingling. The best company. It was one great weekend.

Gentle. Warm. Creative. Motivated. In-love.

A Body and Soul Experience – for the then and now.

#festival #ireland #music #art #bodyandsoul #love #food #happy #woodenstructure #nature

[2gameprince]

Diary Of Elliot

February 16th,

I don't know how I got here. I remember falling; falling and feeling this cold chill halt up my spine, like I couldn't move. I woke up after a long time in this deep deep sleep. Sleep so heavy, I couldn't remember where I'd been or where I was. When I came to I was locked in some seat inside this big metal pod. The walls were freezing. I felt like I was in an icebox. The surface in front of me had a door-looking handle on it, so I kicked my feet forward and, sure enough, it swung open. The heat hit me quick, like jumping into a fire after standing naked in a blizzard. My skin burned for a second or so before going straight, but it was my eyes that were really killing me. The light from outside brushed in and nearly blinded me. I figured I hadn't used my eyes for a time. So, I grew a pair and took another look. My eyes were blurry, but I figured they'd adapt. At first I couldn't tell that I was on earth. When I left my icy pod I had also noticed that a heavy array of vines and leaves had nearly covered the whole damned thing. Any longer in there and I'm sure the vines would have coated the pod shut. I was out though, and peering back at the pod which seemed to have crashed into this cobblestone wall, near this broken bridge, on a river. The pod was just barely tilted up and the wall, along with the elevated walkway behind it, was devastated. As my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I took a moment to take in the fresh air. It was like I hadn't taken a breath in years. I drop down to my knees as this sudden drop of exhaustion caught up with me. I took another breath and started off, away from my pod. I looked out to see a bunch of highways, overgrown plant life, buildings having been half rotted away, but blue cloudless skies as far as I could see. It felt like summer. If this was earth, well then, it was really nothing like the earth I'd heard about in school, back on Mars. I remember the old lessons and the legendary history of the first planet humankind inhabited. We were taught that the human race decimated the earth with nuclear warfare. It became so bad that the world governments believed the planet would never be habitable again. So the humans left and colonized deep space. It just so happened that the world governments had conveniently mastered space travel by the time it was time for everyone to book it. What never made sense to me is how a whole planet, bent on bombing one another into the Stone Age, all decided to play nice when it came to the matter of colonizing off-planet worlds. But then again, our history has always been kinda spotty. Even in the days before all the wars. There was no doubt in my mind. This was earth, and that big beautiful ball of light in the sky was our sun. But, where there was day, there would be night and I knew I had to find some place to settle. A planet like this, sitting in silence for hundreds of years, with the festering after effects of a nuclear sweep was bound to have some undesirables running around. Especially at night! So, I found this nice building, in back of my pod, that sat just on the end of where the road from the nearby city, connected with the highway out of town. I climbed up this rusted ladder, on the fire escape, praying that the escape didn't dissolve beneath my feet. I made it to the roof and watched the sun go down for the first time. Around eight o'clock the air got chilly and the sky when purple, then black and starry. I'm laying down for the night. Hopefully tomorrow I can start gaining traction on finding some real shelter.

February 17th,

Last night I was restless. I woke to this weird bulky feeling feeling near my heel. I switched on this little flashlight I had on my belt and found a knife, tucked right into this little sleeve on the right side of my right boot. I was almost sure I was gonna have to use it last night. See, around the time the knife woke m up, I heard this eerie screaming coming down from the streets of the inner city. It was like a bunch of people all screaming in unison; like in the same tone of voice. It shook me deep. I peeked over the top of the building and looked down the street that went deeper into the city. I couldn’t live it. There were three people, well, at least they were shaped like people, all running down the roads, like they were chasing something. They were making the noise! But… it wasn’t like some kind of tribal hunt or something like that. These three were completely nude, glowing a bright blue color! They were so bright, this light that was coming off of them left a sort of trail behind them. And they were fast. God almighty, they were fast. And they were the ones screaming! All three of them, in the same pitch, at the same time, echoing into the night and shattering any hopes I had of sleeping. They were faster than deer, running on two legs which their arms just flopped at the side. Perhaps it was they way they moved that made me so uneasy. That and the way these glowing blue men seemed to cry in agony, all the while appearing just barely humanoid-looking in nature. They were headed away from me, and I couldn’t be happier. That was about three o’clock this morning. Either way I knew that by morning I was moving far from that city. Cause god nows what the hell else could be lurking in there. I climbed down the fire escape once the sun was nice and high. Wouldn’t you guess, the damned thing broke when I was just barely about to touch the floor. I fell right on my back. One hell of a way to start the day. You know, I hadn’t noticed this yesterday… but I can’t feel my left arm. I can move it with no problem, so I don’t think it’s a circulation issue. The muscles in my arms seem as tight as a tick. It doesn’t hurt me any, just strange is all. I noticed it first when I came across this tent, covered in blood. It was this big yellow tent with a giant round tear in it’s side. There was blood trickled around the tear and a couple pools of the red stuff on the inside. I found a cooler that had been emptied, but no supplies I could scavenge. When I leaned down and caught my weight with my arms, that was when I noticed the stiffness in my arm. I figured I needed some medicine, quick, or else fear losing the arms to some bizarre muscle sickness. I figured my arms was under some kind of muscle abnormality from being in that frozen pod for so long. I couldn’t be sure. Before I could think about it anymore I heard weeping. Like an idiot I followed the sound. It was coming from this small wooden house that’d collapsed in on itself. I took out my knife and crept in. I noticed this trail of blood leading from the door to some open room. I looked around the corner to find this girl sitting on the far side of the room. She was holding her stomach tightly and bleeding so bad, the whole area around her arm looked black. She looked to be about a decade younger than me. She had a gun on her and tossed it over to me, saying that if I was a scavenger I should just shoot her in the head and get it over with. From the state of her… she was dead already. She looked about twenty or so. I picked up the gun and asked the usual shit anyone in my position would ask. What was her name? Where was she from? What did this to her? Pointless to her, but valuable to me. Luckily she wasn’t one of those stubborn people who who’d rather die with the feeling of knowing others will suffer the same way she did, just cause life was unkind to her. No, this girl had a kindness. Not much that could be seen through a torn up stomach and a pool of blood, but… I digress. She told me her name was Samantha and that her and her two little sisters were camping by the house. They were coming down from the north and decided to spend a night here. We both knew she didn’t have much time left, so I got right down to brass tax. I asked her what did this to her. It was a bear. But, not like a regular bear, she said. The bear that ate her little sisters and carved up her stomach was mutated, green and blue with pulpy shit growing all over. Hideous. I leaned back and sighed at the thought of having to fight something like that. I decided to stay with her till she died. I told her I’d stay with her till she died. I guess the exhaustion from the other night caught up with me, cause within an hour I had passed out.

February 18th,

I woke up that very night. Samantha had passed. The blood ran all along the floor. There was nothing I coulda done anyways. There was no medicine, no numbing agents, no nothing. All I could do was sit there and doze off as she slipped further and further away. I left her body there. No sense in building a big grave and holding a burial at a time like that. It isn't cause I’m heartless. There was just no sense in wasting all that time when I should have been getting out of there. I ran around the house for a little while, looking for goods. I did come across a whole box of guns and ammunition upstairs. I wonder why Samantha didn’t tell me about it. The again, it wasn’t like she had that much time to. I loaded up on guns and prepared to leave. That was until I found a crate of food down in the cupboards of the kitchen. I made up a fire outside the front door and set up a sleeping area upstairs. It was ten o’clock at night by the time I had everything set up. By the time night came I figured it was no use traveling out in the cold and dark, so I camped out on the second floor of the house. The roof was gone and two walls were missing. Still, I got enough rest. I stayed low and could have sworn I heard a group of people pass by somewhere in the night. I was too tired to get up and check, so I went back to sleep and just prayed that they weren’t cannibals passing through. When I woke up the next morning Samantha’s body was gone from downstairs. When I got all my supplies together and stepped out the front door I saw a grave. Those other folks from last night must have came across her and built a grave. A nice gesture, considering they never though to check upstairs where they would have found me. Then I wouldn’t have had to be wandering around alone, like I am now. I guess it was my own fault. I was the one who ignored them when I first heard them. I must admit, I hid myself pretty well, up in the room’s corner. I had even killed the fire early so no one would catch the fire in the evening and come snooping over to see who’d made it. I placed some flowers on the girls grave and went on walking toward the empty road again. That was when my world fell apart. Sure enough, that god damned bear was sitting there in the street, looking straight at me. I knew it was gonna lunge at me. I just knew it! So, I unloaded on it. I shot every gun I had and wasted every bullet I could. The son-of-a-bitch still wouldn’t go down! Finally it was so close it started taking swings! It was able to pin me down as it went into a frenzy, trying to rip me apart! I put my left arms out to block his teeth. I figured the damned thing must have been infected anyways, so losing it woulda been a good thing. But, wouldn’t you know it… I finally found out why I couldn’t feel it. As the bear bit into my arm, I felt no pain. I felt no teeth, no rush of blood; no nothing. The bear had bitten into hard metal and shattered it’s rotted teeth. My arm was made of metal! Coated by this fleshy skin-like substance. I don’t know how I’d gotten it, but it saved my life! After breaking it’s teeth on my wrist, the bear flew backward in pain. I jumped for it and punched it in the snout. I guess it was in too much pain to fight, cause by the time I was winding up my left arm for another swing, the beast ran off. I took a deep breath and looked down at the hunk of metal having from my shoulder. It was pretty damn amazing. Now, if I only knew what happened to my other arm, then I could truly rest easy. I recollected my supplies, put the empty guns in a sack and headed out towards the road again, bear free. It’s about noon now. I’ll keep walking till I find shelter. As I look out all I can see are the barren remains of where forests used to stand, and where highways used to tower. Now it’s all one flat plane of hills and rotted trees. A damn shame.

February 19th,

I saw some metal crafts fly overhead this morning. I was ducked behind some big green metal sign, so I’m sure they didn’t see me. I know there are two, and they were both black. They looked kinda like jets, but their wings were odd. Like, put on backwards, so the sharp ends faced forwards. I don’t know. The only thing that really bothered me was that they were heading in the same direction I was going. I guess it’s up north. Once I heard those things screaming across the sky, you bet your ass I ran for cover. The last thing I wanted was to get sought out and scooped up by some giant killer mutant vultures, or some shit like that. For a planet that was supposed to have no life, there sure were a lot of freaky things running around here. I eventually walked until coming upon another city. I was hesitant about even going near it at first. But, I eventually gained the nerve to attempt to venture in. All of a sudden I hear these bizarre computer noises. I look to my right and what do I see? Damned men in big plastic suits and gas masks! They were holding these long sticks with electricity bouncing around on the end of em’. I immediately darted in the other direction. Of course, the two of them chased on after me. I ran a while till this kid, I’d say about… in his mid-twenties, popped his head up from this sewer opening, just a few yards in front of me. He called out and told me to head towards him. As I ran the kid threw out explosives. I know they were meant to hit the biohazard goons behind me, but god dammit, a few of them almost hit me! He crawled back into the sewer and I dived for the opening. The guys in the plastic suits had disappeared in the bomb smoke. Before the dust had settled we were a while aways down that tunnel. The kid hand me by the wrist and was pulling me deeper and deeper. I looked back to see the dust still coming down from the tunnel’s opening, all the while feeling the ceiling shake. We eventually came to complete darkness, and that was when the kids struck up a lighter and introduced himself. I was ready to ring him by the neck for the stunt he’d just pulled, but I was too shaken from the whole escape to start a fight; and with the guy who saved me, of all things. He said his name was Albert and that, for the better part of the past two years, he’d been living in the sewers just outside the city. He offered me a place to stay and I agreed. He said that if I wanted to leave I should use the south tunnel. As the one we had just come from was patrolled by some old government operatives and the other two tunnel ways were flooded with all sorts of mutated horrors. We got into a whole talk about the world that night. Albert made up a stew, he said, from a cat he said he’d caught earlier that day. I wasn’t hungry. Maybe it was the stress. Albert sucked down dinner and was quick to go to sleep. I asked him about what he meant before, when talking about the old government goons. I wanted to know exactly just what the old government was. Albert explained that ever since the human race had moved off planet, fractions of the government had stayed behind and set up bases in the north. He told me some legends, and about how the remaining government would send “sweep teams” out to kidnap anyone who was still on planet. He said they’d bring those people up north for experimentation. He also noted that they were free to create whatever the hell they wanted, including mutants and spewer, then unleash it into the wasteland. Albert especially despised this assumption because he felt as if he was always being watched. He was a very nervous person. And he kept glaring at my metal left arm the whole night, which made me kind of uneasy. He made up a bed for me in this tunnel he had closed off. There were curtains toward the back. He told me not to go over there. That some toxic liquid had spilt, but he managed to mask it up with sheets and chemicals. Though it seemed strange at first, I did admit, there was a strange smell coming from back tunnel, behind those curtains. I just tried to keep the smell off my mind. Later that evening Albert made up a stew. He said it was made up from a cat he’d caught earlier that day. I declined his offer. It’s not that I was opposed to eating cat. I just wasn’t hungry. Maybe it was the stress. Albert sucked down dinner and was quick to go to sleep. I soon followed after.

February 20th,

I woke up the other night to some heavy breathing, followed by some gargling. Albert was fast asleep. I heard the noise coming from behind the curtains. Of course I had to check it. And Albert, that sick fuck… I pulled back the sheet to find this poor bastard with all his limbs cut off, hooked up to some machine that was pumping his blood in and out of his open wounds. I finally realized where the stew had come from. I was ready to puke. I looked up at the sunken face of the limbless man. He had a needle jammed into his neck and some light green fluid was dripping from it. I could see his eyes had gone blind and his mouth was wording the words “kill me”. I didn’t give it another moment’s thought, walking across the room in tears. I picked up this small revolver that was next to Albert, on his dresser, and pointed it right down at his filthy head. I cocked the gun and saw his eyes open at the sound of it, but it was too late. I unloaded five bullets into his skull. I saved the last for the poor bastard behind the curtain. I walked straight over and put one between his eyes. I loaded up on medicines and other odds, making absolutely sure not to take any meat. God. It still makes me sick to think about. I took the south tunnel back to the surface. Albert hadn’t been lying about that. I shutter to think about what he had planned for me. Maybe to gain my trust and kill me in my sleep? If I hadn’t of snooped, maybe it would have been me behind that sheet at some point. Damn it all. This season must be summer. The sun is at it’s highest point. Least, as high as it’s been since I got here. Sometimes the heat is too much. I do most especially fear for the winter, if one should ever come. I’ll attempt to find underground shelter somewhere. After leaving the sewer I traveled up north, to a section of the city that sat across this docking river. I found a place by the water and some walls where I was able to pitch a small tent. I hadn’t eaten in days, but luckily I had a series of syringes with me, all containing a liquid drug called COMPLEX. It’s an injection which, pretty much, gives your body the nutrients of three square meals a day, all at the benefit of not having to eat or drink anything. Only thing was, you can only take about a week’s worth of them before you get stuck from it. I was on my fifth. If I can’t find food in two days I’ll have to risk the sickness and put myself in danger of being weaker. Easier to pick off. Either that or… commence slowly starving and wasting away. I took up a curled position inside my little tent and drifted off to sleep about eleven-ish. As soon as my eyes shut… the night terrors set in. It was like some fifth sense, like a vision transporting me to a derange place in time and space. My body was adrift along this sea of slumber. Next thing I knew, I found myself in this place resembling some kind of laboratory. It was a deranged place. At first I noticed a metallic floor and plated surroundings with a table or two of glass beakers and burners. Then my eyes shot up to a ghastly scene. My attention was pulled from the details of the lab, and unto these… “things” hanging before me. It was people. They were half machine, with their craniums replaced with round metal containers. Inside the containers were heir brains, with tubes and wires all hooked up to them. Their bodies were half flesh, half of a dim colored plastic-like substance. Like prosthetics, but slightly metallic. Their eyes were a light milky green, completely blank and looking outward at nothing. Their whole makeup was that of puppets, or mannequins of some kind. They were all hooked up on slabs that stood up, in this long row that stretched on and on. in the dream I was walking down a row of them, waiting for one to spring to life. It was as if they were truly alive; listening to my heartbeat, watching me with those void eyes. Everything else was mist and the walls behind the people were a series of shadows that fell backward onto even more shadows. I began to run. As fast as I could go, the rows never ended. Nothing but mechanical, cybernetic bodies filled this endless line. Finally I stopped before one that looked a little like me. I looked up at it, and with the passing of a second it breathed, extending it’s arms and crying out! I remember falling backwards as the slab fell on top of me. As did my lookalike. After feeling crushed I woke up in a cold sweat. I looked over to the radio beside me to see that a transition was coming in. It was some guy warning listeners to stay out of the cities. The broadcast ran on about some things getting loose in the streets, and how sweep teams were being deployed. I knew I had to pack my stuff up and move. Just to avoid a run in with those bio-goons.

[2gameprince]

Pyre On The Lake

The white room gleamed a horrible clear color, while the air was dry and void of any flavor. This room was a cell. But a cell in a place which my mind could not yet register, as the events leading to my imprisonment are not those of a thief or a murderer. This white room is not of the world I once knew, and my tale is as unlikely as any story, I imagine, you have ever been told. It started as a boating trip with my older brother, Anthony. He had just returned from college and I had recently graduated highs school. After a long time away we’d figure we’d rebuild the connection of our close relationship by going on a boating trip, free from the scolding words of our parents when the booze and pot were whipped out. We contemplated bring up girls, but Anthony and myself were more introverted than most guys our age, I guess. We had always been close. And we decided that this trip would just be for us. We paid for some old cabin that our dad’s friend was renting out and took out some our savings to afford a week and a half up there, in the mountains. The cabin was near these two rivers, side by side and flowing quick and steady down the slope of the hilly landscape. Woods surrounded the cabin, which surprisingly was very well kept. The interior was almost completely modern. It had tables and beds and stuff that folded out from the shaved walls. There was a view through this back window that was positioned over this lake, directly behind the building. While looking out the back window, which was in the room I was sleeping in, the sun peeked out from behind the rocky horizon and reflected off the water so beautifully. The outside air was bug-free and the temperature was astonishing. We had finally reached our vacation spot. I thought about the day I had had and the bustle of my daily life which brought me to plan such a week. I remember thinking aloud to myself: “Today is looking to be one big steaming pile of shit. I'm working in the blistering heat of a humid August day, watching the old Italians and Jewish-folk of the neighborhood waddle by and into their mini vans. I think about how I might be spending today if I was in their position. I got a pack of cigarettes in my pocket; Found under my bed a day or two after my girlfriend had misplaced them there. I don't like the taste. The tobacco, or whatever the hell they put in cigarettes nowadays, is too packed for me. I enjoy a lighter, smoother brand. I'm supposed to be up pushing carts around, but in this weather I'm more sure I'd die of heatstroke before I could clear a parking lot. Besides, I'm in no mood to help the average schmuck about their "pleasant shopping experience”. Customers are all promised special treatment and the workers are all promised aggravation and shit pay. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a hundred degrees out here, and that I need some god damned form of income to keep the judgmental words of my peers away, I'd up and stroll all the way home right now. Or, storm into the office of my boss, throw my vest and belt down on the table and tell them "I quit"; Just like in those old stereotypical cop action-flicks. And the sun shower has begun. About time. It doesn't do much; Just kinda makes me feel as if the air has gotten cooler. Anything to trick the mind. When the carts ain't that full I like to sit on a bench, past where the front store cameras can spot you, smoke and fiddle around on my phone. No one in my family knows I smoke cigarettes. Maybe they assume I do and are too trusting in my ability to share every single detail of my personal life with them that they'd just rather wait for me to say I do. All the while making allusions. I considered lighting up another cigarette, since after downing two I kinda got used to this brand's taste, but I'd rather not. I'll make them last if I gotta. Just don't wanna run the risk of a family member driving by and seeing me swallow smoke. I could picture them flying home in a panic and gossiping like fat-lipped gulls, as they like to do. Probably not my mother, though. She can keep a secret, as far as I've observed in my life, so far. Had to get back to work. Been sitting down for a good hour and the mixed temperatures in the air, as well as this flat wooden bench, are starting to turn my legs and my ass numb. I'll sit down again once I'm ready for a third cigarette and a bottle of water; Or both.” What a day that was, and how happy I was to return home and see my brother waiting. Over dinner our brother brought up the subject of fishing and I took to the idea of a trip. Anthony would be home permanently now. At least, until pursuing a career in computers. And at some far away company in ‘god-knows-where-ville’. So for the short time we had with him, I suggested a trip and he took to the idea quick-fast. Our parents, hesitant at the thought of their only two sons fending themselves off from the “horrors” of the wilderness stirred them, Anthony assured a tranquil and firm environment. So with much discussion and the assurance of mine and my brother’s responsible nature, my parents waved us goodbye two days later. I tried my best not to think back to the dull life back home and focus on the time I had now. Anthony and me went hunting for a while, caught a habit or two and, before hand, got settled into our rooms. I prepared to relax in the cabin’s living room as I found the television actually receiving channel pick-ups. I skipped through some static and came to some local new stations and a kid’s channel. Anthony entered the room and asked if I was ready to start fishing. It was eight at night, but I humored his eagerness. So I took a pole from behind the shed, as well as all the hooks, lines and bait that he’d set up, and we walked on down to the dock for some night-fishing. We thought about setting into a boat out on the water, but decided against the idea. We figured it’d take too long. We set up our rods and took a seat out on the dock which rested on the beach and followed up out on the water in a ’T’ shape. The moon was full and the lake was a black glistening muck. Beautiful upon viewing, but sinister underneath. I looked up at the moon and thought about our time together. Not many words were exchanged between us upon that dock. We were both lost in the moment. The perfection of the night and the appreciation of one-another’s company just had us at ease. There was no need for words. Presence was enough. And so, we commenced fishing. We sat upon the dock and casted lines. We caught nothing for about and hour and decided to pack up. Just as we were putting the hooks away we noticed the water dancing. There was a ball of scrambled liquid, floating within the center of the lake and glowing a reddish glow beneath the surface of twirling water. It was like a sun beneath a sheet of liquid. Loops of thin fire sprung out from the sphere as it grew in size. It mesmerized our eyes and then our senses. First came it’s sound, vibrant and appealing in multiple tones. Next, came it’s smell, like a fresh brush of air which had been untouched by atmosphere itself. A temperature beyond hot or cold. This heat, or cold, or whatever flowed out from this ball, and the ball grew bigger. I turned to Anthony to see he had been lost in the look of the thing over the lake. I looked on with a daze and almost wanted to reach out for it. Fire flew out at us in loops again; But this time they struck at the shore and the dock, slicing up the area around us. Our daze became fear as we snapped out of our trance and into a panic. We dodged these rays and ducked to avoid these growing masses which blew out of the sphere like hot steam from a tight radiator pipe. I jumped from the dock alongside Anthony as two beams shot between us. I landed on the grass as the last of the dock was burned way. I felt Anthony’s body follow me in the jump, but as he landed I heard a much softer landing. I leaned over in horror to see his torso burned in two. Everything from his lower chest down was burned away, as if combustion had taken the rest of him. More than anything, I remembered feeling angry. A feeling which attracted me to the sphere, both in fury and interested. I moved closer, and in rage I threw my self at the thing, triggering some rift. A blast of light engulfed me in fire and I passed through, what seemed like a flux of air, built-up in a brush of heavy wind. A wind which carried me away. Out into a void and black place where there was no air. My feet fell flat on the water as gravity shifted and I sunk under the surface. The lake became a portal, and upon the other side I found myself in a place removed from space and time. A corner of a dimension that was separated from all other things. A desolate realm of nothing, but… Him. He revealed himself to me. A presence within the lake, he was. A speaker of ancient things and a spirit of the sub-conscious and, not a speaker of words, but a conveyer of thought. This ghoul passed over me, almost scanning me with eyes it did not have. I felt this being in all his entirety and felt all that he was about. Meaning, purpose, origin and creation; This being… It’s name, ‘Droth', was something not of earth or humankind. Or of space, in that regard. Droth. It was the only word that came to mind. It was the name of this presence. This thing which pulled me into this realm. Not a living thing. Just a being of some sort. A “Him”. I felt a great sleep approach me. An almost ambitious haze which entered my mind and brought back thoughts of a calm and resting environment. I was in a place of familiarity brought on by Him. And He made me remember my youth. And in my youth there rested a short tale. The abstract tale of a man named Thomas Leaf. A story which confused, yet, settled me and a story that went something like this: “He was a fitted-man. Thomas, as he was called. And he made a habit of mowing his rooftop every noonday and again, especially when the grass got tall after the rain. The sun was half up before I noticed him. My wife, sitting in our kitchen sink, called me to the window. I was in the shed with a ball of screws. I came trotting out to answer her call. That was when I noticed Thomas, prim as a pipe and getting vulgar. His wife sat under him, the house ablaze. The anguish was a fog of smoke. Thomas’ house had begun up, while my wife stared blankly. Misses Thomas, engulfed in flame, sat in her rocking chair, flames all about. Cotton filled my ears. The drums were booming as the sun ran a cycle. Thomas was in a panic, the grass burning from beneath him. Before long, he fell through. There was my house and his. My house, a square structure with pink walls, and a brown roof and a chimney. Thomas’ house was a pile of ashy mulch, containing the remains of Misses Thomas. Thomas stood right and proper, turning to me. The sky was scribbles as Thomas set off. Far into the distance he walked. Our houses, once standing at the threshold of an empty endless field, now a home accompanied by a blotchy blackness. We still live in the house, the misses and me. The town tried phoning Thomas, but he’s gone far away now. The birds come every day now, picking noodles from the wreckage. I have no doubt that Thomas will return soon. After all, he forgot his mower.” It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t supposed to, I guess. And that what the outlook I had placed upon my parent abduction at the hands of this otherworldly being. As for the story, I pondered the triggered memory. I could never remember the author, just the absurdity of the character named Thomas and his world, which appeared so unreachable to me. As if existing on a realm I’d never given thought to, or a place of pure fiction. I slipped back into a dream as his power over my being kept me sedated. His exact plans for me were uncertain. Was this mirage of a monster to devour my soul like a demon? Or steal my blood like a parasite? This worry fell back into lightheadedness as I floated back in space. A scene formed around me as a strange dream began to play out. The cocktail lounge was a bustle of mixed chatter which played along discontentedly with the absence of any music. We were in a long hall with a blue tile floor and golden flowers on shiny light brown tables. The bar tenders were attentive, and along with the assisted telling of my parents that I was under age, I was sure they'd ask me for identification. This left my plans of drinking for the evening null and void. I grabbed a small plate of eggplant parmesan and a cut of beef. I walked back to the table and got settled, realizing that I had forgotten a fork. After another trip, and a quick pondering about the absence of alcohol in my life, I sank back into my seat and wolfed down the plate. I had picked up this weird blue drink with fruit punch, dry ice and a cherry. The drink was alright. Sure as hell wasn't no substitute for a great big bottle of cold wine. A little while past and I took a picture at the request of the traveling photographer passing out table by every few minutes. I wanted to stretch but my dress cloths were too tight, as they always are, and my shoes were too small, like dress shoes always are. There was a fake fish tank full of plastic organisms and plants all around it. Caught me off guard at first. There's a faint booming coming from some curtains to our right as some woman in a tux waltz' up to us and instructs us the main room and dance floor are open. I get up to feel the creamy brush of swamp-ass as the heat begins to hit me now. I walk along this white curtain upon the wall to avoid stepping through some people's conversations. And we're onto the main room. I instantly recognize a flow of cool air which takes me over almost instantly. The music is louder now and unhelpful, teamed with the small headache that the heat had previously caused. Another DJ. I hate DJs. Cheaply hired, they blast over-rung beats so all the drunken thirty-year old women in the room, all with the same haircut and ideal social media profiles, can get up and wobble like rum-fiends on the dance floor. This obsession which drives them to drink is no stranger in my mind. And while they have the ability to order drinks as they please, one year away from being twenty one leaves me at quite the disadvantage. Luckily, there sits in front of me, a glass of champagne, only half filled, with five unoccupied seats around me and no one to finish the bubbling goodness of those glasses. So, one by one I poured them all into my drink, filling up the champagne till I was holding a pleasing amount. I threw my head back and caught a chunk of fresh air which freed me from my slumber. My breath was quick and hastily executed, almost as if I had ceased breathing while unconscious. Stars are all around me as this force, Droth, moaned in displeasure at my struggle for escape. This being longed to enter me. To take control of my mind for purposes which were beyond me. And with all my might I wouldn’t let it! It was through visions that He manipulated mankind. I say ‘He’. Not ‘it’ or ‘that’ or some other third thing to describe the presence He presented. It was just ‘Him’. A final and absolute to everything. The God, if you will; And in this darkness I sat as all that was around me was void. In the blackness of space he sat as my parallel, peering into my core. My soul and the nothingness that made me up. His glare was indifferent; And this place in which He had brought me was one of unrest, and yet I felt sedated. I was away from the world and outside an area of time which I could recognize. Home was a distant thought as this presence emanated and took me over. The cabin, the lake, the woods; All of it had gone now and only the complete indifference of this essence out of the ethos was with me now. Within me now. In this instance I was bigger than the sunos any start from here to infinity. Molecules were the insignificant makeup of a futile existence which only spiraled to one day cease to exist. In a moment I saw the universe and Him; And He was everything. I though nothing of my brother and his death, or the life I had left behind. Only He was true. He was injured, longing for a return to a place where I could be his entirety. Where I could be his parallel as he would walk in my skin. He wanted a return, back to the place of his birth and an escape from the valley of shadows we equally inhabited. He was strong, and as He attempted to convince me of his sincerity, my doubts vanished as if removed by a drug of some sort. Everything was water and space became liquid. I fell asleep to it’s vibrations as my eyes drew a tunneled vision. I sunk into slumber, and alongside Him I did slip back into this world. He followed. When I came to for the second time I could feel him with me. I was back on the lake and I was floating just barley atop the waters. The lake was motionless and the water stayed still in the moonlight. My lower body was still as He held me up. Through the lake and parallel reflection of the plane beside our own, he did begin to disperse. Out from the light and water He came, pressing out from the rift-less black and out into thee cloudy night sky. Peace of the heart became a scream of insanity as He was released upon the world. This being from another place, this sentience from another time; It was loose in our world. A dangerous thing, indeed. As the dimension from which it had transported us had closed up like a dark curtain. The form of the water changed from an ice gleam and into a cold ripple. He had taken to the forest and begun to surge through the land, traveling to find others like myself. Batteries to feed his cycle of ecstasy. He moved like wind and grasped at mater which harsh attachment. If it could be felt it could be manipulated, and across the rocky mountains He raced, absorbing the history of the land and data which designated within him. I felt this strength growing. He swept over beavers and deer and squirrels and chipmunks and things like that; Absorbing life. Collecting that stuff that made up souls. He was an Irk. That place from which he had escaped was a prison. And from his procession of me, we were tied together. I was the avatar of Him and He existed here because I had too. It was almost unexplainable how an entity, trapped within the reflection of a lake, coveted my soul. Never could I have imagined myself serving as vessel to those forces which I had previously never shed a thought for. But now, He tarnished the land and the death of my brother began to take me over as He branched out more and more; Allowing his hold on me to cease. The image of my brother’s body revealed itself one last time as I knew what I was to do to prevent His presence in this world. For my brother and for the safety of all those who call this planet home, He had to die. In turn, I had to die with him. He believed he had bonded to a perfect host. One without logic or reasoning enough to realize the intensions of a beast from a ball of fire on a lake made from the stars. I was sending Him back, with no chance of returning. I could see how he played dormant. With the state of the lake and the seclusion of this abode, this was holy ground. Or, perhaps even more than that. A prison for the otherworldly. A lake of pyre which held the very essence of a flame. A foul soul from a time lost and forgotten. It was into that forgotten passage which I was ready to return unto. And as I lied back and took my first swallow of the water, my feet only left the floating surface of the water once He had felt my life draining. With each breath of liquid he died, more and more. I drank the lake in heavy breaths as my lungs filled. I choked and gagged, but stuck at it. Drowning myself agonizingly. His soul sunk back into the lake as his fire died and his essence over the woods was subsiding. I opened my eyes for a moment as he rushed through me to find an escape. There was none, and within that lake I drowned myself, taking Him with me. As we returned to that void together, it struck me. This separation of sorts. As I flew backward into nothingness this black prism of space began to run white, like milk in water, the gleaming took over and a box began to enclose around me. I could feel him no more as all of his being fled from my core, returning mw to a fragile state. I believed myself to be dead, passing through layers of time which I had previously turned blindly upon. falling through time, these layers formed a box and here I was imprisoned. I felt nothing and the world outside these walls did not exist. Did I kill god? Is this all that is left of humanity? Did I destroy a force, able to keep the universe in form, and had I destroyed the form-keeper, reducing space and time into white walls of conscious-less absence?! Shock hit me as I collapsed to the ground. There was nothing around me but this prison. This white room within which I was trapped. And so I will remained trapped, until, perhaps, the absence of the void which placed me here is born again; And cycles in the new forms of creation. In turn, pulling back to a place of space and comprehensible time. Until that day, lost I remain among the starts. Look up and see me not, for I do not see you.