Archive for November, 2009

Creeper Photo: Fisherwoman

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

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You seemed really alone, maybe I should have sat down with you. Maybe you were just on a break. Maybe you are just unhappy with the direction your life has taken. You wouldn’t look at me, what where you looking at? You looked so far away.

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Harlequin’s Dance: A Story WIP

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

“I love you today, I love you tomorrow and forever my little Pandora.” She whispered shutting the door behind her with a soft but audible click as it sealed off all the light except for my little dancing light next to my bed on a bedpost. My eyes where slowly closing as I watched the little princess emit different colors casting shadows on my walls. I sighed sleepily shutting out the world as I slipped into sweet dreams of my four year old life. A click woke me up. I curled up not wishing to be disturbed but my eyes watched as the door opened slowly. I looked away and tried to go back to sleep. Footsteps approaching across my carpet floors towards my bed.

“Ma?” I say drowsily and try to sit up as I look at the woman across from my bed. “Da?” I say curiously.

“Hello honey, my you are a perfect little creature aren’t you?” an unfamiliar voice said softly and lovingly.

I turn around to look at the open door, “Ma?” I say questioningly. The woman approaches my bed and I shrink away in fright. She stretches out her arms for me and I scream as her cold fingers brush my pudgy arms. “MA! MA!” I scream pulling away from the stranger who tries to shush me. Her cold fingers turn into talons and grab my arms roughly. Her nails dig into my soft flesh as I whimper and start to cry. I can’t scream any more as she ensnares me pulling me to her.

“You’re safe now my darling,” she scoops me up in her freezing arms, they are wet from the outside snow. I whimper softly unable to scream. “ You’re mine now.” She whispers clutching my little body to her.

“Pandora?” a confused voice from the hall calls, a light flicks on in the hallway. I whimper again trying to yell. The woman looks up towards the hall and walks briskly towards the open door, me still in her arms bundled up in my blankie. She picks something out of her back pocket and shows it to me. It is shiny and black. I shrink away from it. She moves into the hallway, I see my mom and dad there. Their faces turn into horrified masks as they see me with the woman. She points the black object at them and they freeze. She starts to back towards the stairs still holding it towards them, they don’t move.

“Please don’t take my baby,” My mom pleads “ we will give you anything you want, just don’t harm her.” She begs holding her arms toward us as if to take me back.

The woman laughs and says, “She is all I want.” She points the thing at my mom. My dad lunges for us but the woman back pedals and points the thing at me. I turn to look at it, it has a little whole in the end; I look at it and hear a click come from it. My mom is sobbing now and my dad stares in horror. I reach for the gun with both hands and place them on the little hole. My dad grabs something while she isn’t looking ad tries to hit her with it but the click comes again and I try to push it away. Then it got really hot, there was a loud bang. Everything else was blurry and numb as the woman ran down the stairs with me in hand and out the door into the snow.

“Pandora!” I hear my mother scream after me as I am carried away into a world of darkness. So cold, and so numb inside and out.

Darkness is the only thing I remember, soon it was all I remembered at all. Mom was a thing of the past, so was warmth and love. It wasn’t part of my new life; it wasn’t part of me at all just a shadow of a very different time. Darkness became my whole life, not necessarily in a bad way. It was just the spectrum I viewed things through now instead of light like everyone else. I am special. I am special, that was what they always told me. I never understood, I still don’t; I’m not special we are all capable of what I do we just have to open our eyes.

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Lending a Hand

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

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This is an odd picture in New York. Maybe they sell fake arms…. well it seems a little creepy to me. Thanks mom for the photo.

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Posted in Photos |

Creeper Photo: Left Behind

Monday, November 16th, 2009

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You seemed upset, maybe you missed your ride home, maybe your boyfriend stood you up. You were just standing there next to the road at a bus stop. There were lots of people but you stood alone. Maybe your anger isolates you. Or maybe you just wanted to be alone. I wish I had asked. I like your scarf by the way.

Maybe I will write a poem about you, if so I will post it later so you won’t be alone.

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Bonfire

Monday, November 16th, 2009

The boy sits
Alone on the beach
With glowering eyes
And a heart
Full of hate and anger
He listens to the ocean
Roaring day and night
Arms wrapped tight around
His scraped and bleeding knees
Tattoos run up his arms
Like black veins
A fire burns before him
As he stares deep into it
Watching the fickle flame
Dancing too and fro
How unfair it is
For it to be free
When he stands in chains
He waves his hand
Slowly through the flames
But he doesn’t feel the pain
He doesn’t feel anything anymore
So he takes what is left
Of his meager belongings
And throws them into the fire
It crackles and waves
Sparking to life
As it consumes another’s
The boy watches
His life go up in flames
Burning slowly to ashes
As it withers and curls
He stands
And walks away
He is done
He is finally done

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Posted in Poetry |

Tips

Monday, November 16th, 2009

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Posted in Photos |

Creeper Photo: Tiger

Sunday, November 15th, 2009

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Hello Tiger. I enjoy your tail. And your ears.

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Recycle

Sunday, November 15th, 2009

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You know you are in Seattle when one room in a building has four different cans for recycling. I mean seriously, that is a little absurd. I am all for recycling but four? Really, four?

This is in University of Washington for those wondering where this phenomena occurred.

I guess this post is for my dad, the recycling man of our house. I guess we don’t have it so bad, because he could have four different cans for us to recycle with. Don’t get any ideas….

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Portrait of a Person (Interview)

Sunday, November 15th, 2009

I know people
How so?
I can understand people
Better than most
Because I can see
Through their eyes
Feels as their hearts feel
How do you do that?
I don’t know
I just do
Well, who are you?
I don’t know truthfully
I am nothing I guess
Because I am everything
Or everyone I should say
I don’t mean I am
All powerful or all knowing
You mean like god?
Sure
I am my writing
I am my characters
Every face I paint
With my words
is me
Their face is mine
I don’ have my own anymore
I am a mosaic
Of everything I have seen
Will see
And have made
How did this happen?
I don’t know
I have always been this way
Is it hard?
Yes
It is never easy
Not having an identity
of your own
it is hard not knowing
who you really are
I can’t remember
The last time
I have seen my own face
So you are saying
You have no face?

I laugh
I guess so
I am the portrait of a person
Without a face

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Posted in Poetry |

Creeper Photo: A Skeleton’s Death Wish

Saturday, November 14th, 2009

IMG_7900 Oh the irony of a skeleton smoking.

This was in Pikes Place Market in Seattle during Halloween. Surprisingly the costumes where not as outrageous as I thought they would be. I was prepared to see some crazy things but it wasn’t absurd. Actually it was pretty normal.

Well this guy just cracked me up. Standing on a corner smoking in a skeleton outfit. There is just something funny about that.

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