12/05/05

A man is guiding a woman through a workshop. It’s dark, but not so dark you can’t see there’s tools on the walls, tables, benches, and sawdust on the floor. Nothing out of the ordinary. Walking through some plastic sheeting, the lighting changes. It remains very dim, but is now reddish, like in a darkroom. You can see the woman getting a bit uncomfortable as (typical horror movie cheese) rusty hand saws and pliers are left out on the tables. An unknown promise to the observer (you and I) keeps her following this man. The man parts another plastic curtain for her to pass through first, to which she does. And now we see things through her eyes. I don’t even know how to explain it . . . there was a sort of animatronic, counter-weight balance puppetry machine . . . that makes no sense. You know those stress relievers that are five balls suspended, you pull one, and the reaction is ongoing? Or the little bird you tip into a glass, but the counter-weight pulls it out, and the momentum pushes it back in? Every action has a reaction. A lead marionette was fed by the motions of the other four. The other four were fed by the lead. All were bloated and bloodied body parts. Even a gutted baby’s head, doing nothing but spinning. I know I have done no justice in explaining the odd dancing dead, but maybe I can come back later. As for the woman in the workshop, I have no idea of her fate.

11/27/05

I met the Empress of China and she was two-feet tall. She had a cute pudgy face, with iny little eyes, and I couldn’t see her feet because her gown went all the way to the floor. And her guards kept her locked up in a little gold box so she wouldn’t get hurt.

11/26/05

A man is coated in an oily residue, his lower body completely lost from sight. The only reason I know he’s bare-chested is because his abdominal and chest muscles are very distinguishable underneath the tar-black substance. His left arm is outstretched, upward, as is his face – in a silent, agonizing scream – every feature on his face coated in darkness and his mouth is filled with spilling, black oil.

11/26/05

Overcast, gray, brooding. A slight breeze carries the stench of decay, playing with the tendrils of her hair. As she walks gently, barefoot among the decaying corpses, the bloated fingers of the fallen snag the ragged hem of her chemise. Is she dismayed by the death and carnage around her? Not at all. This is her domain; the putrid visage her Glory. As she sidesteps a gray, rotting foot, her chemise strap falls from her shoulder – and she smiles wickedly as she delicately slips her foot into a congealed pool of blood – sighing as if it were an old comfortable slipper. And darkness begins to settle further, so she sits down, giggles as she smooths the hair of an unfortunately decapitated soldier. And the feasting ravens laugh.

11/26/05

A beautiful fall day, walking along a mountainous trail. Leaves dance on the forest floor before my feet, and my eye catches a glistening beam of red. Bending closer, I found a beautiful tendril of red hair, dancing in the breeze among leaves of like color. Sweeping the leaves aside, pushing aside the soft earth – there lay an eternally sleeping beauty, brutally cut down in her prime, and unceremoniously buried along a forest path.

11/26/05

I sliced my wrists open, lengthwise, several inches long. Rather than blood, there are hundreds of pomegranate seeds spilling from my veins. And on the table next to me sits a ruptured pomegranate in a pool of congealing blood. Now to an onlooker, was I originally filled with these seeds of mythological fertility, or did I stuff them inside myself as blood poured freely down my hands?

11/15/05

There was a fire in a hut housing experimental chemical warfare. Everyone who was inside the structure was already afflicted. One man’s eyes were bubbling and drooping out of his sockets, dripping and sizzling onto his upraised fingers. One man was crawling on hands and knees, trying to get out of a liquid that burned away flesh and bone at the touch. A comrade wanted to help those stuck inside and began to run into the structure, unable to hear as his superior yelled at him to avoid the light. As soon as he made it to the entrance of the hut, gasses met his skin and he was already standing in sunlight. Immediately his skin darkened to a putrid black, began to monstrously swell, and as he lay in the entrance bloated and screaming, no one could do anything but watch in horror until he was a mass of blackened dead flesh. And the screams of those trapped inside continued to wail. The men outside the hut could do nothing but listen under the hot desert sun.

10/02/05

Your hard chest is pressing against my cheek as your hands sculpt around my hips. Trailing your face down to mine, I’m pulled from your chest. Licking the side of my throat, you suddenly bite, hard, into the muscles of my throat. Moaning into the crook of your elbow, my knees go weak, and I’m now supported by the hand on my hip, the hand entwined in my hair, and your thigh between my legs. You release the vise around my throat, and immediately bite on my clothed nipple, the thin fabric sticking to your moist lips. You pull my head back by my hair, draw my face close to yours, and flick your tongue across my lips, briefly, and taunting. Just as I do not feel I can take anymore, you bite the other side of my exposed neck, leaving me a whimpering, lusting, and hugry mess of a woman – craving what she can never have –

09/29/05

I’m standing in a wide open space. No walls. No people. Nothing. Just a gentle pelting sound permeates the air as dozens of doves fall dead at my feet. Turned upside down, they careen to the ground in a twirling, dead dance. Tilting my face upward, arms outstretched, I just stand. Naked.

9/20/05

I’m sitting in a dark alley and there’s a pothole filled to the brim with blood. It begins to overflow and rivulets of blood seep down the alleyway. It must have been raining earlier because everything was slick and reflective.

8/24/05

Granted a dying man immortality by burying a young orphan boy alive, but only after gouging out his eyes and packing his screaming mouth full of clay.

07/27/05

You came to me in the night. Tall, broad shoulders, beautiful. Firefighter’s uniform glistening in the growing blaze around us. “Come with me,” you say, reaching out your hand. And I know you aren’t here to save, but to destroy me. “Angel, may I tell him one last time?” You smile, and hand me a black phone receiver. “Hello?” he answers. “It’s me. It’s time, and I’m leaving.” “How did he come to you,” he asks. “Firefighter. I must go. I love you, now and always.” You hang up the phone, as the blaze consumes me – yet I feel no pain. And you escort me from my Death, to new Life.

07/26/05

A young woman bends to peer into a crib, and suddenly the crib turns into an aquarium. She is too far bent over and her feet dangle in the air. She cannot pull herself or her head out of the water. Suddenly an onslaught of bubbles from the unseen depths rush to caress her panicked face. Brunette hair swirls in the water, dancing with the turbulent water. And following the bubbles are hundreds of cockroaches, desperate to cling to her skin’s surface. And she can do absolutely nothing to stop their progress. Tangled tendrils of hair and kicking insect legs – bubbles of air and screaming terror. And there she drowns. Mouth agape, leaving a cavernous entrance for the roaches to claim . . .

06/29/05

I was digging a hole with my bare hands – through foundation, soil, and mud. And a dark presence seeped into the hole, like oil, but it was evil (for lack of a better word). And I couldn’t get it off of my hands, and it was splashing on the walls, and was going to seep into my house. Frantic, I woke up.

06/27/05

I don’t know who you are, but you wake me from my slumber. Above me, you smile – a gentle, knowing smile. You never speak or gesture; just hover there, your hair blowing in an ethereal breeze. I bet you were a beautiful woman, because you are a lovely spectre.

06/27/05

Where on – no, I mean IN – a living body can information be stored? Consider bytes and chips of information obsolete. That risks setting off metal detectors. But good, old-fashioned paper documentation. A human courier pigeon. Non-detectable by x-ray or metal detectors, and even a cavity search. Perhaps the perfect candidate is someone missing an organ (spleen, kidney, or gall bladder). They already have an empty space. You can attempt to create a small cavity in an arm, thigh, buttocks, or abdomen, but the major risk is cutting through nerve masses. Wouldn’t want to render the courier helpless, now would we? So, we should be agreed that candidates either already have certain organs removed, or we do it for them. Gentleman of the Board, our medical and scientific staff are in the process of engineering the biological canister that will house the documentation. There appears to be a minor setback of the host body rejected the capsule as an invasive foreign body; however, we may be able to harness the advances in stem cell research and cloning to create the capsule using the host’s own tissue; therefore eliminating the foreign body dilemma. With your continued support, within the course of a year, we could change the face of espionage, sway wars, and secure alliances – to the highest bidder, of course. Thank you for your time, gentleman, and we look forward to the Board’s approval.

06/26/05

I will reclaim my throne of bone, and blood rivers shall echo throughout my chamber.

06/15/05

Erotic thoughts dance in my head, invading my concentration and playing nasty little games with my libido. Throughout the day, I’m taunted and teased by my own desires, until finally he is home. A kiss – hot, passionate, desperate. Mad wrenching of clothes, and then flesh against flesh. Salt and sweat mingle into a pool of bliss. A coupling wrought from hot desire and longing. A sweet end to a day of self-torment and bridled needs.

04/15/05

The golden chain around her neck met at an apex nestled in the soft cleft of her bosom. Suspended from a single golden filigree ring was a ruby the size of a jay’s egg, delicately carved into the likeness of a sensual and bursting pomegranate. And in the golden rays of the setting sun, the ivory skin of her heaving breasts was bathed in an eerie blood-reed hue.

04/07/05

His hands are calloused as they caress my jawline, lingering on the soft, exposed skin of my neck. “You have hardly any pigment to your skin,” he purrs, “and your pulse is strong.” I look at his perfect smile, noting his fangs have not lengthened. I wonder if they will. . . I wonder if he knows I want them to. He brings his mouth to my throat, biting – a lover’s bite, nothing more. He is such a tease – always has been. As his hands and mouth explore my body, I wonder if he will ever act on his instincts.

01/19/05

Golden silk cascades down her shoulders, slightly curled ends caressing and molding to the gentle curve of her breasts.