Justice
Copyright - 2/3/96
They walk the beat and keep the peace
They right wrongs and put crime away
When life deals its unpleasantness
Criminals go indefinitely free.
Men and women here to help
Arresting circumstances nonchalant
Spit on and misunderstood
Putting away all those hoods.
When the justice system sets them free
Criminals roam the streets
Judges and lawyers on the take
No justice, criminals on the make.
Served with a warrant daily
Police are just doing their job
Lock up and central crime retrieves
Criminals rule and no one believes.
Cops try to preserve our peace
Look at all the things they put up with
Shot, Stabbed, the chase is on
Time to put away all the cons.
Name calling they have allowed
Letting it roll off their backs
Resisting arrest cons try to get away
"Halt, police," they may say.
For every criminal they put up
One gets out on technicality
No one is perfect even the highest judge
Criminals get caught and hold a grudge.
Murder, rape, assault and the like
Cops take them off the street
We can help and get involved
Or else none of us will live to evolve.
A personal blog with my horror/sci-fi poems, short stories, heavy metal lyrics and personal posts.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Judicial Trespass
Copyright: 2/18/96
Judicial Trespass
Does the innocent and trail?
Could he be in denial?
Rising, the gorge of bile.
Does the man really believe?
That there is no retrieve
Can he willingly leave?
Is he insane or just smart?
Can he live? Does he have heart?
Death would be a good start.
Is the man guilty of murder?
Did he? He know no further
Beating the odds, it's absurd.
Did he run because of guilt?
Adhering to him like silt
Death reigns the house he built.
Does he go away scot-free?
Can't the judge and jury see?
Freedom for race is key.
Does he plead not guilty?
Is it the way it should be?
Why is he now very free?
He knows more than is settled
With the public mind he has mettled
Our own coffin has he nailed?
Does he protect someone close?
Someone loves and admire most
Someone who may come and boast.
Trail was over before it began
Herds of lawyers doing what they can
Should of been convicted, he ran.
Does hatred, anger and prejudice rule us?
Or is it doing what it can and must?
Life and death reasoning or bust.
Can move on past skin color?
White, black, rich, poor rapes the door
Can we survive? Can't take anymore.
Was the man let go because of stardom?
Or was it fate that granted a pardon?
Or was he just second to none?
Did the jury make the right decision?
Or did they release a killer, what may come?
Judicial trespass guilt's through and done.
Judicial trespass overlooking
Innocence bares looking
Judicial trespass forgetting
Judicial trespass unbelieving
Judicial Trespass
Does the innocent and trail?
Could he be in denial?
Rising, the gorge of bile.
Does the man really believe?
That there is no retrieve
Can he willingly leave?
Is he insane or just smart?
Can he live? Does he have heart?
Death would be a good start.
Is the man guilty of murder?
Did he? He know no further
Beating the odds, it's absurd.
Did he run because of guilt?
Adhering to him like silt
Death reigns the house he built.
Does he go away scot-free?
Can't the judge and jury see?
Freedom for race is key.
Does he plead not guilty?
Is it the way it should be?
Why is he now very free?
He knows more than is settled
With the public mind he has mettled
Our own coffin has he nailed?
Does he protect someone close?
Someone loves and admire most
Someone who may come and boast.
Trail was over before it began
Herds of lawyers doing what they can
Should of been convicted, he ran.
Does hatred, anger and prejudice rule us?
Or is it doing what it can and must?
Life and death reasoning or bust.
Can move on past skin color?
White, black, rich, poor rapes the door
Can we survive? Can't take anymore.
Was the man let go because of stardom?
Or was it fate that granted a pardon?
Or was he just second to none?
Did the jury make the right decision?
Or did they release a killer, what may come?
Judicial trespass guilt's through and done.
Judicial trespass overlooking
Innocence bares looking
Judicial trespass forgetting
Judicial trespass unbelieving
Innocence Plea
Copyright: 9/6/92
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Innocence Plea
Live and die for your country, that's what they inbred in your brainwashed mind
War and peace are one in the same, their chains hold you, dotted line signed
Hurry up and wait to die, your ass in Uncle Sam's purgatorious sling
Hell knows no boundaries in world war conflict, madness is undoubtedly king.
Torpedoed by the Japanese sub, blood and life on the line
Ship sinking fast, the salt water gushes over the bow, knowing not what you will find
Eight-hundred eighty-three men washed into the roaring confines of sea
Three-hundred men and a lonely captain left to forget, innocence plea.
Militaristic gods got to put the blame on someone
They ruin one man's life for the hell of it, under the gun.
Shark infested waters breed the black death of unforgettable, lashing teeth
Bloodshed and hallucinogenic insanity for five days, swimming to mirages within the keep
Soldiers ripped in half, your best friend bobbing lifeless in the blink of an eye
How can the military prove innocence guilty, and stand behind all the lies.
General quart-martial proceedings for the captain goes as they had planned
The Hiroshima bomb delivered, all of the U.S. weapons now left unmanned
Busted rank and broken dreams fills his nightmares, no impending solution
Cut-weighed, browbeaten, and defeated by the imperialistic government, horrid conclusion.
Militaristic gods got to put the blame on someone
They ruin one man's life for the hell of it, under the gun.
Flashbacks and ghastly memories of this sea tragedy would not fade
The captain, in his agony, lived by circumstantial mean the military made
Growing harder each morning to face one more depressed hell-ridden day
Nothing left of a once heroic man, drowning in confusion, what could he do or say?
Bright and early the man walks out on his front porch and draws a breath of fresh air
Lays down on the steps with his military charms in hand, and puts the gun to his ear
Here he lies, hopeless and still since his suicide set him free
A man of honor and dignity, gropes for the justice of innocence plea.
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Innocence Plea
Live and die for your country, that's what they inbred in your brainwashed mind
War and peace are one in the same, their chains hold you, dotted line signed
Hurry up and wait to die, your ass in Uncle Sam's purgatorious sling
Hell knows no boundaries in world war conflict, madness is undoubtedly king.
Torpedoed by the Japanese sub, blood and life on the line
Ship sinking fast, the salt water gushes over the bow, knowing not what you will find
Eight-hundred eighty-three men washed into the roaring confines of sea
Three-hundred men and a lonely captain left to forget, innocence plea.
Militaristic gods got to put the blame on someone
They ruin one man's life for the hell of it, under the gun.
Shark infested waters breed the black death of unforgettable, lashing teeth
Bloodshed and hallucinogenic insanity for five days, swimming to mirages within the keep
Soldiers ripped in half, your best friend bobbing lifeless in the blink of an eye
How can the military prove innocence guilty, and stand behind all the lies.
General quart-martial proceedings for the captain goes as they had planned
The Hiroshima bomb delivered, all of the U.S. weapons now left unmanned
Busted rank and broken dreams fills his nightmares, no impending solution
Cut-weighed, browbeaten, and defeated by the imperialistic government, horrid conclusion.
Militaristic gods got to put the blame on someone
They ruin one man's life for the hell of it, under the gun.
Flashbacks and ghastly memories of this sea tragedy would not fade
The captain, in his agony, lived by circumstantial mean the military made
Growing harder each morning to face one more depressed hell-ridden day
Nothing left of a once heroic man, drowning in confusion, what could he do or say?
Bright and early the man walks out on his front porch and draws a breath of fresh air
Lays down on the steps with his military charms in hand, and puts the gun to his ear
Here he lies, hopeless and still since his suicide set him free
A man of honor and dignity, gropes for the justice of innocence plea.
Induction
Induction
Copyright - 2/12/96
The war is on in our lonely, complicated streets
Drugs run rampant, our children a collective high
Is there an end? How do we begin?
Gangs are children, misdirected born to die
Drugs take over but we don't register the defeat.
Wandering through life in a drug induced haze
Drugs make life pass you by and you fail
Is there any time? Do we have reason or rhyme?
Lying in a gutter addicted and totally frail
Children robbing and stealing in a drug craze.
Where are the dealers who get our kids hooked?
Drugs make strange bedfellows, infected needles
Is there a point? Do we rid ourselves and anoint?
Our children taken hostage in the midst of drug sales
All together our kids and the parents are crooked.
Vital signs dwindle away on the drug block
Pay the piper scores become certain death
Is there relief? How doe we keep our beliefs?
Watch our children die, take our last breath
Time runs out, our children live by the drug clock.
Businessmen snorting their lives ambitiously away
Arraigning their own death sentence they produce
Is there a life? Should we all fly like a kite?
Our lives become little to nothing, support the noose
Time to clean up, the inevitable time is today.
Sucking on addiction the junkie pays for crack
Unable to decipher between right and wrong
Is there somebody? Can't they see?
Things don't fix themselves, same old song
Dealers live for the money, serious stash.
Drugs do not solve problems, they create
If we keep moving this way life will cease
Is there a cure? Can we be sure?
Taste the poison and become deceased
Ridden with disease make your own death date.
Copyright - 2/12/96
The war is on in our lonely, complicated streets
Drugs run rampant, our children a collective high
Is there an end? How do we begin?
Gangs are children, misdirected born to die
Drugs take over but we don't register the defeat.
Wandering through life in a drug induced haze
Drugs make life pass you by and you fail
Is there any time? Do we have reason or rhyme?
Lying in a gutter addicted and totally frail
Children robbing and stealing in a drug craze.
Where are the dealers who get our kids hooked?
Drugs make strange bedfellows, infected needles
Is there a point? Do we rid ourselves and anoint?
Our children taken hostage in the midst of drug sales
All together our kids and the parents are crooked.
Vital signs dwindle away on the drug block
Pay the piper scores become certain death
Is there relief? How doe we keep our beliefs?
Watch our children die, take our last breath
Time runs out, our children live by the drug clock.
Businessmen snorting their lives ambitiously away
Arraigning their own death sentence they produce
Is there a life? Should we all fly like a kite?
Our lives become little to nothing, support the noose
Time to clean up, the inevitable time is today.
Sucking on addiction the junkie pays for crack
Unable to decipher between right and wrong
Is there somebody? Can't they see?
Things don't fix themselves, same old song
Dealers live for the money, serious stash.
Drugs do not solve problems, they create
If we keep moving this way life will cease
Is there a cure? Can we be sure?
Taste the poison and become deceased
Ridden with disease make your own death date.
In Your Reality
Copyright: 12\26\98
In Your Reality
(chorus)
In your reality I don't exist
In your reality I can't persist
In your reality I can't be free
In your reality, no hope for me.
In your reality there is a God
In your reality a demon's pod
In your reality revolving around you
In your reality time's step anew.
Giving into your everyday examples
Of life, learning, family and happiness
I walk the road of a stranger
Who looks through the glass, and I'm pissed.
(bridge)
All you can see in your own shitty way
Is the peace of mind your reality shattered today.
Reality believes no realm
When you devour the lever
Happiness is a fate less known
When you plight the endeavor
Reality imposes upon imagination
And sanity becomes suspect
Kindness lands on my deaf ears
As your reality fills the deck.
(repeat bridge)
(repeat chorus)
In Your Reality
(chorus)
In your reality I don't exist
In your reality I can't persist
In your reality I can't be free
In your reality, no hope for me.
In your reality there is a God
In your reality a demon's pod
In your reality revolving around you
In your reality time's step anew.
Giving into your everyday examples
Of life, learning, family and happiness
I walk the road of a stranger
Who looks through the glass, and I'm pissed.
(bridge)
All you can see in your own shitty way
Is the peace of mind your reality shattered today.
Reality believes no realm
When you devour the lever
Happiness is a fate less known
When you plight the endeavor
Reality imposes upon imagination
And sanity becomes suspect
Kindness lands on my deaf ears
As your reality fills the deck.
(repeat bridge)
(repeat chorus)
In the Jungle
Copyright: 2/14/96
In the Jungle
In the heat
Birds’ call
Struggling vines retract
And monkeys fall.
Hot and humid
Amongst animals
The tiger is swift
Toward a wild foe.
Snakes and alligators
Rove with respect
Rain falls silently
Droplets erect.
Beautiful blooming flowers
Darken the sky
Small animals feed
Nothing to say.
Tigers ignore
Prey at times
Trees weep and sway
Fleeting the rhyme.
In the jungle
Different species
Operate the earth
How it should be.
Animals we've never seen
Hide and run
They're strange
Lapsed the sun.
Sounds unusual
Rent the air
We are fools
Animals play our dare.
Season's crest not
Stay's the same
No cold or snow
Relieve the game.
In this African retreat
No one speaks
In this enormous jungle
Moments are not dull.
In the Jungle
In the heat
Birds’ call
Struggling vines retract
And monkeys fall.
Hot and humid
Amongst animals
The tiger is swift
Toward a wild foe.
Snakes and alligators
Rove with respect
Rain falls silently
Droplets erect.
Beautiful blooming flowers
Darken the sky
Small animals feed
Nothing to say.
Tigers ignore
Prey at times
Trees weep and sway
Fleeting the rhyme.
In the jungle
Different species
Operate the earth
How it should be.
Animals we've never seen
Hide and run
They're strange
Lapsed the sun.
Sounds unusual
Rent the air
We are fools
Animals play our dare.
Season's crest not
Stay's the same
No cold or snow
Relieve the game.
In this African retreat
No one speaks
In this enormous jungle
Moments are not dull.
In Darkness My Friend
In Darkness My Friend
Written: 8/8/98
In darkness my friend you will mistakenly find me
For in darkness I dwell
In darkness my friend you will forever be my lover
For in darkness I take.
In darkness my friend nights seem somehow shorter
For in darkness I move
In darkness my friend life becomes a shape shifter
For in darkness I shift.
In darkness my friend I devour your life's blood
For in darkness I feed
In darkness my friend human blood pumps heartier
For in darkness I hunt.
In darkness my friend I find your precious, soft neck
For in darkness fangs glisten
In darkness my friend heartbeats become sure and sour
For in darkness I taste.
In darkness my friend life escapes this brutal twisted reality
For in darkness I drink
In darkness my friend ecstasy drains me to insanity
For in darkness I live.
In darkness my friend I must make my own sordid peace
For in darkness I hunger
In darkness my friend I must bid thee death farewell
For in darkness I am.
Written: 8/8/98
In darkness my friend you will mistakenly find me
For in darkness I dwell
In darkness my friend you will forever be my lover
For in darkness I take.
In darkness my friend nights seem somehow shorter
For in darkness I move
In darkness my friend life becomes a shape shifter
For in darkness I shift.
In darkness my friend I devour your life's blood
For in darkness I feed
In darkness my friend human blood pumps heartier
For in darkness I hunt.
In darkness my friend I find your precious, soft neck
For in darkness fangs glisten
In darkness my friend heartbeats become sure and sour
For in darkness I taste.
In darkness my friend life escapes this brutal twisted reality
For in darkness I drink
In darkness my friend ecstasy drains me to insanity
For in darkness I live.
In darkness my friend I must make my own sordid peace
For in darkness I hunger
In darkness my friend I must bid thee death farewell
For in darkness I am.
In Agony
In Agony
Written - 01/24/99
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot make this pain stop
And if I could take my life
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is make the hurting
Go far away as the birds do
And give strength to overcome
This violent sickness from within.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot realize my own destiny
And if I could take notice
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the moon''s light
Does not shine upon me this night
And give me a reprieve from hell
A reprieve from deadly sin.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot see or think with clear visions
And if I could implore my humanity
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the smell of fresh blood
Does not move me into the darkened streets
And settle me down with another victim
But a man must kill to eat.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot taste the sour path laid before me
And if I could soften my palate
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is this freak power doesn't maul
My life into nothing and give me death
'Tis the time for demon doings
In this belittled market of meat.
Written - 01/24/99
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot make this pain stop
And if I could take my life
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is make the hurting
Go far away as the birds do
And give strength to overcome
This violent sickness from within.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot realize my own destiny
And if I could take notice
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the moon''s light
Does not shine upon me this night
And give me a reprieve from hell
A reprieve from deadly sin.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot see or think with clear visions
And if I could implore my humanity
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the smell of fresh blood
Does not move me into the darkened streets
And settle me down with another victim
But a man must kill to eat.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot taste the sour path laid before me
And if I could soften my palate
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is this freak power doesn't maul
My life into nothing and give me death
'Tis the time for demon doings
In this belittled market of meat.
Immortal Bite
Immortal Bite
Written - 03/10/99
Come one, come all and live a demon's life
See the starvation and the need to be free
From deprivation and all of the things since
That has definitely startled thee.
Alas, the bite is the worst, for it knows no bounds
And the man becomes an animal, caged inside
From all the timeless wonders he must now share
With the werewolf, he must now collide.
The immortal bite is a vicious bite
For it has no realms to enforce its nature
And it has no specialized selection
The man can only succumb to its rites.
Ripping and tearing the motion subdues
Even the hardest human to ever walk the earth
In pride and with absence of rebirth
The man is no more, hell fire he now spews.
From a tiny immortal coil the bite blazes
Into the very depths of a man''s soul
And as the blood travels to the heart again
The man becomes enraged and crazed.
Animal instinct takes thoughtfully over
As the man fights with his internal attacker
Hell has never been so relieved
As this man tonight without cover.
What is happening to me? He says
In an attempt at humanity once again
The man knows right from wrong
But will not decipher, at the moon he bays.
Written - 03/10/99
Come one, come all and live a demon's life
See the starvation and the need to be free
From deprivation and all of the things since
That has definitely startled thee.
Alas, the bite is the worst, for it knows no bounds
And the man becomes an animal, caged inside
From all the timeless wonders he must now share
With the werewolf, he must now collide.
The immortal bite is a vicious bite
For it has no realms to enforce its nature
And it has no specialized selection
The man can only succumb to its rites.
Ripping and tearing the motion subdues
Even the hardest human to ever walk the earth
In pride and with absence of rebirth
The man is no more, hell fire he now spews.
From a tiny immortal coil the bite blazes
Into the very depths of a man''s soul
And as the blood travels to the heart again
The man becomes enraged and crazed.
Animal instinct takes thoughtfully over
As the man fights with his internal attacker
Hell has never been so relieved
As this man tonight without cover.
What is happening to me? He says
In an attempt at humanity once again
The man knows right from wrong
But will not decipher, at the moon he bays.
Howling
Howling
Written - 04/20/99
The moon rises in the night air
For it ''tis midnight, the hour of evil
A man walks to himself down a dark street
And shifts through thoughts of the last
As he whistles softly a saintly tune
He hears footsteps indefinitely behind him
And he stops for his heart pumps too loud
The vial of the hourglass descends
And the man senses his dying mistake
As the wolf springs from nowhere and everywhere.
Fighting to gain his life in his own hands
The man swears under his dying breath
For does he know this evil, dark being
Wrapped tight around his pale throat
He catches a whiff of flowers in bloom
And it''s too late he is weak and tired
For this monster has wrestled with his strength
And he feels no more the pain of death
Laying about the ground in an awful fright
Praying for his soul but making no demands.
The blood pumps furiously and subsides
Has the man lost his life and death struggle?
His weakened heart gives way to the beast
And he ceases to move as the light fades
Hearing slowly fades away until in a bubble
And the man thinks his last thoughts
Darkness descends in his now feeble mind
As he passes on he could swear hearing
The high piercing howl of a wolf nearby
But instead decides it is his own inept cries.
Written - 04/20/99
The moon rises in the night air
For it ''tis midnight, the hour of evil
A man walks to himself down a dark street
And shifts through thoughts of the last
As he whistles softly a saintly tune
He hears footsteps indefinitely behind him
And he stops for his heart pumps too loud
The vial of the hourglass descends
And the man senses his dying mistake
As the wolf springs from nowhere and everywhere.
Fighting to gain his life in his own hands
The man swears under his dying breath
For does he know this evil, dark being
Wrapped tight around his pale throat
He catches a whiff of flowers in bloom
And it''s too late he is weak and tired
For this monster has wrestled with his strength
And he feels no more the pain of death
Laying about the ground in an awful fright
Praying for his soul but making no demands.
The blood pumps furiously and subsides
Has the man lost his life and death struggle?
His weakened heart gives way to the beast
And he ceases to move as the light fades
Hearing slowly fades away until in a bubble
And the man thinks his last thoughts
Darkness descends in his now feeble mind
As he passes on he could swear hearing
The high piercing howl of a wolf nearby
But instead decides it is his own inept cries.
Hibernation
Written: 10/19/92
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Hibernation
I stalk my awaiting victims in the obscurity of a moonlit night
Easy prey, I crouch down in the shadows and stay well out of sight
I watch them intently from the protection of my ghastly hiding place
Careful not to make a sound, they squirm, and scream, but they don't see my face.
I thrive on spilled blood, and gouging out their insides with my carving knife
I get a thrill out of piercing their jugglers and taking their menial, mundane lives
I'm calm, cool, and collected, a cold, calculated killer on the loose
I escape certain death, near-misses with the law, avoiding the noose.
I skin my prey, or sometimes I just leave them for dead to bleed
A serial killer, homicidal, cannibalistic fiend, bloodshed's all I need
I may wear a mask, I may roam the streets searching for my next kill
I can be the most normal person you know, a next-door neighbor looking for a thrill.
(chorus)
Now I lay waiting in the dark for you
I'm strong and merciless, nothing you can do
Just a few seconds, your life's over and done
Now I must leave where they can't find me, hibernation.
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Hibernation
I stalk my awaiting victims in the obscurity of a moonlit night
Easy prey, I crouch down in the shadows and stay well out of sight
I watch them intently from the protection of my ghastly hiding place
Careful not to make a sound, they squirm, and scream, but they don't see my face.
I thrive on spilled blood, and gouging out their insides with my carving knife
I get a thrill out of piercing their jugglers and taking their menial, mundane lives
I'm calm, cool, and collected, a cold, calculated killer on the loose
I escape certain death, near-misses with the law, avoiding the noose.
I skin my prey, or sometimes I just leave them for dead to bleed
A serial killer, homicidal, cannibalistic fiend, bloodshed's all I need
I may wear a mask, I may roam the streets searching for my next kill
I can be the most normal person you know, a next-door neighbor looking for a thrill.
(chorus)
Now I lay waiting in the dark for you
I'm strong and merciless, nothing you can do
Just a few seconds, your life's over and done
Now I must leave where they can't find me, hibernation.
Hearts Of Violence
Copyright: 2/14/96
Hearts of Violence
It's in the streets
It's in our world
It's in our minds
It's in our souls.
Redemption come once
Redemption comes not at all
It's in the past
It's in our goals.
It's inside our heads
It's inside our needs
It's inside our government
It's inside our hearts.
Renewal comes never
Renewal will not be
It's not our life
It's not our part.
It's unwelcome at home
It's unwelcome on streets
It's unwelcome in minds
It's unwelcome in souls.
Violence rules all
Violence will be the death
It's not our time
It's not our soul.
Hearts of Violence
It's in the streets
It's in our world
It's in our minds
It's in our souls.
Redemption come once
Redemption comes not at all
It's in the past
It's in our goals.
It's inside our heads
It's inside our needs
It's inside our government
It's inside our hearts.
Renewal comes never
Renewal will not be
It's not our life
It's not our part.
It's unwelcome at home
It's unwelcome on streets
It's unwelcome in minds
It's unwelcome in souls.
Violence rules all
Violence will be the death
It's not our time
It's not our soul.
Guardian
Copyright: 2/14/96
Guardian
Floating unguarded through the mist
A figure serene and unhappy
Unknowing of the present future
Tense past the shade he roams
Spirits sway in the afterlife
A ghost drifts through our world
Does he know where he is?
Unbelieving eyes cease to see
Blinded by fury and anger
Apparitions float freely worldly
Light and darkness comb its rights
As the darkness grows oh so dim
The limbo retreats and they speak
Guardian of life where it 'tis.
Smokey existence communicate mentally
No words penetrate it strongly
A shade shaving life's folds
Deceased and moldy he shows
How life lives the other side
Making contact, needing and wanting
Does he know how he is?
Loneliness is not terribly far from the truth
A ghost, misunderstood guides himself
Looking for loved ones long past
Living a lie, he knows nothing
Haunting those who humanly exist
Searching the house at night
Guardian of death where it 'tis.
Hovering above life so gentle
A failure to himself and man
Scaring life's wits out of men
Shifting uncompromising evil
Stuck in between two worlds
Eagle eye view to misconception
Does he see and believe?
Knowing he's dead is hard enough
Lonesome and peering the rift
Pealing thoughts from his mind
Everywhere and nowhere he lurks
Stolen his lost love in the curtain
Pain and grief shift delight
Can his soul he retrieve?
Guardian of time and light
Shade of night and swift
He rides the evening straight and full
Drifting out of house and home
Attending the obsession through death
Riding the breeze making evil
Can he manage to relieve?
Mania drives him into phobia
Unreal circumstances reside within
A ghost searching for his past
Rendering himself unconscious
Knowledge knows no bounds
Cast out and exorcised from life
Can he fall and reprieve?
Space and time keep him no more
For he has gone to keep glory
If he finds his only home
Will he forever and ever roam?
Keeping death out extreme end
Will his life's blood become on mend?
Soaring to the place he belongs
Knowing a shade in the wrong
Fleeing from limbo un-existed
Waking, a dream, sordid and twisted.
Guardian
Floating unguarded through the mist
A figure serene and unhappy
Unknowing of the present future
Tense past the shade he roams
Spirits sway in the afterlife
A ghost drifts through our world
Does he know where he is?
Unbelieving eyes cease to see
Blinded by fury and anger
Apparitions float freely worldly
Light and darkness comb its rights
As the darkness grows oh so dim
The limbo retreats and they speak
Guardian of life where it 'tis.
Smokey existence communicate mentally
No words penetrate it strongly
A shade shaving life's folds
Deceased and moldy he shows
How life lives the other side
Making contact, needing and wanting
Does he know how he is?
Loneliness is not terribly far from the truth
A ghost, misunderstood guides himself
Looking for loved ones long past
Living a lie, he knows nothing
Haunting those who humanly exist
Searching the house at night
Guardian of death where it 'tis.
Hovering above life so gentle
A failure to himself and man
Scaring life's wits out of men
Shifting uncompromising evil
Stuck in between two worlds
Eagle eye view to misconception
Does he see and believe?
Knowing he's dead is hard enough
Lonesome and peering the rift
Pealing thoughts from his mind
Everywhere and nowhere he lurks
Stolen his lost love in the curtain
Pain and grief shift delight
Can his soul he retrieve?
Guardian of time and light
Shade of night and swift
He rides the evening straight and full
Drifting out of house and home
Attending the obsession through death
Riding the breeze making evil
Can he manage to relieve?
Mania drives him into phobia
Unreal circumstances reside within
A ghost searching for his past
Rendering himself unconscious
Knowledge knows no bounds
Cast out and exorcised from life
Can he fall and reprieve?
Space and time keep him no more
For he has gone to keep glory
If he finds his only home
Will he forever and ever roam?
Keeping death out extreme end
Will his life's blood become on mend?
Soaring to the place he belongs
Knowing a shade in the wrong
Fleeing from limbo un-existed
Waking, a dream, sordid and twisted.
Genetic Mismatch
Copyright: 2/19/96
Genetic Mismatch
Zoned to the unrecognizable
Cloned from the indisputable.
Genetic materials signal
Pathetic genesis retrieves and kill.
Tidy sums brought to the amount
Mighty men keep genetic count.
Engineering alternative life forms
Damaging life's uniforms.
Make something never before seen
Break existence that they bring.
Unfortunate tidings unkind to all
Torture lids the living on call.
Life breaded from genetics
Strife imbedded with kick.
Men, women, children saddled safe
Sin, passion, evil up to date.
Allow normal life to take course
Now genetics take life to divorce.
Humans and animals once extinct
Now live together succinctly.
Bringing back things long past
Infringing on culture to the last.
Genetics the undoing of us all
Demented scientist believing the fall.
Genetic Mismatch
Zoned to the unrecognizable
Cloned from the indisputable.
Genetic materials signal
Pathetic genesis retrieves and kill.
Tidy sums brought to the amount
Mighty men keep genetic count.
Engineering alternative life forms
Damaging life's uniforms.
Make something never before seen
Break existence that they bring.
Unfortunate tidings unkind to all
Torture lids the living on call.
Life breaded from genetics
Strife imbedded with kick.
Men, women, children saddled safe
Sin, passion, evil up to date.
Allow normal life to take course
Now genetics take life to divorce.
Humans and animals once extinct
Now live together succinctly.
Bringing back things long past
Infringing on culture to the last.
Genetics the undoing of us all
Demented scientist believing the fall.
Fraying the Ends of Sanity
Fraying the Ends of Sanity
As he wakes the beast is gone
And what of his feats as an animal
What did he do?
He slumbers in the underbrush
But realizes not how he got there
The man blinks back the tears
Have the insane and remembering his fears.
As he stands he notices his apparel
Why is it gone and where did he put it?
What did he do?
He slinks back into the bushes
Looking for what is truly his
The man mumbles to himself frantically
Fraying his ends of sanity.
He descends into the deepest depths
Of his crippled mind and finds out
What he did do
He slouches into a fetal ball
Moaning all the while in corruption of pain
Crying he finds his dirtied clothes
What he's done, he now knows.
Flashbacks of a night of killing come into view
And the man covers his bloodshot eyes
Why did he do it?
Answers come none too soon or easy
Sobbing now with pathetic grief
And willing himself dead for the life he owns
But for now he just lays for hours and moans.
Self-pity and wallowing distrust govern him
And the man covers his naked body
What has he done?
To deserve this life in everlasting hell
Bleeding for the cause and feeling nothing
Puts on his best smile hiding himself completely
And riding the fraying ends of sanity.
As he wakes the beast is gone
And what of his feats as an animal
What did he do?
He slumbers in the underbrush
But realizes not how he got there
The man blinks back the tears
Have the insane and remembering his fears.
As he stands he notices his apparel
Why is it gone and where did he put it?
What did he do?
He slinks back into the bushes
Looking for what is truly his
The man mumbles to himself frantically
Fraying his ends of sanity.
He descends into the deepest depths
Of his crippled mind and finds out
What he did do
He slouches into a fetal ball
Moaning all the while in corruption of pain
Crying he finds his dirtied clothes
What he's done, he now knows.
Flashbacks of a night of killing come into view
And the man covers his bloodshot eyes
Why did he do it?
Answers come none too soon or easy
Sobbing now with pathetic grief
And willing himself dead for the life he owns
But for now he just lays for hours and moans.
Self-pity and wallowing distrust govern him
And the man covers his naked body
What has he done?
To deserve this life in everlasting hell
Bleeding for the cause and feeling nothing
Puts on his best smile hiding himself completely
And riding the fraying ends of sanity.
Forever
Copyright: 2/18/98
Forever
I know you
I watched you die
Writhe and scream
In pain you now lie.
Faith is little
My bloodbath mends me
Hopeless and unaware
Now I clearly see.
(chorus)
With an axe
Or a gun
Maybe a knife
It's forever done.
(chorus #2)
With a saw
Or hammer
Maybe a bet
Never the slammer.
Your skin befalls you
I watched you bleed
Drop by drop
Quenched my needs
Broken and battered
You live no more
Lifeless lump
I'll settle the score.
(chorus #2)
Forever
I know you
I watched you die
Writhe and scream
In pain you now lie.
Faith is little
My bloodbath mends me
Hopeless and unaware
Now I clearly see.
(chorus)
With an axe
Or a gun
Maybe a knife
It's forever done.
(chorus #2)
With a saw
Or hammer
Maybe a bet
Never the slammer.
Your skin befalls you
I watched you bleed
Drop by drop
Quenched my needs
Broken and battered
You live no more
Lifeless lump
I'll settle the score.
(chorus #2)
Fates Of The Heart
Copyright - 03/15/00
Fates of the Heart
Though the lover’s darkness holds no more
And am I the one to perish?
Under the dealt pressure of those before
Will our fates entwine to one?
Drought and nought will he begin to seek
And am I doomed to love failure?
Psychic link and almost utterly afraid to peek
At the splendor above the horizon.
Longing for his soft touch, a sigh, or kiss
And am I to wait impatiently?
Beginning our co-existing lives, cannot quit
Without putting up the fight.
Circumstances draw from the far to the near
And will he know it’s me?
Moments of silence, face to face and he’s here
Will I shudder and shrink?
Catching the very glimpse in his eyes
And knowing the time has come
He holds me tightly without goodbyes
Knowing our destinies are set.
Fates of the heart my lover comes nigh
And forgetting me not this day
Unspoken, un-uttered words and sighs
He is my fate for always.
Fates of the Heart
Though the lover’s darkness holds no more
And am I the one to perish?
Under the dealt pressure of those before
Will our fates entwine to one?
Drought and nought will he begin to seek
And am I doomed to love failure?
Psychic link and almost utterly afraid to peek
At the splendor above the horizon.
Longing for his soft touch, a sigh, or kiss
And am I to wait impatiently?
Beginning our co-existing lives, cannot quit
Without putting up the fight.
Circumstances draw from the far to the near
And will he know it’s me?
Moments of silence, face to face and he’s here
Will I shudder and shrink?
Catching the very glimpse in his eyes
And knowing the time has come
He holds me tightly without goodbyes
Knowing our destinies are set.
Fates of the heart my lover comes nigh
And forgetting me not this day
Unspoken, un-uttered words and sighs
He is my fate for always.
Extinction
Copyright: 2/19/96
Extinction
A land forgotten in time
A land foreign and unkind
A land of prehistoric finds
A land of dinosaur’s tribe.
Tall creatures warm and gentle
Large creatures ferocious fury hell
Medium creatures silent, deadly fell
Small creatures reconstructed for sale.
Gusting winds bring gentle rain
Jutting mountains range the same
Alert animals step up to the game
Vicious attacks feel no pain.
T-Rex wanders through the tops of trees
Raptors bring prey to their knees
Brontosaurs live happy and free
Eggs hatch into the world and can see.
A land time forgot
A land all for naught
A land should be taught
A land we couldn't stop.
Fast and cunning are some
Large and smart are one
Reptiles and birds are none
Prehistoric dinosaurs are done.
The hunt and the kill
The predator preys at will
Some say their fate is sealed
Just a dream or are they real?
No one man really knows their nature
But one thing you can be sure
They weren't cute, that's a lure
Dysfunction, distress is there a cure?
Animals roamed the earth before man
Sixty million years before first stand
A shame they are gone and can
Not return to live with man.
Extinction
A land forgotten in time
A land foreign and unkind
A land of prehistoric finds
A land of dinosaur’s tribe.
Tall creatures warm and gentle
Large creatures ferocious fury hell
Medium creatures silent, deadly fell
Small creatures reconstructed for sale.
Gusting winds bring gentle rain
Jutting mountains range the same
Alert animals step up to the game
Vicious attacks feel no pain.
T-Rex wanders through the tops of trees
Raptors bring prey to their knees
Brontosaurs live happy and free
Eggs hatch into the world and can see.
A land time forgot
A land all for naught
A land should be taught
A land we couldn't stop.
Fast and cunning are some
Large and smart are one
Reptiles and birds are none
Prehistoric dinosaurs are done.
The hunt and the kill
The predator preys at will
Some say their fate is sealed
Just a dream or are they real?
No one man really knows their nature
But one thing you can be sure
They weren't cute, that's a lure
Dysfunction, distress is there a cure?
Animals roamed the earth before man
Sixty million years before first stand
A shame they are gone and can
Not return to live with man.
Existence
Existence
Copyright - 1/25/96
Chaos in the streets
As the deprived child sweats
Standing in the eye of the beholder
Being brave and never bolder.
Chaos in the cities
Gangland reigns children's lives
Live or die its only resistance
Shoot or flee the only existence.
When a boy becomes a man
Does he strap a gun in his hands?
What does it take to be a man?
Is it religion, family or gang?
If he shoots, doesn't it make him guilty?
Is it peer pressure leading him astray?
Or is he merely looking the part and becoming prey?
A child's existence in this world
Is tougher than any existence
But a child should amount to more
Without drugs, gangs, violence and gore.
Chaos rules the boundaries
Gangs tell what and who
The eye of the storm grows
Gangsters reap what they sew.
Chaos knows no man
Young and rebelling against law
Killings and drive-by shootings
Only pain and suffering it brings.
When a child takes to the streets
Does he join a gang in spite?
What does it take to stay cool?
Is it drugs, gangs and hoods?
If the child drops books and chances a gun
Does he kick it with homeboys G-style for fun?
Why do we allow children to rule the city?
When do we stop to take pity?
A homeboy's existence on the streets
I tougher than any existence
But homeboys should be children first
To become a man to quench the thirst.
Copyright - 1/25/96
Chaos in the streets
As the deprived child sweats
Standing in the eye of the beholder
Being brave and never bolder.
Chaos in the cities
Gangland reigns children's lives
Live or die its only resistance
Shoot or flee the only existence.
When a boy becomes a man
Does he strap a gun in his hands?
What does it take to be a man?
Is it religion, family or gang?
If he shoots, doesn't it make him guilty?
Is it peer pressure leading him astray?
Or is he merely looking the part and becoming prey?
A child's existence in this world
Is tougher than any existence
But a child should amount to more
Without drugs, gangs, violence and gore.
Chaos rules the boundaries
Gangs tell what and who
The eye of the storm grows
Gangsters reap what they sew.
Chaos knows no man
Young and rebelling against law
Killings and drive-by shootings
Only pain and suffering it brings.
When a child takes to the streets
Does he join a gang in spite?
What does it take to stay cool?
Is it drugs, gangs and hoods?
If the child drops books and chances a gun
Does he kick it with homeboys G-style for fun?
Why do we allow children to rule the city?
When do we stop to take pity?
A homeboy's existence on the streets
I tougher than any existence
But homeboys should be children first
To become a man to quench the thirst.
Eternal Life
Eternal Life
Copyright: Demented Thinking Productions 1998
He relished the dark of the night. The unwanted sounds and feelings surrounding the beliefs that nighttime was evil and above all brought forth with the dark side of all mankind. The smell of dead dried leaves and old wispy branches filled his lungs to capacity. He moved silently for the most part, but completely unwarranted for the later.
At night a person could see and hear things that would never be heard during the daylight hours. Strange and ominous creatures and beings came out and acted as naturally as you and I showing their true colors and feelings. People and things you wouldn’t ordinarily see during the daytime roam without a real purpose in the cascading blackness of night.
Sniffing the stale city air he quietly hops from building top to building top without so much as a glance down to wonder where the earth sits and when it will swallow him up in a diving death for which he is untouchable. Careful to watch his step, though light, he moved through the outskirts of Los Angeles evenly and silently by rooftop scattering various black birds and bats to and fro. He knew these buildings like the back of his hand and at times did not even have to look where he was going.
His eyes, well adjusted to the bleak darkness, scanned the city below searching for his next victim or would maybe become his next of kin. People seemed incredibly tiny as they hustled and bustled down the dimly lit broken down sidewalks.
The year was sometime after the millennium, he wasn’t sure exactly what year since he long ago stopped keeping track. Los Angeles was mostly in ruins, but he loved his city of angels dearly and found it hard to part with it. Leaving it behind would be so troublesome when everything was just as he wanted it to be, right here among the living dead and the plentiful mortals.
Long ago burnt out cars rolled over on their sides littered the side streets making them impassable to another vehicle of any kind and some still smoldered in the distance from the many gang riots when the Crypts overthrew the Bloods in a final viscous gangland battle which killed many of the human population as well as some kindred. But, all in all, he still cherished his sweet deadly city and all it’s violence. It could not touch him for he was immortal just as some of the others.
He leaped to another rooftop and sat waiting and watching. As he watched intently he spotted exactly what he was looking for. His first victim of the night. She was lovely and quite a beautiful woman within this dread and the un-kept city. Dark black hair caressed her tanned, bare shoulders and her hourglass figure complemented her piecing blue eyes. He observed distantly with bated breath swiftly hopping from building top to building top gazing on her splendor and beauty. Walking quickly and with some apparent purpose, she seemed completely unaware of his presence.
Following her for ten blocks maybe twelve he drifted down in flight behind her and landed quietly careful not to overwhelm her. Walking several paces behind her following her every move for five blocks he thought out in his mind how simple and easy this kill would be. The first kill is always the best and the easiest of the night. Lost in his own thoughts he just about ran right into her when he heard her say as if from some other place and time, “If you’re going to mug me or something you’d better do it now, because I don’t have time to play games with some creep like you.” Stunned that she even realized he was there, he recoiled and slowed his pace coming to a halt behind her without saying a word. She turned to face her night stalker and looked him dead in the eye, “Well?” She pushed. Running his trembling fingers through his straight long brown hair he fought to quell the hunger growing ever so present deep from within his bones. He could smell the blood coursing through her veins and he hears it as well. “Well!?!” She insisted. “You are a beautiful creature,” he gasped.
In the darkness his significant green eyes sparkled, but she felt somewhat apprehensive and controlled looking deep into them. They were beautiful eyes and she could of gazed into them for a lifetime, but a deep hidden mischievousness danced just beyond the surface and she shuddered as a chill ran the length of her tingling spine. Becoming suddenly chicken caught in the rivets of his piercing stare she stammered, “W...,W...,Well, Th...,Thank you. N..., Now go away!”
Before she turned to begin to walk away he seized her and bit deeply into her unprotected neck with such quickness a normal mortal wouldn’t have seen him move. She was warm and her blood was sweet to the taste. It flushed through his system in sweet relief as every fiber of his being took notice to the fresh new blood rampaging through his own veins.
Even though he drained to the point of death he knew what he would do next. He wanted her. He had to have her. She needed him and he needed her to live and be his life long companion. She was so perfect in every way and detail. The night did not do her justice. He stopped. Gazing into her eyes he spoke quietly and calmly, “You are a charm. Do you want to live or do you want the bleak darkness of death? Do you want my undying love and devotion or do you want to die cold and alone? Do you want to live forever?”
She blinked in disbelief, as she appeared to compute this radical information. Her head spun slightly as if she had drunk a little too much wine and she became increasingly dizzy as the seconds ticked by. The entire world whirled around her and she was becoming incapable of independent thought. Looking deep into his eyes all her fears, hopes and dreams were realized for the first time in her 25 years of life and with what little strength she had left that was still her own she answered meekly, “Yes, I do.” A devilish smile played upon his lips as he countered with a lulling voice, “Then you shall have my eternal life and gift.”
Sweeping her helpless body into his revitalized arms he effortlessly glided up into the rooftops he cherished so much and made the becoming final. The city below took no time to morn the loss and kept eternally beating for the next prey would appear soon.
Copyright: Demented Thinking Productions 1998
He relished the dark of the night. The unwanted sounds and feelings surrounding the beliefs that nighttime was evil and above all brought forth with the dark side of all mankind. The smell of dead dried leaves and old wispy branches filled his lungs to capacity. He moved silently for the most part, but completely unwarranted for the later.
At night a person could see and hear things that would never be heard during the daylight hours. Strange and ominous creatures and beings came out and acted as naturally as you and I showing their true colors and feelings. People and things you wouldn’t ordinarily see during the daytime roam without a real purpose in the cascading blackness of night.
Sniffing the stale city air he quietly hops from building top to building top without so much as a glance down to wonder where the earth sits and when it will swallow him up in a diving death for which he is untouchable. Careful to watch his step, though light, he moved through the outskirts of Los Angeles evenly and silently by rooftop scattering various black birds and bats to and fro. He knew these buildings like the back of his hand and at times did not even have to look where he was going.
His eyes, well adjusted to the bleak darkness, scanned the city below searching for his next victim or would maybe become his next of kin. People seemed incredibly tiny as they hustled and bustled down the dimly lit broken down sidewalks.
The year was sometime after the millennium, he wasn’t sure exactly what year since he long ago stopped keeping track. Los Angeles was mostly in ruins, but he loved his city of angels dearly and found it hard to part with it. Leaving it behind would be so troublesome when everything was just as he wanted it to be, right here among the living dead and the plentiful mortals.
Long ago burnt out cars rolled over on their sides littered the side streets making them impassable to another vehicle of any kind and some still smoldered in the distance from the many gang riots when the Crypts overthrew the Bloods in a final viscous gangland battle which killed many of the human population as well as some kindred. But, all in all, he still cherished his sweet deadly city and all it’s violence. It could not touch him for he was immortal just as some of the others.
He leaped to another rooftop and sat waiting and watching. As he watched intently he spotted exactly what he was looking for. His first victim of the night. She was lovely and quite a beautiful woman within this dread and the un-kept city. Dark black hair caressed her tanned, bare shoulders and her hourglass figure complemented her piecing blue eyes. He observed distantly with bated breath swiftly hopping from building top to building top gazing on her splendor and beauty. Walking quickly and with some apparent purpose, she seemed completely unaware of his presence.
Following her for ten blocks maybe twelve he drifted down in flight behind her and landed quietly careful not to overwhelm her. Walking several paces behind her following her every move for five blocks he thought out in his mind how simple and easy this kill would be. The first kill is always the best and the easiest of the night. Lost in his own thoughts he just about ran right into her when he heard her say as if from some other place and time, “If you’re going to mug me or something you’d better do it now, because I don’t have time to play games with some creep like you.” Stunned that she even realized he was there, he recoiled and slowed his pace coming to a halt behind her without saying a word. She turned to face her night stalker and looked him dead in the eye, “Well?” She pushed. Running his trembling fingers through his straight long brown hair he fought to quell the hunger growing ever so present deep from within his bones. He could smell the blood coursing through her veins and he hears it as well. “Well!?!” She insisted. “You are a beautiful creature,” he gasped.
In the darkness his significant green eyes sparkled, but she felt somewhat apprehensive and controlled looking deep into them. They were beautiful eyes and she could of gazed into them for a lifetime, but a deep hidden mischievousness danced just beyond the surface and she shuddered as a chill ran the length of her tingling spine. Becoming suddenly chicken caught in the rivets of his piercing stare she stammered, “W...,W...,Well, Th...,Thank you. N..., Now go away!”
Before she turned to begin to walk away he seized her and bit deeply into her unprotected neck with such quickness a normal mortal wouldn’t have seen him move. She was warm and her blood was sweet to the taste. It flushed through his system in sweet relief as every fiber of his being took notice to the fresh new blood rampaging through his own veins.
Even though he drained to the point of death he knew what he would do next. He wanted her. He had to have her. She needed him and he needed her to live and be his life long companion. She was so perfect in every way and detail. The night did not do her justice. He stopped. Gazing into her eyes he spoke quietly and calmly, “You are a charm. Do you want to live or do you want the bleak darkness of death? Do you want my undying love and devotion or do you want to die cold and alone? Do you want to live forever?”
She blinked in disbelief, as she appeared to compute this radical information. Her head spun slightly as if she had drunk a little too much wine and she became increasingly dizzy as the seconds ticked by. The entire world whirled around her and she was becoming incapable of independent thought. Looking deep into his eyes all her fears, hopes and dreams were realized for the first time in her 25 years of life and with what little strength she had left that was still her own she answered meekly, “Yes, I do.” A devilish smile played upon his lips as he countered with a lulling voice, “Then you shall have my eternal life and gift.”
Sweeping her helpless body into his revitalized arms he effortlessly glided up into the rooftops he cherished so much and made the becoming final. The city below took no time to morn the loss and kept eternally beating for the next prey would appear soon.
Draining You Dry
Copyright:2/19/98
Draining You Dry
We can't see
Do you believe?
That he's free
Are we slaves?
To a reality, beyond all existence, completely unseen.
We can't hear
Are the voices there?
Live in fear
Don't you see?
That it's a joke, a fate held so compromised near and dear.
(pre-chorus)
Say, God are you there?
Or just a figment
Say, God do you care?
Are you really heaven sent?
We can't feel
Are our fingers numb?
You will kneel
Will you succumb?
To something invisible, certain death, all is lost, my last breath, now I kneel, hope killed.
We can't taste
Are our tongues severed?
It's a waste
How long is never?
When infinity comes, agonizing defeat, all my life, lies told, ends meet, in hate.
(pre-chorus)
(chorus)
The leach, sucking your blood
The leach, making you repent
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Preacher, speaking of brimstone
Preacher, heaven bound or hell bent?
Watching you die, while
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry.
Can we smell?
Smell the defeat
Smell the rot
See the disgust
An insignificant spot
A speck in distrust
See the pain
Feel the hatred
Bathe in acid rain
As our God feeds.
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry.
Draining You Dry
We can't see
Do you believe?
That he's free
Are we slaves?
To a reality, beyond all existence, completely unseen.
We can't hear
Are the voices there?
Live in fear
Don't you see?
That it's a joke, a fate held so compromised near and dear.
(pre-chorus)
Say, God are you there?
Or just a figment
Say, God do you care?
Are you really heaven sent?
We can't feel
Are our fingers numb?
You will kneel
Will you succumb?
To something invisible, certain death, all is lost, my last breath, now I kneel, hope killed.
We can't taste
Are our tongues severed?
It's a waste
How long is never?
When infinity comes, agonizing defeat, all my life, lies told, ends meet, in hate.
(pre-chorus)
(chorus)
The leach, sucking your blood
The leach, making you repent
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Preacher, speaking of brimstone
Preacher, heaven bound or hell bent?
Watching you die, while
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry.
Can we smell?
Smell the defeat
Smell the rot
See the disgust
An insignificant spot
A speck in distrust
See the pain
Feel the hatred
Bathe in acid rain
As our God feeds.
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry
Draining you dry.
Depression
Copyright: 2/13/96
Depression
When the pain becomes too much
And I feel out of touch
When life deals dark hands
And my weapons unmanned
Unnatural feelings of despair
Other people don't care
Believing and knowing pain
Unwanted for at all no gain
Depression settles in my mind
Settling like salt and unkind.
Feeling down and disbelievingly low
Rain falls and becomes the snow
I feel as though I am the only one
Now I know all is lost I am done
I try to pick myself up quickly
But fear berates me and they see
Unpleasant worries stops the cold
Memories of the past are too bold
Depression counts for something
Leveled by an unreal sting.
Deadening the suffering can be almost impossible
Standing corrected can leave you void and null
When life passes you exclusively by
There's no time for all the lies
When I feel depressed and alone
To the clouds destination unknown
I fill myself with joy if I can
Chameleon counterpart grain of sand
Silence is deadly and I'm calm
Standing aside, depression I'm drawn.
Feelings singe deep within my soul
Feelings no one understands or knows
When I think aloud I'm a loner
Are people so easily swayed and cloned?
Why am I the only one that feels this?
I can't win I just play hit or miss
Take some time to look severely around
Realize others call to the sound
I am not alone and my feelings understood
Doing what's right, just and good.
Depression
When the pain becomes too much
And I feel out of touch
When life deals dark hands
And my weapons unmanned
Unnatural feelings of despair
Other people don't care
Believing and knowing pain
Unwanted for at all no gain
Depression settles in my mind
Settling like salt and unkind.
Feeling down and disbelievingly low
Rain falls and becomes the snow
I feel as though I am the only one
Now I know all is lost I am done
I try to pick myself up quickly
But fear berates me and they see
Unpleasant worries stops the cold
Memories of the past are too bold
Depression counts for something
Leveled by an unreal sting.
Deadening the suffering can be almost impossible
Standing corrected can leave you void and null
When life passes you exclusively by
There's no time for all the lies
When I feel depressed and alone
To the clouds destination unknown
I fill myself with joy if I can
Chameleon counterpart grain of sand
Silence is deadly and I'm calm
Standing aside, depression I'm drawn.
Feelings singe deep within my soul
Feelings no one understands or knows
When I think aloud I'm a loner
Are people so easily swayed and cloned?
Why am I the only one that feels this?
I can't win I just play hit or miss
Take some time to look severely around
Realize others call to the sound
I am not alone and my feelings understood
Doing what's right, just and good.
Demon's Kiss
Demon's Kiss
The human wanders through the night
Desperately seeking solace and solitude
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he is not prepared for
Something he never imagine existed
For the werewolf hunts at the full moon
And will gladly deliver the demon's kiss.
The human looks despairingly on his thoughts
Desperately seeking the passion he once had
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he had not waited for
Something he was not ready for
For the werewolf bites are almost fatal
And it will find the human with its thirst.
The human walks through the darkest alleys
And thinks to himself unaware and unfounded
But instead he should pay attention
He could notice
Something is waiting for him in shadows
Something hungry and unknowingly evil
For the werewolf have many unwanted attributes
And it will hunt until the very dawn.
The human roams through the obscure streets
And talks to himself lonely and confused
But instead he should be alert
He should listen
Something is trailing him, stalking him
Something not quite human not beast
For the werewolf is somewhere in between
And it knows not what it does to the fawns.
The human comes alive and aware of his destiny
And creeps into a dark corner hoping and waiting
But instead he should be running
He could run
Something is behind him and breathing hard
Something has answered his call of loneliness
For the werewolf knows deep down inside
That it's the demon's kiss, which keep it sacred.
The human crouches in the shadows alert
And momentarily shortens his breaths
But instead he should beware
He could beware
Something is touching his shoulder
Something horrid and starved for affection
For the werewolf never thinks before killing
The beast pounces and the man finds himself naked.
The human starts the chase and runs from the scars
And he somehow manages to escape from it's evil
But instead he should be ready
He could be ready
Something has changed him from within
Something is not quite right in his head
For the werewolf has bitten him and he can see
That he is maimed and mauled, but alive.
The human wakes the very next day incoherent
And wonders why all the mischief roams in his mind
But instead he should find refuge
He could find refuge
Something has given him lifelong bad dreams
Something is just around the corner but he knows not
For the werewolf comes at the next full moon
And he will lose all sanity as he connives.
The human goes on with his mundane life
And struggles to humanize his thoughts and feelings
But instead he should think
He could think
Something changed his very life that night
Something evil and unbroken lies ahead
For the werewolf comes alive at the moon's sight
And the man will no longer be what he seems.
The human often sits and daydreams of a new
And relives the night of the full moon
But instead he should scare
He could scare
Something is amiss in his life of dismal fame
Something has risen and he cannot stop it
For the werewolf catches it's own scent
And the demon's kiss is lasting and an end to a means.
The human wanders through the night
Desperately seeking solace and solitude
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he is not prepared for
Something he never imagine existed
For the werewolf hunts at the full moon
And will gladly deliver the demon's kiss.
The human looks despairingly on his thoughts
Desperately seeking the passion he once had
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he had not waited for
Something he was not ready for
For the werewolf bites are almost fatal
And it will find the human with its thirst.
The human walks through the darkest alleys
And thinks to himself unaware and unfounded
But instead he should pay attention
He could notice
Something is waiting for him in shadows
Something hungry and unknowingly evil
For the werewolf have many unwanted attributes
And it will hunt until the very dawn.
The human roams through the obscure streets
And talks to himself lonely and confused
But instead he should be alert
He should listen
Something is trailing him, stalking him
Something not quite human not beast
For the werewolf is somewhere in between
And it knows not what it does to the fawns.
The human comes alive and aware of his destiny
And creeps into a dark corner hoping and waiting
But instead he should be running
He could run
Something is behind him and breathing hard
Something has answered his call of loneliness
For the werewolf knows deep down inside
That it's the demon's kiss, which keep it sacred.
The human crouches in the shadows alert
And momentarily shortens his breaths
But instead he should beware
He could beware
Something is touching his shoulder
Something horrid and starved for affection
For the werewolf never thinks before killing
The beast pounces and the man finds himself naked.
The human starts the chase and runs from the scars
And he somehow manages to escape from it's evil
But instead he should be ready
He could be ready
Something has changed him from within
Something is not quite right in his head
For the werewolf has bitten him and he can see
That he is maimed and mauled, but alive.
The human wakes the very next day incoherent
And wonders why all the mischief roams in his mind
But instead he should find refuge
He could find refuge
Something has given him lifelong bad dreams
Something is just around the corner but he knows not
For the werewolf comes at the next full moon
And he will lose all sanity as he connives.
The human goes on with his mundane life
And struggles to humanize his thoughts and feelings
But instead he should think
He could think
Something changed his very life that night
Something evil and unbroken lies ahead
For the werewolf comes alive at the moon's sight
And the man will no longer be what he seems.
The human often sits and daydreams of a new
And relives the night of the full moon
But instead he should scare
He could scare
Something is amiss in his life of dismal fame
Something has risen and he cannot stop it
For the werewolf catches it's own scent
And the demon's kiss is lasting and an end to a means.
Deja Vu
Deja' Vu
Copyright - 2/1/96
Seeing what I've seen before
Knowing the future in the past
Finding out life's inconsistencies
Little and somewhat disapproving
If everything should end tomorrow
Chaos would rule the earth
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
When spring lands the summer
And birds sing freely in trees
Certain demise awaits the darkness
Larger than this sordid life
If life died and left nothing
The world would be ever so empty
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
The future awakens my dreams
Clairvoyance comes in streams
Fall turns into winter and I see
Larger than anyone could know
If it all was to cease
We'd be left alone with nothing
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
Dank predictions of what's to be
Falling softly into the abyss
Death rounds every corner
As snow drifts silently down
If man ceased to exist
I'd be cold and empty
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
Predictions. Fate. Time.
No reason or rhyme
Destruction. Life. Death.
Taking the last breath.
Copyright - 2/1/96
Seeing what I've seen before
Knowing the future in the past
Finding out life's inconsistencies
Little and somewhat disapproving
If everything should end tomorrow
Chaos would rule the earth
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
When spring lands the summer
And birds sing freely in trees
Certain demise awaits the darkness
Larger than this sordid life
If life died and left nothing
The world would be ever so empty
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
The future awakens my dreams
Clairvoyance comes in streams
Fall turns into winter and I see
Larger than anyone could know
If it all was to cease
We'd be left alone with nothing
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
Dank predictions of what's to be
Falling softly into the abyss
Death rounds every corner
As snow drifts silently down
If man ceased to exist
I'd be cold and empty
I'd know, Deja' Vu.
Predictions. Fate. Time.
No reason or rhyme
Destruction. Life. Death.
Taking the last breath.
Deception
Copyright - 02/02/96
Deception
A man lonely and to himself
Tries to right wrongs long past
But his deception stops him
All the hurt, pain and misunderstanding
Old wounds do not mend fast
His deception.
A child unafraid and weary
Tries to understand but can’t
But his deception feeds him
All the sadness, relief and madness
The man just raves and rants
Child’s deception.
A woman caught in the middle and sick
Tries to make unrecognizable peace
But deception keeps her
All the gladness, anger and helping
When will these wars cease?
Her deception.
A family broken and unjustly beaten
Tries to live on sacrifice
But deception holds them together
All the intriguing unraveling
One more roll of the dice
Family deception.
On a whim the man decides to repair
A relationship gone eerily bad
But deception guides him
All the sorrow, horror and pride
Swallowed and he’s been had
Father’s deception.
Will the child accept in the late
An apology not straight from the heart
But his deception allows him
All the pain and time to borrow
Things that should be from the start
Son’s deception.
A mother’s love knows no boundaries
She’s ill but she tries
But deception rapes her
All the spiritual existence
Does not help, she dies
Mother’s deception.
Now the child and father are left
Do they pull themselves together?
But the deception walls them
Through all the pain and anger
They still think of her
Family deception.
The father ignores the child
The child feels shunned and unwanted
But the deception strengthens him
In spite of all the pain and sorrow
Can not forget the things he did
Father’s deception.
A child hurts and wonders why
The father puts him through trials
But the deception moves him
Alone and grievous child moans
Relations severed forgiveness frail
Child’s deception.
Time has past on a bird’s wing
And wounds sift salt and bleed
But the deception eventually kills
The emotional standing point
The father ignores the child’s needs
Family deception.
Deception
A man lonely and to himself
Tries to right wrongs long past
But his deception stops him
All the hurt, pain and misunderstanding
Old wounds do not mend fast
His deception.
A child unafraid and weary
Tries to understand but can’t
But his deception feeds him
All the sadness, relief and madness
The man just raves and rants
Child’s deception.
A woman caught in the middle and sick
Tries to make unrecognizable peace
But deception keeps her
All the gladness, anger and helping
When will these wars cease?
Her deception.
A family broken and unjustly beaten
Tries to live on sacrifice
But deception holds them together
All the intriguing unraveling
One more roll of the dice
Family deception.
On a whim the man decides to repair
A relationship gone eerily bad
But deception guides him
All the sorrow, horror and pride
Swallowed and he’s been had
Father’s deception.
Will the child accept in the late
An apology not straight from the heart
But his deception allows him
All the pain and time to borrow
Things that should be from the start
Son’s deception.
A mother’s love knows no boundaries
She’s ill but she tries
But deception rapes her
All the spiritual existence
Does not help, she dies
Mother’s deception.
Now the child and father are left
Do they pull themselves together?
But the deception walls them
Through all the pain and anger
They still think of her
Family deception.
The father ignores the child
The child feels shunned and unwanted
But the deception strengthens him
In spite of all the pain and sorrow
Can not forget the things he did
Father’s deception.
A child hurts and wonders why
The father puts him through trials
But the deception moves him
Alone and grievous child moans
Relations severed forgiveness frail
Child’s deception.
Time has past on a bird’s wing
And wounds sift salt and bleed
But the deception eventually kills
The emotional standing point
The father ignores the child’s needs
Family deception.
Death's Door
Copyright: 1\10\99
Dedicated to the memory of: Dee Govan
Death's Door
Life is so infinitely fragile
We sail the seas of love
And passion means nothing
When everything is said and done.
Death is so completely final
And hearts sink in abysmal ink
As we strum our fingers
And try hard not to think.
Cataclysmic cannons fire upon
The lives and deaths of past
As through it all sorrow stands
Within midst of breaths last.
(chorus)
Did you see the sun today?
Did you wisp the morning air?
Have you tasted the first dew.
At death's door, it's not fair.
Beginnings pretend to prove love
We feel, hate, pant and wonder
What is on the opposite side
As life fades from the thunder.
Out spoken killer regrets nothing
Watching the children quickly die
Death steps in and takes hold
Upon the youth of power and we cry.
Peace only comes to those kind
And death pursues any who struggle
But we can plainly, truly see
Your memories display affectionate lulls.
(chorus)
Did you see the sunset today?
Did you soak in the violet rays?
Have you smelled the fall?
At death's door, the final days.
The demon takes charge
And the suffering begins
But through it all now
She casts a smile at it's sin.
(repeat both chorus')
Dedicated to the memory of: Dee Govan
Death's Door
Life is so infinitely fragile
We sail the seas of love
And passion means nothing
When everything is said and done.
Death is so completely final
And hearts sink in abysmal ink
As we strum our fingers
And try hard not to think.
Cataclysmic cannons fire upon
The lives and deaths of past
As through it all sorrow stands
Within midst of breaths last.
(chorus)
Did you see the sun today?
Did you wisp the morning air?
Have you tasted the first dew.
At death's door, it's not fair.
Beginnings pretend to prove love
We feel, hate, pant and wonder
What is on the opposite side
As life fades from the thunder.
Out spoken killer regrets nothing
Watching the children quickly die
Death steps in and takes hold
Upon the youth of power and we cry.
Peace only comes to those kind
And death pursues any who struggle
But we can plainly, truly see
Your memories display affectionate lulls.
(chorus)
Did you see the sunset today?
Did you soak in the violet rays?
Have you smelled the fall?
At death's door, the final days.
The demon takes charge
And the suffering begins
But through it all now
She casts a smile at it's sin.
(repeat both chorus')
Dead
Copyright:2/18/98
Dead
A soulless wonder
Floating through space
The time and place
Is far from home.
Looking back in certainty
Stumbling over rocks
Settling the blocks
And persevering.
Breaking out of jail - Don't need this hell
Keeping life afresh - What's this mess?
Searching our hearts - A brand new start
Hoping for our freedom - Ruling the kingdom.
Watched in a fishbowl
A glass house without stones
Becoming the drones
I will conquer.
Death and despairity
Depriving human contact
Our lives so hacked
And yet on the level.
Bringing the chaos home - Enslaving the dome
Unleashing the rotting corpses - Never realizing the source
Realizing the potential - Domination circumstantial
Holding the world captive - Paid to the highest bid.
Tell me, who decides our fate?
Are we in control of our own destiny?
Why can't we touch it, feel it, or see?
Is god dead?
Have we overstepped our bounds?
Are we able to regain our control?
Or is the world falling into a hole?
Is God dead?
Has he forsaken us?
Will he be taking us?
Has he been faking us?
Is God dead?
Dead
A soulless wonder
Floating through space
The time and place
Is far from home.
Looking back in certainty
Stumbling over rocks
Settling the blocks
And persevering.
Breaking out of jail - Don't need this hell
Keeping life afresh - What's this mess?
Searching our hearts - A brand new start
Hoping for our freedom - Ruling the kingdom.
Watched in a fishbowl
A glass house without stones
Becoming the drones
I will conquer.
Death and despairity
Depriving human contact
Our lives so hacked
And yet on the level.
Bringing the chaos home - Enslaving the dome
Unleashing the rotting corpses - Never realizing the source
Realizing the potential - Domination circumstantial
Holding the world captive - Paid to the highest bid.
Tell me, who decides our fate?
Are we in control of our own destiny?
Why can't we touch it, feel it, or see?
Is god dead?
Have we overstepped our bounds?
Are we able to regain our control?
Or is the world falling into a hole?
Is God dead?
Has he forsaken us?
Will he be taking us?
Has he been faking us?
Is God dead?
Dark Captive
Copyright Demented Thinking Productions 1998
Dark Captive
Darkness. Nothing but shrouded darkness encompassing his very thoughts. No daylight, no manufactured light, no glimmer of hope. The husky man sat straight up slowly with his throbbing head in his trembling hands. "I can't believe this," he spoke aloud in a thick English accent.
Clearing his parched throat the man peered disbelieving through the empty darkness. "Where am I? Am I dead or alive?" Shaking his head violently back and forth doing his best to clear the cobwebs from his hazy mind, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jesus, how did I get here? What the hell happened?"
Rubbing the callused heels of his palms hard into his eye sockets, the man realized for the first time since he awoke he remembered nothing. His mind was a void. His own name, his job, whether or not he had family, all of it gone and seemingly wiped from his memory. Dizziness waved through the fog. He swayed a little and steadied himself with his left elbow. He was uncomfortable and he had one heck of a headache. He rubbed his head unconsciously and peered into the obscurity again.
As he struggled to remember who he was and why he was in a place such as this, he enveloped his surroundings quickly and assessed it was not a place he wanted to spend plenty of time in and it surely was not heaven. The stone walls were cold and dank like a cave and he could faintly hear a dripping sound in the distance. It was eerie. He couldn't shake the sensation of plain and simple evil riveting the air around him. Scratching his hurting head the man gripped the frigid wall and steadied himself on his feet unsure. "I've got to remember who I am?" He mumbled under his breath.
Searching himself for the smallest possible clue to his identity, the man turned out all of his pockets. He looked in his pants where everyone keeps a wallet or some form of identification. He rummaged through his shirt pockets and even looked in his shoes and socks, but on all counts found nothing. Frustrated he bailed out loud, "Whoever put me here must of taken every form of identification I had."
Purging his mind deeply, the man fell silent as he groped his surroundings around this purgatory he was to now call home. After 15 minutes of feeling, smelling and crawling he concluded he was in some sort of underground prison with stone dungeon like walls and horrid smells of men dying. He was alone in his cell and he seemed somewhat physically battered. But the silence was deafening, and there was no one else to share in his misery. Instead of answering his questions his bout around the mildewed cell block brought many new ones to light and still solved nothing.
He sighed heavily and sank against the cool stone wall caressing his riddled, aching bones with its icy grip. The walls seemed to invite him and invade him at the same time. Shivering he backed off a little and looked at it in the darkness, but nothing was there only his deranged imagination getting the best of him.
Deciding to find out if anyone else shared his fate in this dark state of reality, he called out a little too loudly for such an empty place, "Hello? Is anybody there?" The sound of his own voice reverberated off the the walls and traveled down the lonely corridors. He listened intently for the smallest possible sound, a scuffle of shoes on the concrete floor, other voices, someone, anyone, hell he'd settle for rats roaming about this place, but his own voice kept crawling back into his ears louder than ever with definite emptiness and a certainty he felt. He was alone. No human contact. No memory. No lights. "Damn!" He screamed out in pure frustration. "I've got to do something, I just cannot sit here and wait to die."
Struggling to his feet, intending to do a more thorough search of his new dim surroundings he slipped and fell full force against the slimy wall. "Oh, good one. You're so damned clumsy, Linden." The man struggled to his feet again but a little more carefully as realization took hold. "Wait!" He rubbed his forehead feverishly, "That's it! My name! My name is Stewart Linden! I'm Stewart Linden and I work for,...for,...for,...Oh hell, I don't remember!"
Scowling Linden forced himself back to his feet and scathed the entire damp cell looking for any broken pieces to possibly dig his way out. The search turned up the same information as before. Nothing. "It's small and not very cozy." Linden mused to himself, "Whoever put me here must not like me very much." As he turned around for better bearings he heard in his own head, "On the contrary, Mr. Linden, I like you very much, always have." "What the,..." Linden looked around madly for a moment and dismissed it as his own fear of closed in places getting the best of him. And as quickly as it came it was gone. Stewart shrugged and sighed plopping down in what he thought might be the middle of the cool cell like room.
Distantly he heard a rumbling sound, but he couldn't quite place it. He sat quietly and thought hard, but still could not quite place it. The ground shook and he had to hold on to keep from falling over and hurting himself.
Deciding for the time being to forget the noise and work on a probable way out of this mess, Linden began to rub the floor hoping he'd fall upon a loose brick or anything escape worthy. In his travels he discovered two loose bricks in the far left hand corner, but when he removed them he only found more cold, hard concrete below. It could of been concrete has wasn't exactly sure. He was sure of one thing. He was in a serious predicament. Past that, he didn't know anything, for all he knew Stewart Linden could be his best friend or his worst enemy. But it was something until he regained his memory. It was a start.
The cell block he was in was old and carried a certain smell, but besides the smell of age laid another stench far different, but he couldn't quite place it and quickly dismissed it. In his journey he noticed one heavy steel door locked from the outside was his only means of escape. Obliviously the door was manifested to keep someone in instead of out and all around the walls, floor and air bled dampness. Stewart could not reach the ceiling, therefore he couldn't tell if it bread the same dank, dampness the rest of the chamber did, but he assumed it must.
He searched his pockets a little more carefully for any signs of his existence or whereabouts and realizing he had inside pockets he had not looked in previously in his shirt, he fumbled his hands into them a little too quickly with anticipation tearing them slightly. Finding a small object in his right hand inside pocket, Linden reveled in the fact that he could at least have some closure of his dim thoughts for the time being. He brought the tiny cardboard pack out and opened it carefully treating it as though it were gold and it would break if he opened it too eagerly. It was a book of matches. Excitedly he pried the matchbox open almost wrecking it in the process. His numb fingers and sweaty hands trembled fiercely as he finally unfolded the matches. Quickly running his fingers over the contents of the book he landed what he was looking for. A single match. Wiping his scrawling hands one at a time on his pant leg , he took a deep breath, knowing it was his only chance, and lit the match on the first strike.
Turning around slowly in a full circle he saw his own private hell for the first time and gasped. "My God." The ceiling stood at least 20 feet if it was an inch above the old callous stone floor and in the far right hand corner hung a battered and worn skeleton. Linden whimpered and drew back as if the skeleton jumped out and bit him. His jaws agape, Linden uncertainly walked to his ragged cellmate. His match became shorter by the moment and he tore at his sleeve frantically. Reaching up in a split second and quickly tearing the femur bone from the dilapidated bag of bones, Stewart remarked quietly, "I'm sure you don't need this anymore, mate." Placing the weathered remains on the frigid rock floor he wrapped his sleeve sound the tip and fastened it tightly. He lit it with his depleting match fastidiously before it burned out altogether.
The fire blazed brilliantly from his makeshift torch as he searched for a secure place to anchor his flickering light. He remembered the two loose bricks in the corner, and quickly scurried to the spot and planted the torch gingerly. "Now...If I could just remember where the hell I am, I'd be alright." Linden mused to the skeleton. "Well, never give up, keep a stiff upper lip, devil may care and all that utter crap."
Linden rubbed his rough hands together for warmth noticing for the first time just how cold and damp his domain was. As the cool walls and floor surrounded him he shuttered uncontrollably and scanned the small tomb-like room with unregarded apathy. His eyes were mere slits as he lurked them in and out of the shadows caressing the walls for some sort of portal or catch to unlock the door or reveal a secret passageway to freedom. Still nothing.
Again, Linden heard the faint rumbling rattling into his very soul and bones, and it seemed to be getting closer. The sound spark some memory deep within the crevices of his mind, but before Stewart could grasp it, it was gone and hopelessly lost.
Dismissing it once again, he plopped in the center of the cold concrete cell nervously waiting. "Well, it's obliviously a hard place to get out of, " Linden said with a quiver nodding to his cellmate. "Looks like this bloke had a run in with someone who did not agree with him. If I could only remember everything, I know I could get out of here. Jesus I should of listened to my mother and been an accountant instead of a spy."
Everything began to flood back in waves and flashes. His memory, his kids, his parents, and, oh God,...his wife."Why!" Linden screamed in blind anguish. Insane with rage Stewart beat on the heavy steel door with his fists until they were bruised and becoming bloody, "Let me out of here you bastards!"
Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as the events unfolded in his mind's eye. The memories. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to. His wife, Erica Linden, was dead. There was nothing he could of done for her. And her face...her face...Oh God, her face. He moaned like a wounded animal and slipped down to the ground coiled like a snake. Her torn, riddled body lying there on the icy September ground lifeless. No breath expelled from her once heavenly lungs, no beat emerged from her sturdy heart. "Blood, oh God, the blood." Linden sobbed. Flashes of her bloodied face raced through his unbelieving mind darkening every untouched corner with an icy preciseness. "Erica...My dear sweet Erica. I'm so sorry. Why? Why did this happen?" But even as he spoke the words he knew why. Stewart sunk into the unfeeling floor and his entire body felt like warmed jelly. Beating his fists on the unforgiving floor one more time for good measure he dispelled the sour contents of his empty stomach. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he shouted at the top of his lungs, "I'll get you! Do you hear me? I'll get you and when I do I will kill you!" His body, wrecked with tears and wrenched with pain heaved twice more and everything faded to black.
He slept. Sleep came quickly for him, but it was disturbed with visions of a dark clad figure slowly and effortlessly raping his thoughts. It was endless. The nightmares went on for what seemed like hours as he tossed and turned on the frigid stone floor uncomfortably. And no matter what he did the dark being probed and prodded him, not physically, but mentally.
Linden awoke abruptly with a start. Shaking the last remnants of the nightmares that still lingered in the darkest regions of his tired mind he fought back the tears threatening to overcome him. The very real nightmare encompassed him in his waking moments. The memories flooded back once again and he lost the battle and started sobbing deep and hard.
After the deepened fog cleared from his startled mind he turned his aching head and realized he had been moved from his dank cell. His cell mate was nowhere in sight and now instead of cold stone floor and walls he was nestled neatly in a warm bunk with the chain link walls of a prison cage. Hearing a faint hum, a bit like electricity in a fluorescent light warming up, Linden stirred and scrutinized his surrounding cell. Light flooded through the fencing from the long corridor and Stewart struggled into a sitting position while wiping the last remnants of sleep from his swollen eyes.
Linden leaned against the cage wall in a daze when the rumbling sound came again much louder this time than it was before. The rumbling sound became a grating like metal on metal. Gigantic metal doors were opening and closing and it was getting closer. Someone or something was coming for him. Stewart sat up straighter and busied himself with the residue of clothes he had on.
He heard heavy footsteps as whomever came to the final door and it opened with a loud whoosh. "Mr. Stewart Linden, A harsh foreign voice called from the doorway. "Y...Y...Yes?" Linden stammered unsure. Linden got to his feet quickly and straightened his ruffled pants and shirt the best he could, and reply with a little more authority, "Yes. I'm Stewart Linden." The voice unlocked the steel door to the cage and replied with no emotion, "If you will come with me." The cage creaked and croaked with the weight of the steel door and it rolled open with a loud bang as Linden stepped out into the well-lit hallway.
Strangely enough he couldn't make out the stranger's facial features nor could he place the accent. It was unlike any he'd heard before in his life time. A cold, unfeeling hand gripped his wrist with immeasurable strength as the foreign man gasped, "This way." And for a moment the stranger's face seemed to change. It rippled as if he was presenting a new face. In an instant it was gone and Stewart blinked clearing his head before he really started to lose his frayed mind.
The two men walked in silence for what seemed like hours. Stewart watched the foreigner with horrid interest. His face displayed absolutely nothing. He was pale and cold and Stewart was sure the man had no human emotion left in him. When they finally reached their destination the stranger said, "Here," gesturing to a wooden seat in the middle of another small room and before Linden could say anything the stranger disappeared. "That bloke was a barrel of laughs." Linden mumbled to himself. He felt the stranger's gaze upon him penetrating his very soul. Wishing he had kept his big mouth shut, Linden shivered from head to toe trying to keep pace with the goose bumps running their own rendition of a hundred yard dash up and down his chilled spine. "Welcome," boomed a voice from the darkness. Linden jumped as though he had been goosed, "You scared the hell out of me!" Well, yes I usually have that exact effect on most people, " The voice spoke clearly and slowly with the same accent as the eerie guard. "My name is Leeland ." the voice said matter-of-factly. Linden stood agape and ran through his thoughts carefully before choosing his words. Leeland allowed the silence anticipating the barrage oncoming questions with a playful interest as Stewart tried to make out the familiar facial features shrouded in the darkness. In a loud, bold voice Linden claimed, "My name is Stewart Linden, I am special agent number 9126 and I demand to converse with my commander in London!" Leeland laughed uproariously. It was a grating sound as if laughter was not part of Leeland's every day life.
Leeland moved closer, raised his eyebrows and made a futile attempt at a whistle, "Well, well Mr. Linden. I have been greeted in all sorts of manners from men more than you and less than you, but never one as demanding as you. The fact that you are number,...What was it?" "9126." Linden muttered. "Ah, yes 9126. The fact that you are number 9126 holds no relevancy here. I do not care if you are a spy or a garbage collector. It makes no difference to me whatsoever." Leeland finished with a little chuckle. Linden thought about this information, turning it over and over in his rattled mind. Panic welled at the base of his mind and grew until he blurted out, "So, you are not the enemy?" Leeland laughed heartily again and coughed, "No, Mr. Linden, I am not the enemy. On the contrary, I could use a man with your...shall we say, skills." Leeland sniffed and lit a candle not too far away from Stewart's head with such speed an accuracy he wasn't sue he really saw it until the candle beamed brightly and flickered. "You're an intelligent man, Mr. Linden, are you not?" Leeland continued without missing a beat, "After you hear my proposal, I am sure you will say yes." Leeland waited for some response from his captivated audience but none came. "Allow me to begin, then." Leeland spoke clearly and evenly. "Feel free to stop me when you like and ask any questions." Leeland waited, still no response. "You and your family were on vacation and you all were abducted by my,...shall we say, staff and myself. My full name is Leeland Forsythe and my family has been in power for many, many centuries in this region and we will be here for many more. I was born approximately 450 years ago. I have seen many things, and I will see many more. And if you so choose you can live forever. Do you make the choice? Or do you choose to die now with your family?"
Linden stood completely dumbfounded. He could not believe his ears. Did this man just tell him what he thought he did or did he image the entire conversation? As if Leeland read Stewart's mind he calmly said, "No Mr. Linden, you are not imagining things." Linden jumped and stared at Leeland Forsythe in amazement. Stuttering, Linden finally found his tongue and spoke, "S...So...What you are...T...Telling...me is that you are a V...Vam...Vampire?" Leeland snickered, "No I am not what you perceive to be a vampire. I do drink blood and I choose my victims carefully, but I hold no resentment for garlic, crosses or wooden stakes. And sunlight, yes, sunlight is something I care not to think about." As if to prove his point Leeland reached out and grabbed the gold cross from around Linden's neck and held it in such a quick movement Linden didn't even see the man stutter and released it a few moments later unharmed speaking as he did it, "You see, Mr. Linden, the old myths do not always ring truth."
Stewart Linden shivered deep down inside his soul despite himself and muttered, "What of my family?" "Dead, as I just told you, Mr. Linden." Linden gasped in shock and surprise. "Oh, come now, Mr. Linden. surely you knew they were dead. Why would I spare them? They were too weak to endure the first bite. They all died too quickly."
Linden scanned the room quickly for a way out, found none and spoke in a raspy voice, "So, now you think after you've killed my entire family I will just allow you to make me one of you, just like that!" "Yes, I do. Once I present all the facts."
Stewart's mouth was dry, he licked his lips in a vague attempt to regain some control of his missing saliva, he swallowed hard, but the dryness did not succumb. "You see Mr. Linden, or should I call you, Stewart," without waiting for a reply Leeland went on, "You really have no choice because I've already bitten you once. All I have to do is bite again and drain you to death. Either way you will either die or come to my side. All that is required of you is to drink." Linden felt his own heart pounding in his chest as he unconsciously reached up and scraped his fingers across the neat puncture wounds on his neck. "Oh, God." Stewart squeaked and the dream came flooding back to him as clear as if it was happening all over again. His hands trembling erratically, Stewart Linden plopped down hard in the wooden chair provided for him. "If you come with me, Stewart, I'll show you beauty beyond any human belief. I will teach you and pamper you, and without me, you will die painfully and quickly. I will show you how to live and how rewarding life can be, if you just come to me."
Fighting every impulse he had Stewart looked dramatically away from the dark figure waiting just beyond the darkness, but he couldn't escape Leeland's eyes glaring at him, boring into him. Unable to control his feelings he was drawn to Leeland like a passionate lover. "Come." Leeland whispered, "Come to me, my child."
As if Stewart's feet and legs had minds of their own he moved closer to Leeland Forsythe for the first terrifying time since he entered the uncomfortable chamber. Welcome and complete understanding flared from Leeland's outstretched arms as Linden gradually and willingly came closer. Stewart's blood coursed through his mellow veins, pumping fiercely past his heart into his awaiting brain. Yearning for Leeland's touch, his warmth, and his knowledge, Stewart stepped closer into his open arms. Stroking his hair and caressing Stewart like a lost child, Leeland cooed, "There, there.Isn't that much better, my child?"
The two men stood there for minutes before Leeland spoke quietly, "It's time. It's time." Linden gazed deep into Leeland's dark violet eyes and discovered everything in his life that was missing. Leeland plummeted into Stewart's neck and heavily sucked his blood until almost dry for a second time that evening. Ecstasy raged through Linden's body and he could think of nothing else or anything else he wanted more than Leeland Forsythe. Leeland pulled away from Stewart and he hung on tightly while he offered his own vampire blood for the taking. Stewart drank thirstily. Lightheaded and swimming, Linden slumped against Leeland's hard, cool chest as the new blood bubbled and surged through his rich veins. Contentment spiraled through Stewart Linden's body as he sank deeper and deeper into the bliss Leeland Forsythe offered and he finally succumbed to.
Dark Captive
Darkness. Nothing but shrouded darkness encompassing his very thoughts. No daylight, no manufactured light, no glimmer of hope. The husky man sat straight up slowly with his throbbing head in his trembling hands. "I can't believe this," he spoke aloud in a thick English accent.
Clearing his parched throat the man peered disbelieving through the empty darkness. "Where am I? Am I dead or alive?" Shaking his head violently back and forth doing his best to clear the cobwebs from his hazy mind, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jesus, how did I get here? What the hell happened?"
Rubbing the callused heels of his palms hard into his eye sockets, the man realized for the first time since he awoke he remembered nothing. His mind was a void. His own name, his job, whether or not he had family, all of it gone and seemingly wiped from his memory. Dizziness waved through the fog. He swayed a little and steadied himself with his left elbow. He was uncomfortable and he had one heck of a headache. He rubbed his head unconsciously and peered into the obscurity again.
As he struggled to remember who he was and why he was in a place such as this, he enveloped his surroundings quickly and assessed it was not a place he wanted to spend plenty of time in and it surely was not heaven. The stone walls were cold and dank like a cave and he could faintly hear a dripping sound in the distance. It was eerie. He couldn't shake the sensation of plain and simple evil riveting the air around him. Scratching his hurting head the man gripped the frigid wall and steadied himself on his feet unsure. "I've got to remember who I am?" He mumbled under his breath.
Searching himself for the smallest possible clue to his identity, the man turned out all of his pockets. He looked in his pants where everyone keeps a wallet or some form of identification. He rummaged through his shirt pockets and even looked in his shoes and socks, but on all counts found nothing. Frustrated he bailed out loud, "Whoever put me here must of taken every form of identification I had."
Purging his mind deeply, the man fell silent as he groped his surroundings around this purgatory he was to now call home. After 15 minutes of feeling, smelling and crawling he concluded he was in some sort of underground prison with stone dungeon like walls and horrid smells of men dying. He was alone in his cell and he seemed somewhat physically battered. But the silence was deafening, and there was no one else to share in his misery. Instead of answering his questions his bout around the mildewed cell block brought many new ones to light and still solved nothing.
He sighed heavily and sank against the cool stone wall caressing his riddled, aching bones with its icy grip. The walls seemed to invite him and invade him at the same time. Shivering he backed off a little and looked at it in the darkness, but nothing was there only his deranged imagination getting the best of him.
Deciding to find out if anyone else shared his fate in this dark state of reality, he called out a little too loudly for such an empty place, "Hello? Is anybody there?" The sound of his own voice reverberated off the the walls and traveled down the lonely corridors. He listened intently for the smallest possible sound, a scuffle of shoes on the concrete floor, other voices, someone, anyone, hell he'd settle for rats roaming about this place, but his own voice kept crawling back into his ears louder than ever with definite emptiness and a certainty he felt. He was alone. No human contact. No memory. No lights. "Damn!" He screamed out in pure frustration. "I've got to do something, I just cannot sit here and wait to die."
Struggling to his feet, intending to do a more thorough search of his new dim surroundings he slipped and fell full force against the slimy wall. "Oh, good one. You're so damned clumsy, Linden." The man struggled to his feet again but a little more carefully as realization took hold. "Wait!" He rubbed his forehead feverishly, "That's it! My name! My name is Stewart Linden! I'm Stewart Linden and I work for,...for,...for,...Oh hell, I don't remember!"
Scowling Linden forced himself back to his feet and scathed the entire damp cell looking for any broken pieces to possibly dig his way out. The search turned up the same information as before. Nothing. "It's small and not very cozy." Linden mused to himself, "Whoever put me here must not like me very much." As he turned around for better bearings he heard in his own head, "On the contrary, Mr. Linden, I like you very much, always have." "What the,..." Linden looked around madly for a moment and dismissed it as his own fear of closed in places getting the best of him. And as quickly as it came it was gone. Stewart shrugged and sighed plopping down in what he thought might be the middle of the cool cell like room.
Distantly he heard a rumbling sound, but he couldn't quite place it. He sat quietly and thought hard, but still could not quite place it. The ground shook and he had to hold on to keep from falling over and hurting himself.
Deciding for the time being to forget the noise and work on a probable way out of this mess, Linden began to rub the floor hoping he'd fall upon a loose brick or anything escape worthy. In his travels he discovered two loose bricks in the far left hand corner, but when he removed them he only found more cold, hard concrete below. It could of been concrete has wasn't exactly sure. He was sure of one thing. He was in a serious predicament. Past that, he didn't know anything, for all he knew Stewart Linden could be his best friend or his worst enemy. But it was something until he regained his memory. It was a start.
The cell block he was in was old and carried a certain smell, but besides the smell of age laid another stench far different, but he couldn't quite place it and quickly dismissed it. In his journey he noticed one heavy steel door locked from the outside was his only means of escape. Obliviously the door was manifested to keep someone in instead of out and all around the walls, floor and air bled dampness. Stewart could not reach the ceiling, therefore he couldn't tell if it bread the same dank, dampness the rest of the chamber did, but he assumed it must.
He searched his pockets a little more carefully for any signs of his existence or whereabouts and realizing he had inside pockets he had not looked in previously in his shirt, he fumbled his hands into them a little too quickly with anticipation tearing them slightly. Finding a small object in his right hand inside pocket, Linden reveled in the fact that he could at least have some closure of his dim thoughts for the time being. He brought the tiny cardboard pack out and opened it carefully treating it as though it were gold and it would break if he opened it too eagerly. It was a book of matches. Excitedly he pried the matchbox open almost wrecking it in the process. His numb fingers and sweaty hands trembled fiercely as he finally unfolded the matches. Quickly running his fingers over the contents of the book he landed what he was looking for. A single match. Wiping his scrawling hands one at a time on his pant leg , he took a deep breath, knowing it was his only chance, and lit the match on the first strike.
Turning around slowly in a full circle he saw his own private hell for the first time and gasped. "My God." The ceiling stood at least 20 feet if it was an inch above the old callous stone floor and in the far right hand corner hung a battered and worn skeleton. Linden whimpered and drew back as if the skeleton jumped out and bit him. His jaws agape, Linden uncertainly walked to his ragged cellmate. His match became shorter by the moment and he tore at his sleeve frantically. Reaching up in a split second and quickly tearing the femur bone from the dilapidated bag of bones, Stewart remarked quietly, "I'm sure you don't need this anymore, mate." Placing the weathered remains on the frigid rock floor he wrapped his sleeve sound the tip and fastened it tightly. He lit it with his depleting match fastidiously before it burned out altogether.
The fire blazed brilliantly from his makeshift torch as he searched for a secure place to anchor his flickering light. He remembered the two loose bricks in the corner, and quickly scurried to the spot and planted the torch gingerly. "Now...If I could just remember where the hell I am, I'd be alright." Linden mused to the skeleton. "Well, never give up, keep a stiff upper lip, devil may care and all that utter crap."
Linden rubbed his rough hands together for warmth noticing for the first time just how cold and damp his domain was. As the cool walls and floor surrounded him he shuttered uncontrollably and scanned the small tomb-like room with unregarded apathy. His eyes were mere slits as he lurked them in and out of the shadows caressing the walls for some sort of portal or catch to unlock the door or reveal a secret passageway to freedom. Still nothing.
Again, Linden heard the faint rumbling rattling into his very soul and bones, and it seemed to be getting closer. The sound spark some memory deep within the crevices of his mind, but before Stewart could grasp it, it was gone and hopelessly lost.
Dismissing it once again, he plopped in the center of the cold concrete cell nervously waiting. "Well, it's obliviously a hard place to get out of, " Linden said with a quiver nodding to his cellmate. "Looks like this bloke had a run in with someone who did not agree with him. If I could only remember everything, I know I could get out of here. Jesus I should of listened to my mother and been an accountant instead of a spy."
Everything began to flood back in waves and flashes. His memory, his kids, his parents, and, oh God,...his wife."Why!" Linden screamed in blind anguish. Insane with rage Stewart beat on the heavy steel door with his fists until they were bruised and becoming bloody, "Let me out of here you bastards!"
Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as the events unfolded in his mind's eye. The memories. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to. His wife, Erica Linden, was dead. There was nothing he could of done for her. And her face...her face...Oh God, her face. He moaned like a wounded animal and slipped down to the ground coiled like a snake. Her torn, riddled body lying there on the icy September ground lifeless. No breath expelled from her once heavenly lungs, no beat emerged from her sturdy heart. "Blood, oh God, the blood." Linden sobbed. Flashes of her bloodied face raced through his unbelieving mind darkening every untouched corner with an icy preciseness. "Erica...My dear sweet Erica. I'm so sorry. Why? Why did this happen?" But even as he spoke the words he knew why. Stewart sunk into the unfeeling floor and his entire body felt like warmed jelly. Beating his fists on the unforgiving floor one more time for good measure he dispelled the sour contents of his empty stomach. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he shouted at the top of his lungs, "I'll get you! Do you hear me? I'll get you and when I do I will kill you!" His body, wrecked with tears and wrenched with pain heaved twice more and everything faded to black.
He slept. Sleep came quickly for him, but it was disturbed with visions of a dark clad figure slowly and effortlessly raping his thoughts. It was endless. The nightmares went on for what seemed like hours as he tossed and turned on the frigid stone floor uncomfortably. And no matter what he did the dark being probed and prodded him, not physically, but mentally.
Linden awoke abruptly with a start. Shaking the last remnants of the nightmares that still lingered in the darkest regions of his tired mind he fought back the tears threatening to overcome him. The very real nightmare encompassed him in his waking moments. The memories flooded back once again and he lost the battle and started sobbing deep and hard.
After the deepened fog cleared from his startled mind he turned his aching head and realized he had been moved from his dank cell. His cell mate was nowhere in sight and now instead of cold stone floor and walls he was nestled neatly in a warm bunk with the chain link walls of a prison cage. Hearing a faint hum, a bit like electricity in a fluorescent light warming up, Linden stirred and scrutinized his surrounding cell. Light flooded through the fencing from the long corridor and Stewart struggled into a sitting position while wiping the last remnants of sleep from his swollen eyes.
Linden leaned against the cage wall in a daze when the rumbling sound came again much louder this time than it was before. The rumbling sound became a grating like metal on metal. Gigantic metal doors were opening and closing and it was getting closer. Someone or something was coming for him. Stewart sat up straighter and busied himself with the residue of clothes he had on.
He heard heavy footsteps as whomever came to the final door and it opened with a loud whoosh. "Mr. Stewart Linden, A harsh foreign voice called from the doorway. "Y...Y...Yes?" Linden stammered unsure. Linden got to his feet quickly and straightened his ruffled pants and shirt the best he could, and reply with a little more authority, "Yes. I'm Stewart Linden." The voice unlocked the steel door to the cage and replied with no emotion, "If you will come with me." The cage creaked and croaked with the weight of the steel door and it rolled open with a loud bang as Linden stepped out into the well-lit hallway.
Strangely enough he couldn't make out the stranger's facial features nor could he place the accent. It was unlike any he'd heard before in his life time. A cold, unfeeling hand gripped his wrist with immeasurable strength as the foreign man gasped, "This way." And for a moment the stranger's face seemed to change. It rippled as if he was presenting a new face. In an instant it was gone and Stewart blinked clearing his head before he really started to lose his frayed mind.
The two men walked in silence for what seemed like hours. Stewart watched the foreigner with horrid interest. His face displayed absolutely nothing. He was pale and cold and Stewart was sure the man had no human emotion left in him. When they finally reached their destination the stranger said, "Here," gesturing to a wooden seat in the middle of another small room and before Linden could say anything the stranger disappeared. "That bloke was a barrel of laughs." Linden mumbled to himself. He felt the stranger's gaze upon him penetrating his very soul. Wishing he had kept his big mouth shut, Linden shivered from head to toe trying to keep pace with the goose bumps running their own rendition of a hundred yard dash up and down his chilled spine. "Welcome," boomed a voice from the darkness. Linden jumped as though he had been goosed, "You scared the hell out of me!" Well, yes I usually have that exact effect on most people, " The voice spoke clearly and slowly with the same accent as the eerie guard. "My name is Leeland ." the voice said matter-of-factly. Linden stood agape and ran through his thoughts carefully before choosing his words. Leeland allowed the silence anticipating the barrage oncoming questions with a playful interest as Stewart tried to make out the familiar facial features shrouded in the darkness. In a loud, bold voice Linden claimed, "My name is Stewart Linden, I am special agent number 9126 and I demand to converse with my commander in London!" Leeland laughed uproariously. It was a grating sound as if laughter was not part of Leeland's every day life.
Leeland moved closer, raised his eyebrows and made a futile attempt at a whistle, "Well, well Mr. Linden. I have been greeted in all sorts of manners from men more than you and less than you, but never one as demanding as you. The fact that you are number,...What was it?" "9126." Linden muttered. "Ah, yes 9126. The fact that you are number 9126 holds no relevancy here. I do not care if you are a spy or a garbage collector. It makes no difference to me whatsoever." Leeland finished with a little chuckle. Linden thought about this information, turning it over and over in his rattled mind. Panic welled at the base of his mind and grew until he blurted out, "So, you are not the enemy?" Leeland laughed heartily again and coughed, "No, Mr. Linden, I am not the enemy. On the contrary, I could use a man with your...shall we say, skills." Leeland sniffed and lit a candle not too far away from Stewart's head with such speed an accuracy he wasn't sue he really saw it until the candle beamed brightly and flickered. "You're an intelligent man, Mr. Linden, are you not?" Leeland continued without missing a beat, "After you hear my proposal, I am sure you will say yes." Leeland waited for some response from his captivated audience but none came. "Allow me to begin, then." Leeland spoke clearly and evenly. "Feel free to stop me when you like and ask any questions." Leeland waited, still no response. "You and your family were on vacation and you all were abducted by my,...shall we say, staff and myself. My full name is Leeland Forsythe and my family has been in power for many, many centuries in this region and we will be here for many more. I was born approximately 450 years ago. I have seen many things, and I will see many more. And if you so choose you can live forever. Do you make the choice? Or do you choose to die now with your family?"
Linden stood completely dumbfounded. He could not believe his ears. Did this man just tell him what he thought he did or did he image the entire conversation? As if Leeland read Stewart's mind he calmly said, "No Mr. Linden, you are not imagining things." Linden jumped and stared at Leeland Forsythe in amazement. Stuttering, Linden finally found his tongue and spoke, "S...So...What you are...T...Telling...me is that you are a V...Vam...Vampire?" Leeland snickered, "No I am not what you perceive to be a vampire. I do drink blood and I choose my victims carefully, but I hold no resentment for garlic, crosses or wooden stakes. And sunlight, yes, sunlight is something I care not to think about." As if to prove his point Leeland reached out and grabbed the gold cross from around Linden's neck and held it in such a quick movement Linden didn't even see the man stutter and released it a few moments later unharmed speaking as he did it, "You see, Mr. Linden, the old myths do not always ring truth."
Stewart Linden shivered deep down inside his soul despite himself and muttered, "What of my family?" "Dead, as I just told you, Mr. Linden." Linden gasped in shock and surprise. "Oh, come now, Mr. Linden. surely you knew they were dead. Why would I spare them? They were too weak to endure the first bite. They all died too quickly."
Linden scanned the room quickly for a way out, found none and spoke in a raspy voice, "So, now you think after you've killed my entire family I will just allow you to make me one of you, just like that!" "Yes, I do. Once I present all the facts."
Stewart's mouth was dry, he licked his lips in a vague attempt to regain some control of his missing saliva, he swallowed hard, but the dryness did not succumb. "You see Mr. Linden, or should I call you, Stewart," without waiting for a reply Leeland went on, "You really have no choice because I've already bitten you once. All I have to do is bite again and drain you to death. Either way you will either die or come to my side. All that is required of you is to drink." Linden felt his own heart pounding in his chest as he unconsciously reached up and scraped his fingers across the neat puncture wounds on his neck. "Oh, God." Stewart squeaked and the dream came flooding back to him as clear as if it was happening all over again. His hands trembling erratically, Stewart Linden plopped down hard in the wooden chair provided for him. "If you come with me, Stewart, I'll show you beauty beyond any human belief. I will teach you and pamper you, and without me, you will die painfully and quickly. I will show you how to live and how rewarding life can be, if you just come to me."
Fighting every impulse he had Stewart looked dramatically away from the dark figure waiting just beyond the darkness, but he couldn't escape Leeland's eyes glaring at him, boring into him. Unable to control his feelings he was drawn to Leeland like a passionate lover. "Come." Leeland whispered, "Come to me, my child."
As if Stewart's feet and legs had minds of their own he moved closer to Leeland Forsythe for the first terrifying time since he entered the uncomfortable chamber. Welcome and complete understanding flared from Leeland's outstretched arms as Linden gradually and willingly came closer. Stewart's blood coursed through his mellow veins, pumping fiercely past his heart into his awaiting brain. Yearning for Leeland's touch, his warmth, and his knowledge, Stewart stepped closer into his open arms. Stroking his hair and caressing Stewart like a lost child, Leeland cooed, "There, there.Isn't that much better, my child?"
The two men stood there for minutes before Leeland spoke quietly, "It's time. It's time." Linden gazed deep into Leeland's dark violet eyes and discovered everything in his life that was missing. Leeland plummeted into Stewart's neck and heavily sucked his blood until almost dry for a second time that evening. Ecstasy raged through Linden's body and he could think of nothing else or anything else he wanted more than Leeland Forsythe. Leeland pulled away from Stewart and he hung on tightly while he offered his own vampire blood for the taking. Stewart drank thirstily. Lightheaded and swimming, Linden slumped against Leeland's hard, cool chest as the new blood bubbled and surged through his rich veins. Contentment spiraled through Stewart Linden's body as he sank deeper and deeper into the bliss Leeland Forsythe offered and he finally succumbed to.
Crimson
Copyright:3/5/98
Crimson
Dig deep in your gut
Spill the bloodied hatred
Get out of the rut
See who really cares.
If you're looking for answers, there are none
If you have questions, then just get in line
If you want peace, look deep inside your head
If you want to interrogate me, you'll be dead.
(chorus)
See the crimson flow
Through my dirty fingertips
See the crimson die
Too far to quit.
Slaughter of hundreds
Cast of a thousand
Sell for the highest bid
Believe me for what I am.
Feel the pain and horror, you may live
Feel nothing completes you, the way I did
If your feeling a bit detached, it's no problem
Life goes on for the rest of us, time served.
(chorus)
As I am
One and true
Bow to me
Nothing you can do.
As I walk
Among the dead
Give me strength
The blind led.
(chorus)
Crimson
Dig deep in your gut
Spill the bloodied hatred
Get out of the rut
See who really cares.
If you're looking for answers, there are none
If you have questions, then just get in line
If you want peace, look deep inside your head
If you want to interrogate me, you'll be dead.
(chorus)
See the crimson flow
Through my dirty fingertips
See the crimson die
Too far to quit.
Slaughter of hundreds
Cast of a thousand
Sell for the highest bid
Believe me for what I am.
Feel the pain and horror, you may live
Feel nothing completes you, the way I did
If your feeling a bit detached, it's no problem
Life goes on for the rest of us, time served.
(chorus)
As I am
One and true
Bow to me
Nothing you can do.
As I walk
Among the dead
Give me strength
The blind led.
(chorus)
Cold
Copyright: 12\26\98
Cold
The human condition
Needs some nutrition
And as you can see
It's all part of my killing spree.
Severing the feelings
Abrupt and kneeling
On the altar of finished death
And taking your dying last breath.
(pre-chorus)
It gives me great pleasure
To introduce myself
I am a fiend without regret
And you've threatened my health.
(chorus)
As the scene unfolds
You realize my pain
And stand alone
Raped of life and cold.
If only human contact
Could keep fate lacked
And you could swim
In a sea of whim.
Packing in disappointment
And making the dent
Keeping my distance
And shattering the suspense.
(repeat pre-chorus)
(repeat chorus)
Cold
The human condition
Needs some nutrition
And as you can see
It's all part of my killing spree.
Severing the feelings
Abrupt and kneeling
On the altar of finished death
And taking your dying last breath.
(pre-chorus)
It gives me great pleasure
To introduce myself
I am a fiend without regret
And you've threatened my health.
(chorus)
As the scene unfolds
You realize my pain
And stand alone
Raped of life and cold.
If only human contact
Could keep fate lacked
And you could swim
In a sea of whim.
Packing in disappointment
And making the dent
Keeping my distance
And shattering the suspense.
(repeat pre-chorus)
(repeat chorus)
Cloudfeather
Copyright: 2/14/96
Cloud feather
The man stands high atop a treacherous mountain
Calling spirits from the netherworld
Dust and sand flies in swirls like a fountain.
Feathers and a headdress completely caress him
He sincerely prays for rain to rid the drought
Shaking dust of from the canyon's rim.
Tribal drums ignite the speed of sound
The man, brave and true, reaches the sky
Seeing the future past he has personally found.
Slipping into a thunderous inducing trance
He sees things we could not understand
He wants justice, peace, co-existence and balance.
Turning circles with the ever-blue sky
The man chants and the drums grow loud
Tears well up as he sees his people die.
Stealing his land and giving beads in return
Killing his women and children
Watching solemnly as his domicile burns.
Winds gust, could it be a change of tide?
Will he see his people happy again?
He knows patience, his time he abides.
His blood runs red and pure like any man's
He's human and he counts for something
He sits still in a trance for hours watching the sand.
Smoke fills his lungs from the brisk, hot fire
Hope becomes eternal and he understands
That possibly his people will not die in funeral pyre's.
The man envisions himself on that mountain
His arms stretched as far as they will go
Swirling about his dirty feet the constant sand.
He captivates all the clouds and restless winds
His feathers ruffle in the rushing burst
He prays for the lives of his next of kin.
Cloud feather dances lightly atop the golden ridge
With unbridled, distinct passion
Out of nowhere appears a glorious bridge.
The old man opens his soulful eyes in alarm
He sinks gratefully to his rigid knees
His prayers answered bringing no real harm.
The gentle winds of ultimate fury subside
And the man falls in exhaustion
For now on his people must not run and hide.
As he slips away into oblivion's dark cave
He smiles and flips his wrinkled hands in the air
In death, his people are saved.
The bridge connected the two worlds and times
And the man traveled his last journey
Making plenty room for more of his own kind.
Disappearing the bridge folded and rolled away
Cloud feather’s headdress fell from the sky
Depicting the next chief of time today.
Baying Wolf picked up the beautiful headdress
And swore right there before God and man
He would try filling cloud feather’s shoes at his best.
Cloud feather
The man stands high atop a treacherous mountain
Calling spirits from the netherworld
Dust and sand flies in swirls like a fountain.
Feathers and a headdress completely caress him
He sincerely prays for rain to rid the drought
Shaking dust of from the canyon's rim.
Tribal drums ignite the speed of sound
The man, brave and true, reaches the sky
Seeing the future past he has personally found.
Slipping into a thunderous inducing trance
He sees things we could not understand
He wants justice, peace, co-existence and balance.
Turning circles with the ever-blue sky
The man chants and the drums grow loud
Tears well up as he sees his people die.
Stealing his land and giving beads in return
Killing his women and children
Watching solemnly as his domicile burns.
Winds gust, could it be a change of tide?
Will he see his people happy again?
He knows patience, his time he abides.
His blood runs red and pure like any man's
He's human and he counts for something
He sits still in a trance for hours watching the sand.
Smoke fills his lungs from the brisk, hot fire
Hope becomes eternal and he understands
That possibly his people will not die in funeral pyre's.
The man envisions himself on that mountain
His arms stretched as far as they will go
Swirling about his dirty feet the constant sand.
He captivates all the clouds and restless winds
His feathers ruffle in the rushing burst
He prays for the lives of his next of kin.
Cloud feather dances lightly atop the golden ridge
With unbridled, distinct passion
Out of nowhere appears a glorious bridge.
The old man opens his soulful eyes in alarm
He sinks gratefully to his rigid knees
His prayers answered bringing no real harm.
The gentle winds of ultimate fury subside
And the man falls in exhaustion
For now on his people must not run and hide.
As he slips away into oblivion's dark cave
He smiles and flips his wrinkled hands in the air
In death, his people are saved.
The bridge connected the two worlds and times
And the man traveled his last journey
Making plenty room for more of his own kind.
Disappearing the bridge folded and rolled away
Cloud feather’s headdress fell from the sky
Depicting the next chief of time today.
Baying Wolf picked up the beautiful headdress
And swore right there before God and man
He would try filling cloud feather’s shoes at his best.
Childless
Childless
Copyright - 1/25/96
A mother's worry
Identity crisis
She waits calmly
Awaiting unsure
She sits alone
Staggered guidance
Love's a stones throw away.
A cold bench
Assured safety
She sits calmly
Not quite sure
She sits alone
No one understands
Life's a gift that shouldn't be cast aside.
A life wriggling
Deep within
She sits uneasy
Definitely unsure
She sits alone
designated bliss
Love knows no boundaries.
A short term
Memory lapses
She sits giddy
Unsteady and horrified
She sits alone
No one cares
Excluding a part of her that shouldn't.
A cold, dark room
Time elapsed
She lies upset
It should be over
She lies alone
Life to a close
Cutting loose ends and surviving.
Too much time
Heals no wounds
She rocks crying
Life she's bred
Now lies alone
Wishes and chaos
Couldn't bring the unborn back.
Copyright - 1/25/96
A mother's worry
Identity crisis
She waits calmly
Awaiting unsure
She sits alone
Staggered guidance
Love's a stones throw away.
A cold bench
Assured safety
She sits calmly
Not quite sure
She sits alone
No one understands
Life's a gift that shouldn't be cast aside.
A life wriggling
Deep within
She sits uneasy
Definitely unsure
She sits alone
designated bliss
Love knows no boundaries.
A short term
Memory lapses
She sits giddy
Unsteady and horrified
She sits alone
No one cares
Excluding a part of her that shouldn't.
A cold, dark room
Time elapsed
She lies upset
It should be over
She lies alone
Life to a close
Cutting loose ends and surviving.
Too much time
Heals no wounds
She rocks crying
Life she's bred
Now lies alone
Wishes and chaos
Couldn't bring the unborn back.
Catastrophe
Copyright: 2/14/96
Catastrophe
When the big man puts his thumb on the pulse of the nation
He gets what he precisely deserves.
When the sky burns red and he sees life is coming to a halt
People buck and contort their nerves.
Catastrophic times will never cease and he knows what will happen
But does he think to do what's just?
The world is an angry planet burning uncontrollably out
Does the man thrive on his power trip lust?
When the end comes oh so near, do we blame him ourselves?
Is the world cursed or plagued?
When the man in charge destroys life and makes the wrong injust decision
Does the man conquer the rage?
When the man sails too high and mighty and decides to play God
Does he make a mistake? Is he sure?
When the man realizes his clenched fate, does he run or face the consequence?
How does he keep us all together pure?
The man swims his hands in the world's thriving, struggling national debt
Does he spend unwisely knowing in regret?
If the man thinks he can control all, doesn't he know he will be just as dead?
He leads us blindly, the stage now set.
When the man sits very cold and alone, does he remember the little people?
Can the man stand to be the only one left?
When the man realizes his own indigent farce, is it too late? Does he know?
The hours of the glass will shift.
Catastrophe
When the big man puts his thumb on the pulse of the nation
He gets what he precisely deserves.
When the sky burns red and he sees life is coming to a halt
People buck and contort their nerves.
Catastrophic times will never cease and he knows what will happen
But does he think to do what's just?
The world is an angry planet burning uncontrollably out
Does the man thrive on his power trip lust?
When the end comes oh so near, do we blame him ourselves?
Is the world cursed or plagued?
When the man in charge destroys life and makes the wrong injust decision
Does the man conquer the rage?
When the man sails too high and mighty and decides to play God
Does he make a mistake? Is he sure?
When the man realizes his clenched fate, does he run or face the consequence?
How does he keep us all together pure?
The man swims his hands in the world's thriving, struggling national debt
Does he spend unwisely knowing in regret?
If the man thinks he can control all, doesn't he know he will be just as dead?
He leads us blindly, the stage now set.
When the man sits very cold and alone, does he remember the little people?
Can the man stand to be the only one left?
When the man realizes his own indigent farce, is it too late? Does he know?
The hours of the glass will shift.
Brutal Water Burial
Written: 10/19/91
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Brutal Water Burial
Condemned to this watery grave, restricted to the womb
I'm the sole product of your malevolent foreplay of doom
Innocence has no bearing, quiet embryo, child of will and might
Judge, jury, executioner, murder, what gives you the right?
Encompassed in my conscious purgatory, I lie and dolefully wait
Committing mental suicide, your wisdom is a pearl of hate
I'm a saddened babe in the woods, hell is all I see
Mixed-up emotions, project:termination, you will soon betray me.
Silent in my solitary confinement, I await the axe to fall
Cast away and unwanted like a living, breathing human doll
The hideous monster creeps slowly into my darkened doorway
Extraction on the rise, nothing can I do or likewise say.
My small, disfigured body is mangled beyond recognition
Malformed and torn, love's little package, life's new addition
Heaving my last sigh, I let out my final silent scream
To be unheard, falling upon deaf ears, no this is not a dream.
(pre-chorus)
Who gave you the divine right to kill?
Or does it just give you a twisted thrill?
(Chorus)
Brutal Water Burial
copyright 1992 Demented Thinking Productions
Brutal Water Burial
Condemned to this watery grave, restricted to the womb
I'm the sole product of your malevolent foreplay of doom
Innocence has no bearing, quiet embryo, child of will and might
Judge, jury, executioner, murder, what gives you the right?
Encompassed in my conscious purgatory, I lie and dolefully wait
Committing mental suicide, your wisdom is a pearl of hate
I'm a saddened babe in the woods, hell is all I see
Mixed-up emotions, project:termination, you will soon betray me.
Silent in my solitary confinement, I await the axe to fall
Cast away and unwanted like a living, breathing human doll
The hideous monster creeps slowly into my darkened doorway
Extraction on the rise, nothing can I do or likewise say.
My small, disfigured body is mangled beyond recognition
Malformed and torn, love's little package, life's new addition
Heaving my last sigh, I let out my final silent scream
To be unheard, falling upon deaf ears, no this is not a dream.
(pre-chorus)
Who gave you the divine right to kill?
Or does it just give you a twisted thrill?
(Chorus)
Brutal Water Burial
Breaking The Demon's Back
Copyright: 2/19/98
Breaking the Demon's Back
Watch the blood roll down your cheek
Saturation complete, A deadly blow
Bouncing back, Life in total control
Oneness with the status quo.
It simmers in the hearts of humans
Beating constantly, a life's vow
Getting real, the destination unknown
Look at the clock, time is now.
Sit and do nothing while hatred burns
Reading their faces a definite high
Killing the masses, watching them die
Bleeding them dead, it's now your turn.
(pre-chorus)
Is it truly real?
It's so surreal
Is it really fate?
It's just my hate.
A man watches the agony, despaired thoughts
Too many to count
Normal man with angered fuel burning doubt
Rules are sought.
Send him your money, dreams of meeting God
Fearsome and brutal rage fits
Saved with the trodden shit, everyone's unarmed
Beaten and kicked.
To his knees, cursed, swears no more
He raises it high, his heavy hand
The fucking rubbish, decorating the land
Strikes them down, settling the score.
(pre-chorus)
(chorus)
Where are the lies?
Where lies the truth?
Breaking the demon's back
What are their cries?
Do the cries seek the truth?
Breaking the demon's back
Tie 'em up
Throw 'em away
And enter them
Categorize them
And herd them
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's
Breaking the demon's
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's back.
Breaking the Demon's Back
Watch the blood roll down your cheek
Saturation complete, A deadly blow
Bouncing back, Life in total control
Oneness with the status quo.
It simmers in the hearts of humans
Beating constantly, a life's vow
Getting real, the destination unknown
Look at the clock, time is now.
Sit and do nothing while hatred burns
Reading their faces a definite high
Killing the masses, watching them die
Bleeding them dead, it's now your turn.
(pre-chorus)
Is it truly real?
It's so surreal
Is it really fate?
It's just my hate.
A man watches the agony, despaired thoughts
Too many to count
Normal man with angered fuel burning doubt
Rules are sought.
Send him your money, dreams of meeting God
Fearsome and brutal rage fits
Saved with the trodden shit, everyone's unarmed
Beaten and kicked.
To his knees, cursed, swears no more
He raises it high, his heavy hand
The fucking rubbish, decorating the land
Strikes them down, settling the score.
(pre-chorus)
(chorus)
Where are the lies?
Where lies the truth?
Breaking the demon's back
What are their cries?
Do the cries seek the truth?
Breaking the demon's back
Tie 'em up
Throw 'em away
And enter them
Categorize them
And herd them
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's
Breaking the demon's
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's back
Breaking the demon's back.
Bid My Lover To Thee
Copyright - 01/20/01
Bid My Lover to Thee
As I sit alone and forever waiting
I seek the one and true, my love
It seems a lifetime has passed me by
And he will bring my soul to rest
The night it creaks and moans his song
As I prepare for the awaiting moon
And I dive into love as waves sing.
My lover knows me in this and the other
Realms, which cannot be tested beyond knowledge
For my lover bids me to come
And he waits on his own time
As the stars grace the midnight air
I bid him to come to thee
Bring him close and near as it were.
He knows when I sleep, he knows when I wake
My lover sends his love on the highway
Of life and the physical astral planes
His love enlightens me through my day
And I will know no significant other
Until my lover comes home for me
Waiting for his move to make.
I bid my lover greetings to thee
And I know he will bring love on his wings
For he is my sun, my moon, and my night
In which I live and thrive through the day
Enveloping my darkness I’ll succumb
To his whims once in his arms
And now I wait and bide my time for he.
As he sends his love along the rose petals of night
I compel myself to greet his open arms
And drown my sorrows in his chest
As the moon rises in the sky I pray
Thee would flee to me with kindness
I bid thee my love and crown thee my king
And help me end my plight.
My lover can only be true and fair to me
As he winds down the road to passion
I am here and awaiting his calm touch
He brings forth the moment without despair
And the man to whom I wait longs
I linger in his arms at finally last
And now my love for him can be set free.
Bid My Lover to Thee
As I sit alone and forever waiting
I seek the one and true, my love
It seems a lifetime has passed me by
And he will bring my soul to rest
The night it creaks and moans his song
As I prepare for the awaiting moon
And I dive into love as waves sing.
My lover knows me in this and the other
Realms, which cannot be tested beyond knowledge
For my lover bids me to come
And he waits on his own time
As the stars grace the midnight air
I bid him to come to thee
Bring him close and near as it were.
He knows when I sleep, he knows when I wake
My lover sends his love on the highway
Of life and the physical astral planes
His love enlightens me through my day
And I will know no significant other
Until my lover comes home for me
Waiting for his move to make.
I bid my lover greetings to thee
And I know he will bring love on his wings
For he is my sun, my moon, and my night
In which I live and thrive through the day
Enveloping my darkness I’ll succumb
To his whims once in his arms
And now I wait and bide my time for he.
As he sends his love along the rose petals of night
I compel myself to greet his open arms
And drown my sorrows in his chest
As the moon rises in the sky I pray
Thee would flee to me with kindness
I bid thee my love and crown thee my king
And help me end my plight.
My lover can only be true and fair to me
As he winds down the road to passion
I am here and awaiting his calm touch
He brings forth the moment without despair
And the man to whom I wait longs
I linger in his arms at finally last
And now my love for him can be set free.
Better Left Alone
Copyright - 03/10/00
Better Left Alone
Ripe and upturned death walls open
To reveal something of the past
A brief moment of forgiveness
A brief moment of fright
As the ghoulish figure appears in sight.
Huge stones roll away casting dents
The once man stands a lit to a curse
A brief moment of quakes
A brief moment of shock
As the mummy thuds down with a chop.
Strands of stray material cling to
The creature before you as you kneel
A brief moment of tears
A brief moment of pasts
As the thing gets you in his grasp.
Madness and insanity begin to reign
Within the confines of a mortal man
A brief moment of desire
A brief moment of terror
Freezes man as the thing speaks a slur.
Settled into it’s hands and seeing
Nothing but darkness within your head
A brief moment to calculate
A brief moment to flee
As the mummy stops seizing me.
Artifacts and gold the last I see
Within the dangerous mummy’s tomb
A brief moment to pray
A brief moment to hope
That I can escape and begin to cope.
Better Left Alone
Ripe and upturned death walls open
To reveal something of the past
A brief moment of forgiveness
A brief moment of fright
As the ghoulish figure appears in sight.
Huge stones roll away casting dents
The once man stands a lit to a curse
A brief moment of quakes
A brief moment of shock
As the mummy thuds down with a chop.
Strands of stray material cling to
The creature before you as you kneel
A brief moment of tears
A brief moment of pasts
As the thing gets you in his grasp.
Madness and insanity begin to reign
Within the confines of a mortal man
A brief moment of desire
A brief moment of terror
Freezes man as the thing speaks a slur.
Settled into it’s hands and seeing
Nothing but darkness within your head
A brief moment to calculate
A brief moment to flee
As the mummy stops seizing me.
Artifacts and gold the last I see
Within the dangerous mummy’s tomb
A brief moment to pray
A brief moment to hope
That I can escape and begin to cope.
Behind Enemy Lines
Copyright 1996 by: Demented Thinking Productions
In Loving Memory Of: Ted M. Holdren
Based on true accounts of an 82nd Airborne Division Soldier during World War II
Behind Enemy Lines
An old man, wrought with aching pains and disease sat upon his roomy screened in porch watching the sun’s violet rays play upon the Saint John’s River in Jacksonville, Florida as it set slowly. The bright golden rays leaped and danced bringing to existence a fiery image of lives past and gone through an old man’s sharp memory. As he quietly pondered the long, but unforgotten past, water laps the river shore gently as a small speedboat cruises by displaying girls in bikinis and guys in shorts.
The man observes his own wrinkled hands carefully as if they would give some indication or comfort from his unbearable pain. Flexing them unconsciously he lets out a deep sigh and surveys the quaint porch with a detached fascination.
A gentle breeze blows the new autumn leaves peacefully, scraping the patio ground as the old man fixes his unblinking gaze on his eldest grand daughter, Becky. “A man,” he began almost startling the child out of her chair, “Goes through life wondering if he’s made the right choices or decisions. He grows up, goes to war, comes home, gets married, has three lovely children, watches his eldest depart to a better place in Heaven, gets sicker and then finally dies. Life is life, and death, well, death is, death, but it’s not so final as everyone likes to think. Do you understand?” Becky, surprised the man had said anything at all blinked and replied, “I think so.”
The elderly man shifted in his seat uncomfortably stealing one more glance at the uncanny sunset and finally says, “What I mean is, life is a complicated series of ups and downs and we all do our best to make it enjoyable, but no one lives forever.” Knowing exactly what he meant since her own mother passed away 4 years earlier, Becky turned her head not wanting her grandfather to see her cry. Viewing the spectacular sunset disappearing quietly behind the St. John’s Bridge a lonely tear streamed down her right cheek and plopped delicately to the ground beside her without a sound. Lines creviced deeply in the man’s weathered face as his brows frowned in dismay.
Deciding for the time being to drop the sordid subject of death, the man switched to another one quickly. “Did I ever tell you about the time we parachuted behind enemy lines in East Germany?” The little girl, knowing full good and well he had told her many times and memorizing the story by heart, but wanting deeply to hear it again surprisingly said, “No grandpa, I don’t think you told me that one.” The man smiled widely giving off a slight chuckle so much like him the little girl had to smile herself.
Finding a comfortable story position his ancient bones creaked and groaned as he began with a little more enthusiasm. “Well then. I’ll tell ya!” Clasping his big hands in front of his warm, untimely face he flickered a smile and narrated, “It was night time and as dark as the ace of spades. We were flying over West Germany and we were scheduled to drop at 22:30 hours. The natives were restless; as they say, and everyone fidgeted with their uniforms, jumping gear, boot laces, or eyeglasses whichever they had and whatever made them more comfortable. Several of us rechecked our parachutes and thought about the upcoming jump. Some prayed. I checked my parachute, ammunition, weapon, and prayed just to cover all basis. Once I was satisfied everything was ready to go I fumbled with my boot laces just like the rest of ‘em, saying my silent prayers for a safe return home.”
The man gave a little nervous chuckle and continued, “Now, there was this one fella in our outfit named Brady, I think, hell, I don’t know it could have been anything, it was a long time ago. Anyway, it was Brady’s first jump with our outfit. It was his first jump anywhere except probably out of bed, and he was as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. He must of checked his equipment, oh I’d say at least ten times and I think he said at least a good dozen prayers.”
The old man smiled broadly and laughed again remembering Brady’s nervousness. Clearing his throat he continued, “Time had come for the jump. Everyone lined up like robots and got ready to plunge into the uncertain European darkness that came consistent throughout the war. Everyone except Brady, that is. I don’t know if the man sensed his own fate to come or if he was just plain scared to death like the rest of us. Some people just seem to know what’s about to happen and they become scared and tense as a frog caught in the gig light somewhere deep in the swamp, but he jumped. So did we all.”
As he shifted his position to a more comfortable spot since nothing seemed comfortable to him anymore, the old man sighed aloud and whistled at nothing in particular, “Did you know I was in the 82nd Airborne Division, Becky?” Becky stared at the man blankly for a moment pondering this information carefully and finally answered with excitement, “Yes sir!” The old man smiled and nodded ruffling his grand daughter’s hair, “Yep! I jumped all over the world, but no jump would compare or compete with that one. Hell, I even jumped in Africa where the Desert Fox, Rummel, holed up with his troops, but still there was no comparison. Well, as I said, time had come to jump. Our Lieutenant gave the direct order to go and I’ll be damned if he didn’t actually fling poor Brady out the plane first. The Lieutenant was a damned fool and Brady was a good man. Anyway, just like the rest, I waited my turn for the big push out into the unknowing darkness and when it came it was as surprising as it was the first time the lieutenant shoved me out of the small door into the night air. The total shock of diving through midair more or less against your own free will as wind drove hard through your eardrums until your head felt like it was afire with the pain is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy and I never care to see it or do it again. Why people jump out of a perfectly good, flyable airplane for fun is beyond me.”
The old man fell silent casting his gaze across the black river at the now twinkling lights lining the opposite shore. The sun had long fallen away into blank darkness and the crickets sang and chirped a tune only the insects shared at night. Frogs rang their plea boldly with their own version of the cacophony as mosquitoes flew feverishly about landing on anything that could possibly satisfy their hunger. The man swatted a lone mosquito biting his lower forearm in a quick, unthinking motion before he spoke quietly again. “Yep. There’s a definite surge of adrenalin when a man plunges 20,000 feet out of a moving airplane.”
Ruffling Becky’s hair affectionately, the old man took up his story where he left off, “Well, as usual in the military, things did not go one hundred percent according to plan. The supplies we needed were dropped before we jumped and for all I know they could still be looking for them to this day. One thing’s for certain, we never saw hide nor hair of them. In a very odd way it makes a man wonder if they were dropped at all. It makes you think that some high and mighty pilot back on that bucket of nuts and bolts you just flung yourself from for God, country, and mankind is sitting there in his warm cockpit flying away in the night sky with a candid camera crew laughing hysterically watching us below search for something that obviously wasn’t there in the first place. That was the first to many, many clues as to how this particular jump was going to be. The second clue was young, handsome Brady. That kid had a wife and a 3-month-old daughter back home in Oregon. He showed everyone their picture and held it like a talisman day in and day out. Both were widowed that fatal night. I had the unfortunate displeasure of finding Brady’s broken body. You see, his landing wasn’t as easy as the rest of ours were. He found the one sturdy tree in the whole German countryside left still standing. It broke his fall and unfortunately his neck with it. He was tangled up in a twisted mess when I found him. It made me sick to my stomach staring into his dark, pleading eyes, knowing there was nothing I or anyone could do for him. I cut him down as quietly as possible and hid him well under some brush to cover our tracks. I closed his eyes, said a silent prayer for him and made a mental note to write Mrs. Brady when I got myself out of this mess. I’ll never erase his face from my memory as long as I live. He was so damned scared to jump, and he died just as scared. It was painless and quick for Brady, and that’s the only good thing about it, some were not that lucky. I still see his terrified face before I go to sleep at night and the first thing when I wake in the morning. I’ve often wondered over the years how Mrs. Brady held up through it all, but I guess like many other World War II widows, she went home to her mother and grieved her tragic loss. Brady was such a family man, always holding the picture of his wife and daughter before going to sleep. He’d look at them for what seemed like hours without moving. He loved them, God, and his country dearly. It was a real shame, a real shame.”
The fragile man shook his head sadly back and forth before he continued with a sigh, “Well, ole Brady wasn’t the only causality, there were many others throughout the time of the war. Some just like ‘em, some different. By the time we figured out the supplies had not landed any where nearby the Sergeant informed us we were just as lost as the supplies were. To make matters worse, we were four miles off course and four miles behind enemy lines in the heart of East Germany. Murphy’s law, I guess. If it can go wrong, it probably will. And everything about that night in particular went wrong. Along with venomous snakes and deadly insects we had to be on the lookout for armed and dangerous Nazi troops. Sometimes I think it was better that Brady met his fate before we found out our location. Death might have been better for him. I don’t think he would of made it through the long hike back to fight, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”
“We took immediate cover in a thicket of bushes nearby completely equipped with thorns and brambles. I don’t know what kind of bushes they were, I didn’t ask. It was pitch black and you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Shells and magazines ripped through the warm night air from all sides of us in the distance.”
“Oddly enough a man could hear various forms of wildlife with all the noise in the background voicing its pleas in the embezzlement of unwanted sounds in every direction. Some friendly. Some not so friendly. Crickets, insects of all kinds and things much larger I didn’t care to come into contact with stirred all about us. It could be downright deafening and would make your skin crawl if you had even the slightest idea what kind of animals peered out at you through the inky darkness watching and waiting. Sometimes, hell most of the time, we had had to sleep on bedrolls under the stars at night. One morning I awoke to an unwanted visitor in the bag with me. If someone hadn’t of told me to be careful when I got out of the bag in the morning I would of died long before this jump. I had to slowly and carefully peel back my bedroll to reveal poisonous snakes more than once the four years I was at war. Snakes take liberty at your feet in the bedroll because they seek warmth. It scared me to death. My heart felt like a sledgehammer beating on bare metal as I quickly flipped him 20 yards away with the barrel of my riffle. Before you put your boots on in the morning when we were in the desert you had to turn them upside down and shake out the scorpions or any other critters that stowed away in the night. Yep. That’s defiantly where my heart problems started I think.”
Becky, wide-eyed and astonished, swallowed hard. She couldn’t imagine waking up every morning shaking her bed and shoes out before moving. The ancient man grinned broadly portraying perfectly lined dentures and turned his head to the side so his only grand daughter would not see him giggling at her amazed look. “What kind of snake was it, grandpa?” Becky asked meekly. “Now,” the old man countered, “I don’t rightly know and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask the slithery fella either. All I know is I didn’t like him curling up beside me uninvited.”
Waving his hand in the air diligently signifying enough questions and getting back to the business at hand, the man tweaked Becky’s nose and continued his story while the little girl laughed happily. “There was some confusion to begin with,” he began again, “The sarge looked like a man possessed trying to pinpoint our exact location. It’s not easy giving the obvious fact that there were no road signs telling us exactly where we were, but ole sarge was really good at finding out our exact location by examining the lay of the land. As a matter of fact, I believe he was one of the few men of the world that rarely got lost. I doubt if any woman sat in the passenger seat of his car asking him if they were lost or just taking some absurd detour. Ole sarge would of found his way out of Fort Knox on a wing and a prayer. I never saw him lost and I suppose the man had never been lost a day in his life. Well, it took ole sarge about ten minutes to pinpoint our location. He knew exactly where we were and he knew exactly how to go from there. Sarge informed us that we had to walk (or hike as he put it) west 4 miles to meet the drop spot. Everyone moaned silently including me. He instructed us not to talk and not to light any cigarettes.” The little girl looked puzzled, “But why, grandpa?”
The man stared out at the stars reflecting in the night sky and glanced at the moonlight dripping across the river in streams before answering quietly. His face and demeanor duplicated a serious tone frightening Becky slightly. “The Germans.” He said solemnly. Becky gazed at him for a long moment in total disbelief. “If a man,” her grandfather said seriously, “Lit a cigarette or talked it would give away the position of the entire company. The Germans would see the flicker of the lighter or hear a voice and fire everything they had in our general direction killing everyone.” Becky pondered this information carefully and looked back into her grandfather’s warm, sensitive face. Sighing, the old man continued, “We grabbed our gear, what we had that is, and began walking to the west. We were in the midst of a heavy forest and it became increasingly difficult to move through the underbrush silently. As tough as it was, we somehow made it without a hitch. As we stepped into a clearing all hell broke loose. Gunfire rained through the trees sprinkling chaos everywhere it landed and hit the man next to me directly in the heart killing him instantly. His name was, Sanderson, I believe. He fell dead right at my feet and I hardly had time to think. I hit the ground pulling the other man next to me down as quickly as I possibly could. No one moved, breathed or spoke for what seemed like hours. The problem was we didn’t know for sure if the whole freaking German army waited on the other side of the clearing or if it was one lonely man strayed from his outfit cold and alone. Silence bated the heavy night air and finally we could hear the sniper running away from us through the underbrush on the other side. We knew he was alone, but we also knew there would be more close by. We waited, oh; it must have been at least ten minutes before regrouping. We had to get out of there, and fast, so we took a hasty turn south and moved swiftly through the thick forest again. We knew we were getting closer to the front line and we were a little more tense than usual. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up at attention prickling my skin and I broke out into a cold sweat even though it felt like it was 20 degrees. I’ll tell ya, you haven’t seen or smelled fear until you’ve been put into a situation like that. All the other men around me knew it too. It’s the kind of fear you go to bed at night thinking of and you sleep with one eye open and one eye closed. You wake up in the morning stiff and felling as though you didn’t sleep a wink the night before. Yep, no fear like that fear. Yep.”
The old man paused glancing thoughtfully over the blackened water. Waves gently lapped the shore and a mullet answered with a splash of its own somewhere near the pine pier. Becky’s bright blue eyes cut through the darkness and she urged, “Go on, grandpa!” The old man looked at his grand daughter lovingly and asked, “Oh! You want me to finish the story, do you?” Becky laughed in spite of herself heartily and retorted quickly, “Of course I do!” The man ruffled Becky’s head of blonde hair vigorously and said, “Well, if you say so. Well, when ole serge deemed we had gone far enough south we turned west again and headed toward our original destination. We were supposed to hit a small German armory at the front line. I guess I can tell ya that, makes no difference now. Sarge made us fall out to rest while he calculated our distance. We had already gone 5 miles including the 2-mile detour south through the woods. Sarge told us we were just about there. We had to quickly hit the place and get out before the Germans had time to retaliate. We were supposed to meet a chopper at 05:30 hours in a clearing about a mile away from the armory. It would safely bring us back to an English Air Force base just outside of London. We rested for 15-20 minutes. It seemed to fly by. Things always seem that way when they are good, but when it’s bad it seems to take forever. We had roughly a mile to go, so we gathered our gear and got started again. After a good 45 minutes of twisting and turning through the thicket we snuck up on the armory and the sarge did his usual quick calculations. He figured there were four guards on foot with dogs and two in the tower. There was 15-20 of us so we had it covered. I was in charge of throwing the grenades into the armory blowing it up. Four others quietly took out the guards and their trusting companions while five others ran in and threw the grenades into the small armory. We had one fella who was a damn good sniper shot stationed in a tree just in case. He took out the two in the tower with speed and the accuracy of a rattlesnake. Everything blew up and the entire squad hauled buggy for cover in the woods. There must have been one German soldier caught inside the tin building because I heard the most unbelievably pathetic cry of pain, I think I’ve ever heard in my life. When a man experiences pain like that he always tends to sound like a wild animal caught in a trap rather than a man. It was a high-pitched, piercing scream and very final. It sent chills down my spine. We met up with our helicopter on time and flew safely to much more friendly ground. I’ll never forget that jump as long as I live. Yep. Not in a million years.” The old man yawned and stretched. Standing he turned to face Becky and advised, “It’s past your bed time little lady.” Becky blinked and mumbled, “I love you, grandpa. Your stories are so neat.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and scampered off to bed. He watched her go as if it was the last time and whispered, “I love you too. I only wish you knew really how much.”
The tired old man retired for the evening to his own bed and never regained consciousness the next morning. But, as Becky went through her life, she always did know just how much he really did love her.
In Loving Memory Of: Ted M. Holdren
Based on true accounts of an 82nd Airborne Division Soldier during World War II
Behind Enemy Lines
An old man, wrought with aching pains and disease sat upon his roomy screened in porch watching the sun’s violet rays play upon the Saint John’s River in Jacksonville, Florida as it set slowly. The bright golden rays leaped and danced bringing to existence a fiery image of lives past and gone through an old man’s sharp memory. As he quietly pondered the long, but unforgotten past, water laps the river shore gently as a small speedboat cruises by displaying girls in bikinis and guys in shorts.
The man observes his own wrinkled hands carefully as if they would give some indication or comfort from his unbearable pain. Flexing them unconsciously he lets out a deep sigh and surveys the quaint porch with a detached fascination.
A gentle breeze blows the new autumn leaves peacefully, scraping the patio ground as the old man fixes his unblinking gaze on his eldest grand daughter, Becky. “A man,” he began almost startling the child out of her chair, “Goes through life wondering if he’s made the right choices or decisions. He grows up, goes to war, comes home, gets married, has three lovely children, watches his eldest depart to a better place in Heaven, gets sicker and then finally dies. Life is life, and death, well, death is, death, but it’s not so final as everyone likes to think. Do you understand?” Becky, surprised the man had said anything at all blinked and replied, “I think so.”
The elderly man shifted in his seat uncomfortably stealing one more glance at the uncanny sunset and finally says, “What I mean is, life is a complicated series of ups and downs and we all do our best to make it enjoyable, but no one lives forever.” Knowing exactly what he meant since her own mother passed away 4 years earlier, Becky turned her head not wanting her grandfather to see her cry. Viewing the spectacular sunset disappearing quietly behind the St. John’s Bridge a lonely tear streamed down her right cheek and plopped delicately to the ground beside her without a sound. Lines creviced deeply in the man’s weathered face as his brows frowned in dismay.
Deciding for the time being to drop the sordid subject of death, the man switched to another one quickly. “Did I ever tell you about the time we parachuted behind enemy lines in East Germany?” The little girl, knowing full good and well he had told her many times and memorizing the story by heart, but wanting deeply to hear it again surprisingly said, “No grandpa, I don’t think you told me that one.” The man smiled widely giving off a slight chuckle so much like him the little girl had to smile herself.
Finding a comfortable story position his ancient bones creaked and groaned as he began with a little more enthusiasm. “Well then. I’ll tell ya!” Clasping his big hands in front of his warm, untimely face he flickered a smile and narrated, “It was night time and as dark as the ace of spades. We were flying over West Germany and we were scheduled to drop at 22:30 hours. The natives were restless; as they say, and everyone fidgeted with their uniforms, jumping gear, boot laces, or eyeglasses whichever they had and whatever made them more comfortable. Several of us rechecked our parachutes and thought about the upcoming jump. Some prayed. I checked my parachute, ammunition, weapon, and prayed just to cover all basis. Once I was satisfied everything was ready to go I fumbled with my boot laces just like the rest of ‘em, saying my silent prayers for a safe return home.”
The man gave a little nervous chuckle and continued, “Now, there was this one fella in our outfit named Brady, I think, hell, I don’t know it could have been anything, it was a long time ago. Anyway, it was Brady’s first jump with our outfit. It was his first jump anywhere except probably out of bed, and he was as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. He must of checked his equipment, oh I’d say at least ten times and I think he said at least a good dozen prayers.”
The old man smiled broadly and laughed again remembering Brady’s nervousness. Clearing his throat he continued, “Time had come for the jump. Everyone lined up like robots and got ready to plunge into the uncertain European darkness that came consistent throughout the war. Everyone except Brady, that is. I don’t know if the man sensed his own fate to come or if he was just plain scared to death like the rest of us. Some people just seem to know what’s about to happen and they become scared and tense as a frog caught in the gig light somewhere deep in the swamp, but he jumped. So did we all.”
As he shifted his position to a more comfortable spot since nothing seemed comfortable to him anymore, the old man sighed aloud and whistled at nothing in particular, “Did you know I was in the 82nd Airborne Division, Becky?” Becky stared at the man blankly for a moment pondering this information carefully and finally answered with excitement, “Yes sir!” The old man smiled and nodded ruffling his grand daughter’s hair, “Yep! I jumped all over the world, but no jump would compare or compete with that one. Hell, I even jumped in Africa where the Desert Fox, Rummel, holed up with his troops, but still there was no comparison. Well, as I said, time had come to jump. Our Lieutenant gave the direct order to go and I’ll be damned if he didn’t actually fling poor Brady out the plane first. The Lieutenant was a damned fool and Brady was a good man. Anyway, just like the rest, I waited my turn for the big push out into the unknowing darkness and when it came it was as surprising as it was the first time the lieutenant shoved me out of the small door into the night air. The total shock of diving through midair more or less against your own free will as wind drove hard through your eardrums until your head felt like it was afire with the pain is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy and I never care to see it or do it again. Why people jump out of a perfectly good, flyable airplane for fun is beyond me.”
The old man fell silent casting his gaze across the black river at the now twinkling lights lining the opposite shore. The sun had long fallen away into blank darkness and the crickets sang and chirped a tune only the insects shared at night. Frogs rang their plea boldly with their own version of the cacophony as mosquitoes flew feverishly about landing on anything that could possibly satisfy their hunger. The man swatted a lone mosquito biting his lower forearm in a quick, unthinking motion before he spoke quietly again. “Yep. There’s a definite surge of adrenalin when a man plunges 20,000 feet out of a moving airplane.”
Ruffling Becky’s hair affectionately, the old man took up his story where he left off, “Well, as usual in the military, things did not go one hundred percent according to plan. The supplies we needed were dropped before we jumped and for all I know they could still be looking for them to this day. One thing’s for certain, we never saw hide nor hair of them. In a very odd way it makes a man wonder if they were dropped at all. It makes you think that some high and mighty pilot back on that bucket of nuts and bolts you just flung yourself from for God, country, and mankind is sitting there in his warm cockpit flying away in the night sky with a candid camera crew laughing hysterically watching us below search for something that obviously wasn’t there in the first place. That was the first to many, many clues as to how this particular jump was going to be. The second clue was young, handsome Brady. That kid had a wife and a 3-month-old daughter back home in Oregon. He showed everyone their picture and held it like a talisman day in and day out. Both were widowed that fatal night. I had the unfortunate displeasure of finding Brady’s broken body. You see, his landing wasn’t as easy as the rest of ours were. He found the one sturdy tree in the whole German countryside left still standing. It broke his fall and unfortunately his neck with it. He was tangled up in a twisted mess when I found him. It made me sick to my stomach staring into his dark, pleading eyes, knowing there was nothing I or anyone could do for him. I cut him down as quietly as possible and hid him well under some brush to cover our tracks. I closed his eyes, said a silent prayer for him and made a mental note to write Mrs. Brady when I got myself out of this mess. I’ll never erase his face from my memory as long as I live. He was so damned scared to jump, and he died just as scared. It was painless and quick for Brady, and that’s the only good thing about it, some were not that lucky. I still see his terrified face before I go to sleep at night and the first thing when I wake in the morning. I’ve often wondered over the years how Mrs. Brady held up through it all, but I guess like many other World War II widows, she went home to her mother and grieved her tragic loss. Brady was such a family man, always holding the picture of his wife and daughter before going to sleep. He’d look at them for what seemed like hours without moving. He loved them, God, and his country dearly. It was a real shame, a real shame.”
The fragile man shook his head sadly back and forth before he continued with a sigh, “Well, ole Brady wasn’t the only causality, there were many others throughout the time of the war. Some just like ‘em, some different. By the time we figured out the supplies had not landed any where nearby the Sergeant informed us we were just as lost as the supplies were. To make matters worse, we were four miles off course and four miles behind enemy lines in the heart of East Germany. Murphy’s law, I guess. If it can go wrong, it probably will. And everything about that night in particular went wrong. Along with venomous snakes and deadly insects we had to be on the lookout for armed and dangerous Nazi troops. Sometimes I think it was better that Brady met his fate before we found out our location. Death might have been better for him. I don’t think he would of made it through the long hike back to fight, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”
“We took immediate cover in a thicket of bushes nearby completely equipped with thorns and brambles. I don’t know what kind of bushes they were, I didn’t ask. It was pitch black and you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Shells and magazines ripped through the warm night air from all sides of us in the distance.”
“Oddly enough a man could hear various forms of wildlife with all the noise in the background voicing its pleas in the embezzlement of unwanted sounds in every direction. Some friendly. Some not so friendly. Crickets, insects of all kinds and things much larger I didn’t care to come into contact with stirred all about us. It could be downright deafening and would make your skin crawl if you had even the slightest idea what kind of animals peered out at you through the inky darkness watching and waiting. Sometimes, hell most of the time, we had had to sleep on bedrolls under the stars at night. One morning I awoke to an unwanted visitor in the bag with me. If someone hadn’t of told me to be careful when I got out of the bag in the morning I would of died long before this jump. I had to slowly and carefully peel back my bedroll to reveal poisonous snakes more than once the four years I was at war. Snakes take liberty at your feet in the bedroll because they seek warmth. It scared me to death. My heart felt like a sledgehammer beating on bare metal as I quickly flipped him 20 yards away with the barrel of my riffle. Before you put your boots on in the morning when we were in the desert you had to turn them upside down and shake out the scorpions or any other critters that stowed away in the night. Yep. That’s defiantly where my heart problems started I think.”
Becky, wide-eyed and astonished, swallowed hard. She couldn’t imagine waking up every morning shaking her bed and shoes out before moving. The ancient man grinned broadly portraying perfectly lined dentures and turned his head to the side so his only grand daughter would not see him giggling at her amazed look. “What kind of snake was it, grandpa?” Becky asked meekly. “Now,” the old man countered, “I don’t rightly know and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask the slithery fella either. All I know is I didn’t like him curling up beside me uninvited.”
Waving his hand in the air diligently signifying enough questions and getting back to the business at hand, the man tweaked Becky’s nose and continued his story while the little girl laughed happily. “There was some confusion to begin with,” he began again, “The sarge looked like a man possessed trying to pinpoint our exact location. It’s not easy giving the obvious fact that there were no road signs telling us exactly where we were, but ole sarge was really good at finding out our exact location by examining the lay of the land. As a matter of fact, I believe he was one of the few men of the world that rarely got lost. I doubt if any woman sat in the passenger seat of his car asking him if they were lost or just taking some absurd detour. Ole sarge would of found his way out of Fort Knox on a wing and a prayer. I never saw him lost and I suppose the man had never been lost a day in his life. Well, it took ole sarge about ten minutes to pinpoint our location. He knew exactly where we were and he knew exactly how to go from there. Sarge informed us that we had to walk (or hike as he put it) west 4 miles to meet the drop spot. Everyone moaned silently including me. He instructed us not to talk and not to light any cigarettes.” The little girl looked puzzled, “But why, grandpa?”
The man stared out at the stars reflecting in the night sky and glanced at the moonlight dripping across the river in streams before answering quietly. His face and demeanor duplicated a serious tone frightening Becky slightly. “The Germans.” He said solemnly. Becky gazed at him for a long moment in total disbelief. “If a man,” her grandfather said seriously, “Lit a cigarette or talked it would give away the position of the entire company. The Germans would see the flicker of the lighter or hear a voice and fire everything they had in our general direction killing everyone.” Becky pondered this information carefully and looked back into her grandfather’s warm, sensitive face. Sighing, the old man continued, “We grabbed our gear, what we had that is, and began walking to the west. We were in the midst of a heavy forest and it became increasingly difficult to move through the underbrush silently. As tough as it was, we somehow made it without a hitch. As we stepped into a clearing all hell broke loose. Gunfire rained through the trees sprinkling chaos everywhere it landed and hit the man next to me directly in the heart killing him instantly. His name was, Sanderson, I believe. He fell dead right at my feet and I hardly had time to think. I hit the ground pulling the other man next to me down as quickly as I possibly could. No one moved, breathed or spoke for what seemed like hours. The problem was we didn’t know for sure if the whole freaking German army waited on the other side of the clearing or if it was one lonely man strayed from his outfit cold and alone. Silence bated the heavy night air and finally we could hear the sniper running away from us through the underbrush on the other side. We knew he was alone, but we also knew there would be more close by. We waited, oh; it must have been at least ten minutes before regrouping. We had to get out of there, and fast, so we took a hasty turn south and moved swiftly through the thick forest again. We knew we were getting closer to the front line and we were a little more tense than usual. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up at attention prickling my skin and I broke out into a cold sweat even though it felt like it was 20 degrees. I’ll tell ya, you haven’t seen or smelled fear until you’ve been put into a situation like that. All the other men around me knew it too. It’s the kind of fear you go to bed at night thinking of and you sleep with one eye open and one eye closed. You wake up in the morning stiff and felling as though you didn’t sleep a wink the night before. Yep, no fear like that fear. Yep.”
The old man paused glancing thoughtfully over the blackened water. Waves gently lapped the shore and a mullet answered with a splash of its own somewhere near the pine pier. Becky’s bright blue eyes cut through the darkness and she urged, “Go on, grandpa!” The old man looked at his grand daughter lovingly and asked, “Oh! You want me to finish the story, do you?” Becky laughed in spite of herself heartily and retorted quickly, “Of course I do!” The man ruffled Becky’s head of blonde hair vigorously and said, “Well, if you say so. Well, when ole serge deemed we had gone far enough south we turned west again and headed toward our original destination. We were supposed to hit a small German armory at the front line. I guess I can tell ya that, makes no difference now. Sarge made us fall out to rest while he calculated our distance. We had already gone 5 miles including the 2-mile detour south through the woods. Sarge told us we were just about there. We had to quickly hit the place and get out before the Germans had time to retaliate. We were supposed to meet a chopper at 05:30 hours in a clearing about a mile away from the armory. It would safely bring us back to an English Air Force base just outside of London. We rested for 15-20 minutes. It seemed to fly by. Things always seem that way when they are good, but when it’s bad it seems to take forever. We had roughly a mile to go, so we gathered our gear and got started again. After a good 45 minutes of twisting and turning through the thicket we snuck up on the armory and the sarge did his usual quick calculations. He figured there were four guards on foot with dogs and two in the tower. There was 15-20 of us so we had it covered. I was in charge of throwing the grenades into the armory blowing it up. Four others quietly took out the guards and their trusting companions while five others ran in and threw the grenades into the small armory. We had one fella who was a damn good sniper shot stationed in a tree just in case. He took out the two in the tower with speed and the accuracy of a rattlesnake. Everything blew up and the entire squad hauled buggy for cover in the woods. There must have been one German soldier caught inside the tin building because I heard the most unbelievably pathetic cry of pain, I think I’ve ever heard in my life. When a man experiences pain like that he always tends to sound like a wild animal caught in a trap rather than a man. It was a high-pitched, piercing scream and very final. It sent chills down my spine. We met up with our helicopter on time and flew safely to much more friendly ground. I’ll never forget that jump as long as I live. Yep. Not in a million years.” The old man yawned and stretched. Standing he turned to face Becky and advised, “It’s past your bed time little lady.” Becky blinked and mumbled, “I love you, grandpa. Your stories are so neat.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and scampered off to bed. He watched her go as if it was the last time and whispered, “I love you too. I only wish you knew really how much.”
The tired old man retired for the evening to his own bed and never regained consciousness the next morning. But, as Becky went through her life, she always did know just how much he really did love her.
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