Other Stories: Supremacy

The following preview is another story that I started in September 2016. Like most of my stories, the idea hit me and I started writing. I don’t remember what I was watching, reading or listening to at that time.

The picture I found for this comes from https://www.creativefan.com/60-breathtaking-post-apocalypse-artworks/ even though it’s labeled http://www.penemenn.com – I couldn’t find that website anywhere.

Enjoy!


I was there when the world ended. Actually, that’s not an entirely accurate statement. I was there when the world we knew ended. Everything that we as a people finally held so dear to us was taken, without warning and without mercy. But it wasn’t like we hadn’t been warned. We just hadn’t bothered to listen. Most didn’t want to; those that finally dared to had done so too late. We let ourselves believe that it was only paranoia, a Creepy Pasta per se. Surely nothing like what those who knew predicted would come to pass. But it did; it finally did.

There was no zombie apocalypse, no plague, no alien takeover. Everything just ended and we were left with nothing.

What did we expect though? We gave up everything for safety, for the belief that we were doing the right thing. That there were things out there more important than our own individuality. Little by little they chipped away at our psyche – changed the way we thought, the way we ate, the way we felt.

I always believed that people had a choice, were free to choose. They even took that away from us in the end, by making us believe we still could.

Other Stories: Sanity

I’m back with another chapter. I’m sorry this one took so long to post – inspiration came to me while I wasn’t anywhere near a recorder or my laptop. Of course, right?

It’s not my best work, I’m sorry. I was able to feel a little something that I felt when I started writing this, but if you don’t feel it, let me know and I’ll see how I can get back on track.

Today’s picture is called Gakko Gurashi Manga. I found it in the Mid-Season Review: School Live! section of http://operationrainfall.com/2015/08/17/mid-season-review-school-live/. Once you read this section you might get it.


“What’s this?” I’m only half looking at what it is – a box that he’s handing over to me. I have one hand on my shopping cart and the other slowly taking this thing he’s handing over.

“It’s a game.” His response as he lets it go then starts paying attention to the baby carrier sitting in the shopping cart.

“Yeah, well, I don’t play games. Unlike you, I’m a bit too busy.” I try to hand it back.

He shrugs and keeps messing with the baby carrier, but isn’t taking it back. “I make time.”

“Yeah but you don’t have a kid or a job or bills or things like that.”

“I have a job!” He looks back at me but still doesn’t take the box.

“Right. What? Playing video games? Please! Here, I don’t want it! I have to finish shopping and get … back to the sitter …”

The memory fades. I remember it but I don’t. He never took the box back.

“Then what happened?”

I blink but I don’t see anything or anyone. Not sure who asked that but I feel obligated to answer.

“Hey, my kid’s crying, I have to go feed her.” I try to put down the controller while I’m looking at the screen, watching the others going after whatever it was we were trying to kill.

“Now? You picked a fine time to quit!”

Not sure who that was. “I’m not quitting I have to go feed my baby.”

“You leave now and we’re booting you! We had it all planned out.” Same person

“Yeah! Why didn’t you say before that you had stuff to do?” Well, that’s just great. And here I thought he was my friend.

“She just woke up, I have to go feed her!” I’m still sitting on my couch, still holding the controller. Why haven’t I gotten up yet?

“Damn it! Now we’re gonna have to wait?” I’m thinking he’s not much of a friend now.

“Go fucking find someone else! Boot her ass!”

“No, no! Wait! I’ll stay but we have to do this fast ok?”

I’m thinking that’s what started it all.

“Did you wind up finishing fast?”

“Yeah, I think that time we did. She was still crying, loud. She was so mad, didn’t even stop crying until she fell asleep eating.”

“But that wasn’t the last time something like that happened, was it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How long have you been playing it?”

“I don’t remember. We pulled an all-nighter. We had this major boss we had to take down and needed everyone sharp.”

“So you didn’t hear her crying?”

“Yeah I did, but they needed me.”

“So you let her cry? She needed to be fed, to be changed.”

“I can change her after we beat the boss. And she cried herself to sleep before. I just wake her up and feed her.”

“How many days have you done this?

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do. How many days?”

I’m trying to think, but it’s hard and I’m tired. Things are hazy. I remember her crying. I remember calling out to tell her I’d be right there. I remember …

“Do you remember your brother coming in and seeing …”

“He had no right to be there! I’m capable of taking care of everything!”

“Val, your baby died. You hadn’t fed her in two days. Even though your brother…”

“No! I had it all under control! They’ll tell you. We were kicking ass!” I think I’m crying now. I can see a face before me, screaming at me. Ryan’s screaming at me. And Jackie’s taking …

“They’re taking her! Where are they taking her! They have her! Give her back!”

“Val…”

“You God-damned, mother fucking, son of a bitch! You took her away from me! You took her! Where is she?” He’s holding me back while Jackie leaves; but it’s not them that’s holding me now. The Bitch is watching me, she’s watching this. “You think this is fucking funny? Sitting there like a bitch!”

All she does is write down everything. Glances at me and writes stuff down then types it on that computer of hers.

“I think we’re getting somewhere now.”

I’m so pissed I can’t even think straight, I can’t speak. I tried to stand up but that’s not good either. I do the only thing I can do: I cry.

“Dr. Summers?”

“Yes, Sean, you can take her back to her room now. If she needs it, give her something to relax her. We’ll see how she is in the morning, whether she can be returned to her regular breakfast schedule or if she needs more time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to get away, I want to go somewhere that doesn’t have Bitches, or memories. I want my life back. I want my daughter back – I know she’s not dead. They just won’t let me have her.

Short Stories: Savior – Main

I went through and did a bit of maintenance on this series. No, I didn’t redo the story, I just did some cosmetic work.

I added some links in case anyone happens to want to read the entire story straight out. I noticed that although WordPress does have links for the next story, it does it according to what you write and I was busy writing out about three stories. That makes for a bit of confusion.

I’m also going to put a ‘chapter’ list here, just in case anyone loses their place or wants to start at a certain area.

Today’s picture is called “Angel and Demon” by ryky and can be found at http://ryky.deviantart.com/art/angel-and-demon-279936351.

I will be writing chronicles for Zhovaer, Karen and even Konnor. Still not sure about how I’m publishing them though.

I hope you enjoyed this series. I’m going to continue on with Sanity and my Dragon Age stories as well as working on about three other story lines.

I’m also putting up links to writers that I’m following – I think you’ll find them interesting, informative and entertaining. This is by no means everyone I follow and I’ll be putting up more with other stuff I post.

Thanks for reading!

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Savior

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

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Other Authors

Christopher Breidenger

Sasha the Sprite

Keith Garrett Poetry

Confessions of a Readaholic

Author Luther M Siler

Author Belinda Crane

Ryan Lanz – A Writer’s Path

Sir Isaac’s Universe

Other Stories: Sanity

It may be a little bit before I come up with the next chapter in this story. I’ve been reading a lot of blogs and articles and feel that I of course don’t know half the things I thought I did about this. So what started out as just basically fiction feels like it’s going to turn into something – more interesting. I hope.

All I ask is that you please bear with me while I find my muse for this story again.

As you know, I don’t like posting pics with actual people in it unless they’re pretty much famous or their drawings or anime or clip art. Today’s picture I thought was fairly appropriate and ironically not something I would have ever conceived. It’s from deadshirt.net and appears to be a section from the comic Ultimate Spider Man. For those who don’t know (like me) that is actually Gwen Stacy slapping Spider Man – although in this version his name is Miles Morales and not Peter Parker. Whoda thunk? According to the site (http://deadshirt.net/2013/06/21/ultimate-spider-man-the-slap-that-broke-the-spiders-back/), this is “From Ultimate Spider-Man v.2 #24, pencils by David Marquez”


He was sitting at one of the smaller tables, pushing around the food currently on his plate, but not eating when she walked in to join the lunch crowd. Her first reaction was of surprise. Three weeks after they discovered him, they were finally able to coax him out of his room.

“You God-damned, mother fucking, son of a bitch!”

He turned, not because he was curious about the scream, which started out like a low growl and ended in a semi-high-pitched yell, but because it sounded somewhat familiar.

He felt her open palm hit his cheek before he saw her.

She looked as bad as he felt.

Her blue eyes were fevered and red rimmed, like she had been crying. He gingerly touched his cheek as two of the orderlies, Jimmy and … Vince? He couldn’t remember the name, but they both came running at them. Behind them he saw one of the nurses on the phone and another, Valerie maybe, coming around the corner.

Everyone else, all the other patients, and there weren’t many, had moved away from them.

He felt someone grab his arms at the same time that Jimmy took hold of Val and pulled her away. She had been ready to hit him again and he would have let her. “No, no don’t hurt her.” He heard his voice croak and crack.

She sounded almost incoherent as she continued screaming at him. “You! You fucking …. You took her away from me! You took her! Where is she?”

He reached out his hand to her, only to have someone grab it and push it down. “Please, don’t hurt her, she’s…”

“Marcus move back!” He heard Dr. Thomas’ voice and saw him and another nurse come running. She was carrying a syringe, which meant one thing.

Marcus now struggled a bit against the arms that were holding him. “No! Don’t! She’s fine, she’s just upset!”

But she wasn’t and he knew it. She continued screaming, crying and clawing, trying to get back at him for … what? Taking her away? Who?

No, not who. What.

That thing he saw her with that night.

Krystal.

She continued crying when Dr. Thomas injected the sedative into her, but it still took both orderlies to restrain her.

“Marcus, c’mon, man! Back up, let it go, let’s go.” He heard Clyde next to him. Marcus trusted Clyde, he was one of the few he could talk to and the only one voluntarily who went for walks with him. Clyde knew all about his feelings for the now raving creature before him.

But she wasn’t raving anymore. She was on her knees, still crying but no longer screaming.

Jimmy and Vince were putting a restraint on her while Dr. Thomas and Dr. Summers, the one who Val affectionately called “The Bitch” supervised. Dr. Monisht and a couple of other nurses were working on getting the other patients out of there and back to whatever semblance of normal they had been in.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Marcus man.” Clyde said softly.

Marcus shook his head. “No, no not yet. I don’t want to hear the scratching.”

That set Val off again, but not as intense. Instead she wailed. “You have her! She doesn’t want me anymore, you took her from me! Give her back! Please, I … I need her! Please!”

She was wiggling around, her eyes stuck on Marcus as he was trying his hardest to not look at her. Clyde led him away, but Marcus still heard her voice.

They were outside the common room and heading back to Marcus’ room when he finally spoke.

“I don’t want her.” He said.

“Tell me ‘bout it, man. She a complete one-eighty right now.” Clyde responded, thinking Marcus was talking about Val.

“No, no not Val. Val’s … no I don’t want Krystal … I don’t … don’t take me back to the room Clyde, please.”

“Oh man, don’ be starting this shit again. You is one step away from them puttin’ you upstairs!”

“Krystal’s there.”

“Shit, this is Jan all over again.”

Marcus stopped, which caused Clyde to yank his arm, but he stopped too. “Jan? Jan saw Krystal too?”

“Look man, this ain’t the time and … man! Listen! You don’ need this shit. Ok? You just startin’ to come out of it, don’ go pulling this here Jan shit and git sent back. Remember, your sister’s weddin’s in three weeks.”

Marcus heard and nodded but he didn’t care. “Take me to the couch?”

“Val’s going to the couch right now.”

“Just, please, I can’t go back to my room.”

“Marcus, man don’ make me drug yo ass too.”

Short Stories: Savior

Yes, dear readers. It is sad that this short story now ends. But as the song says, it may not be the last you will read of these characters. I have notes for chronicles – just not sure if I will post them here or actually be brave enough to publish them.

I thought today’s picture was appropriate considering how I pictured my characters. This is called “My Guardian Angel” by Camino-Studios and can be found on deviantart at http://camino-studios.deviantart.com/art/My-guardian-Angel-250338737

I also thought I’d give you a final listing of the people who inspired this story:

God (Evanescence) – partial inspiration Alanis Morrissette
Metatron (Breaking Benjamin)
Archangels Michael (Kevin Durand), Gabriel (Tilda Swinton), Raphael (Paul Bettany), Cassiel (Shinedown) and Uriel (10 Years)

Jesus (Hozier)
Zhovaer (Five Finger Death Punch)
Konnor (Avenged Sevenfold)
Karen (Rachel Platten) – later inspiration

Lucifer (Panic! At The Disco) – later inspiration
Various angels and imps (DJ Earworm)

This isn’t to say that this is how I think of these people or bands. The story came to me as I was listening to their music.

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Gabriel put his arms around Konnor when everything was said and done. He had been on his knees but stood with the Arch Angel’s help and was now crying as he looked down at the area where his twin once lay.

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

The range of emotions that flew across his face and surrounded him were so intense that he wasn’t able to answer his creator right away, but Gabriel patiently waited until the misled Guardian calmed. Taking a shaky breath, he finally answered. “I failed! I … I thought I knew what she asked of me when Lucifer took her, but I couldn’t help.”

“And who exactly did you fail?”

“Zhovaer, Karen, you! I failed God. I tried to keep The Beloved from going, but he left. I couldn’t stop him.”

The Arch Angel squeezed Konnor’s shoulders. “Oh, my lovely. You didn’t fail. It wasn’t your job to keep him from going.”

Konnor blinked and looked over at him, confused but perhaps hopeful.

“You were originally made to keep Terrans from forgetting who they are, why they were created and mostly importantly, to guard them from the traps Lucifer created when he fell. You were meant to be a beacon for when the time came.”

“But … Karen ….”

“She was created to be the beacon for those who saved the souls the Guardians weren’t able to rescue. I honestly think you two were my greatest creations.”

“She’s gone.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

Gabriel let his arms fall from Konnor’s shoulders as the once-Lowly spun around to face the sound of the voice. They both gazed upon Michael as he strode up next to them and amazingly smiled. “Your kind never had much.” The Arch Angel said mainly to Konnor but he addressed both.

“He has more than most, and more than Terrans.” Gabriel retaliated before turning back to Konnor. “I am sorry that you both got too close to Terrans that you became more like them and less like us. But I never question God’s plans for us – she’s always known better than any the ‘whats’ and ‘whys’ of it.”

Michael nodded. “She isn’t lost, not by any means. I got here as fast as I could to let you know what will happen.” He then put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “And I think maybe I should be the one to do this my friend.”

Gabriel smirked, but then bowed and moved away from them.

“Karen made a great sacrifice – she gave up her ‘life’ for you, Zhovaer but especially for Metatron and she did it without thought of any but to help the three of you. Therefore she is saved but she needs to be cleansed. The only way this can be done is …”

“…for her to be born a Terran. So … she’s gone from me. I won’t … ever see her again.”

“Yes and no. You are to be a Guardian again.”

“I … me? A Guardian again?” Konnor felt a wave of happiness engulf him.”

“More specifically, you are to be her Guardian.

You’ll be there to see her born.

You’ll be there to comfort her when she has a bad dream and her parents don’t hear her crying.

For the joys and sorrows that come during the awkward Terran ‘teen-age’ years – you’ll be the one hope she will hear or feel when she thinks she’s alone.

When she’s in the university library looking for books and she thanks you for keeping that rather large one from falling on her head.”

“I will protect her.”

“Meanwhile, we’ll be up here, trying to fix things. We’ll call you back up once things are relatively settled.”

“How long will that be?”

“It may be for the rest of her life.”

===============================================================================

Previous Chapter                        ©2015 Dazrahe / Deborah McCarthy

Short Stories: Savior

I hope this posting of this story is enjoyable. One thing I’ve found while going through this and my other stories is that they seem to change, perhaps evolve, as the weeks go by. What I started out with is not how I’m ending this.

This is also not my last posting on this story. I have one more, which I hope turns out well.

Photo for today is from http://raaamen.deviantart.com/art/Angel-vs-Demon-323246284. It actually isn’t what I pictured for today, but it was what I had in mind when I first started this small chapter.

You’ll notice, as predictable, that I don’t go into much detail regarding the fighting. I know I’ve defined it differently, but for those who might be able to feel it, I encourage you to listen to the following songs either before, during, or after you’ve read this. See what you think.

Evil Angel (Breaking Benjamin)
Do What You Want (DJ Earworm) – Especially this one
Breathe Into Me (Red)
Until The End (Breaking Benjamin)
Fix Me (10 years)
Call Me (Shinedown)
Whisper (Evanescence)

I got the idea for this story from these songs along with a couple of others.

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“Wow! That … that was … quite the story, Cassiel.”

Konnor froze completely as the others turned to face the source of the voice. There, on a small boulder, sat Lucifer, clapping slowly and sarcastically, shaking his head and chuckling. He seemed to bounce up off the boulder and walked slowly over towards Metatron, still clapping while he watched the others.

“Ha, ha! I … I especially liked the part about the rumor … you know, the ‘here say’ about why God turned her back on me.” Although he stopped clapping, and emphasized the word with his fingers, he kept smiling as he stopped next to The Beloved. His eyes, however, looked dark and sinister.

In the time it took the fallen angel to move to his destination, Michael, Raphael and Cassiel repositioned themselves with Cassiel standing in front of Konnor and Karen. Michael and Raphael stood near shoulder-to-shoulder to the left of the small group.

Metatron looked over at Lucifer. “I thought you left with your prize.”

“Well, that’s the funny part. I seem to have…”

“…lost something?” Raphael finished, though his was more a question than a response to The Beloved. Lucifer turned his eyes towards the Arch Angel and smiled.

“Something you would know about?”

“No, but there is something that you should … hear.”

The Beloved looked around and then moved back to back with Lucifer as he tried not to gaze into the faces of those now surrounding him and the fallen one.

They all seemed to make a circle around the smaller group: Angels and High Angels, Guardians and Saviors, Half-Breed and Forgotten. Then as quickly as this group appeared, others arrived just as quickly: Imps, Demons and Lowly. Lucifer’s Generals were also there, but a little further away from the group. The rest of The Four rode up and stood quietly next to Samael away from everyone. Their attention, however, seemed to be on something else.

If you’ve never had the chance to see this race argue amongst themselves it is actually quiet breath-taking. Their idea of war is not what our idea of war is. In fact, a tiff, scuffle or fight for them is more beautiful to behold than anything Terrans have ever come up with. It’s not known how or why Terrans’ actions fell so far away from those of what they call the ‘Heavenly Host’ and ‘Hellions’ – perhaps it has something to do with the way Lucifer plans to take over.

But as beautiful as it is, it is also heart-wrenching.

This race is emotion-based. When God is at peace and her love flows over all, Terrans can feel it and they prosper. But during the times when God is distraught, when Lucifer has pushed her far enough that she has to intervene or when her ‘side’ of the race has to come forward – this is when there is turmoil amongst the mortals.

This is when the belief of Armageddon is strongest within the hearts of Man.

The music of the cacophony rose to a crescendo between the two factions of the race as each tried to convince Metatron to stay with Lucifer or go back to God.

“It looks like they’re serious this time Metatron.” Lucifer didn’t actually say that name, but The Beloved’s actual name. Those who couldn’t speak those words, the Lowly and Forgotten merely heard Metatron in their minds.

Michael and Raphael approached, side by side, their eyes staring straight only at Metatron. Meanwhile, Zhovaer walked over to Konnor and put a hand on his shoulder. When he turned to the Savior, Zhovaer put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to pay attention to what would happen.

Lucifer waved a hand and those who stood with him became still, hushed. He knew what was coming, he knew who was walking behind the two highest only under The Beloved.

When they stopped, and took a step aside, he blinked. It was a little surprising to see Uriel standing before God.

Konnor instantly lowered his gaze and fell to a knee; next to him Zhovaer crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head and upper body.

Arch Angels lowered their eyes.

High angels bowed their heads.

Angels knelt either on one or two bended knees depending on their status.

Only The Beloved could stand in the presence of God and look God full in the face.

Behind Lucifer, who stood with lowered eyes, those who followed him positioned themselves in their respective stances according to their opposites’ stances: his Generals stood with bowed heads. Demons and Imps on bended knee with either bowed heads, or kneeling on one or two knees. Some even went so far as to supplicate themselves even lower.

Despite their differing views, all bowed before God.

Uriel began to speak. It was strange. He was an Arch Angel but had now become a messenger chosen to speak for God this time.

His voice rang out, clear, beautiful, as he related to The Beloved God’s feelings, God’s words, and meaning.

All were silent.

The Beloved just stood and stared.

Not even Lucifer could move.

The words were heart-wrenching and spoke of a love that no Terran had ever heard or felt before. They rang with truth and there weren’t any eyes that didn’t become affected by the strength of the emotions.

When he finished, Metatron sang his response. Again, the words, the feelings were intense. Heart-breaking wouldn’t come close to what could be felt.

Uriel started a reply, but now Cassiel joined him, as did The Son. All around them rose a soft chorus of feelings from everyone. Well everyone save Lucifer.

When their song ended, Lucifer turned to Metatron and spoke quietly to him. It would have continued except that now God moved forward and put her hands on Uriel’s shoulders. She leaned forward and appeared to whisper to the messenger. Whatever words came from her, he shot them forward towards their target.

Metatron wailed out in pity and misery, his heart torn. He had one hand over his chest, the other outstretched as though begging for explanation or for it all to end. His eyes were on only God, and hers on his. Their battle was coming to a head.

God reached out a hand towards The Beloved as her angels continued to be her voice. Her eyes were as bright as his were pained. And just as their fingers touched…

An intense bright light exploded.

When it faded, only Konnor and Gabriel remained.

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Previous Chapter           ©2015 Dazrahe / Deborah McCarthy                       Next Chapter

Other Stories: Sanity

So last week I failed to post on this story and I apologize for that. What I had I felt didn’t live up to what I had previously posted. I still don’t. But, something needs to be posted because this story is far from over.

Most of it I did today since I didn’t have a lot of time during the week.

The picture for today I thought would do well to be humorous, especially since I previously said I wouldn’t post anything that had real people in it. It’s from one of the articles from http://www.nhscouting.org


“I don’t see what his problem has to do with me. It’s not my fault he decided to spazz out.”

“What another patient talks about normally wouldn’t be anyone else’s business, but Marcus … well he repeatedly states that you were injured.”

“Listen isn’t there something else we can possibly talk about?”

I don’t know why she’s telling me that, it’s not going to change my opinion of things. We’ve been doing nothing but talk about that idiot Marcus this entire session and frankly I’m fucking tired of it now. It wasn’t so bad for the first 5 minutes … maybe even less than that. I mean he’s cute and all for being a fucktard, but these sessions aren’t supposed to be about anyone but … well … me … and maybe Krystal.

Wait. Maybe they’re trying to get to me, win my trust, or piss me off so I’ll start talking more about things that aren’t any of their business. Those bastards!

The Bitch is speaking now, but I’m only half paying attention. So he mentioned me. Huh, he mentioned me. Gah! Did he happen to mention that he wasn’t nice to me while trying to make like he was Casanova or something? Ha! Probably not. I signed a paper on it, they have to have it.

I guess I should at least be grateful that he’s not in here with us. I’m not sure how that would make me feel, but I’m going to guess not very good. I really don’t want to see him. I think I hate him.

I know I’ve always hated this room. No windows except for the front door, so no way to look out to escape from this interrogation. Unless I look out the front door, but that would put me right next to said Bitch and I really don’t feel like being that close to her.

“I think we’re done.” I think I’ve said that like twenty times. But it worked this time. There’s Jimmy, ready to take me to my room, or somewhere.

“How are you feeling today, Marcus?” Dr. Monisht asked as he walked through the front door of Marcus’ room. “Do you think today will be a good day to have a session outside?”

Silence.

Dr. Monisht looked over and saw Marcus rocking back and forth and staring straight ahead to the wall opposite his bed. Bami stayed by the front door for only a minute, then walked over to a chair that sat by the bathroom door.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

Still nothing.

Since the day the nurse, Valerie if he remembered correctly, found him, he had been in a near-fetal position: legs bent, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and holding them tight against him. The only difference between that day and today is position – he was no longer on the floor. They had somehow managed to convince him to move thus allowing them to clean him up. But he quickly got on the bed and resumed the same position. Nothing they had done would move him off.

They also had to cover the window – draw the shades and pull closed the curtains. He didn’t want to look out.

“I have some correspondence for you – from your family I believe.” He half stood off the chair and gently tossed the letters on the corner of the bed – right over others that he had been bringing to him for the past week.

So far, only Dr. Monisht, Clyde, Marcus’ probation officer and his friend Ray-Ray were the only people who could enter his room without setting him off on a tirade of science fiction rants.

Dr. Monisht wrote a few things on Marcus’ file attached to his clipboard. This wasn’t good. If they weren’t able to bring him back from wherever he currently was, he would have to be moved to the other section of the facility.

Bami sighed and wrote a few more things on the file. “You’ve been scheduled for physical therapy this afternoon, Marcus. I hope you’re well enough to join.”

Marcus stopped rocking for only a moment, but it was enough to give his doctor some hope that maybe he was reaching him. But when the athlete started up again, Dr. Monisht closed his eyes and shook his head.

He stood up and headed to the front door. “I will return again tomorrow, Marcus.”

“She’s ok, right Doc? She … she’s alive?”

Bami turned around quickly and looked at Marcus. His eyes were still clouded over and staring blankly at the wall but he had stopped rocking again. “Yes, Marcus. She’s perfectly fine.”

“This is unacceptable!” Dr. Thomas stated loudly as he slammed his hand on the table. “We need to find out what’s going on and no! The idea of our facility being haunted or cursed is not an option!”

The weekly staff meeting started this morning on a bad note and gradually disintegrated as time passed.

“Enriqueta Valencia, aka Val, and Marcus Williams – our celebrity. One of them showing symptoms of regression that had nothing to do with what he was admitted for! And the panic that occurred because the other was thought to have bled to death! Would someone care to tell me exactly what the hell is going on?”

The room was eerily quiet as the staff re-examined notes and fidgeted in their seats.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our board of directors will not stand for this. They threw a fit when that TMZ report came out. This, however, may very well shut us down – permanently. So flights of fancy regarding vampires, voodoo, ghosts and witchcraft, among other things … no! Someone has somehow gained access into our building and patient rooms – possible our patient files and caused a disturbance and we need to find out who, how and we need to shut it down. Now!”

“Were you able to get anything from Ms. Valencia, Claire?”

“I’m afraid not, Bami. After three minutes of discussing the incident, she closed off. The only good thing out of it is knowing she isn’t suffering from Hypovolemic shock.”

“So whatever Marcus saw was not blood loss. Menstrual?”

“No. Because of her admission status, she’s monitored, it’s not her time.”

“It is possible that his past substance abuse may have caused him to hallucinate…” Nurse Valerie started.

“That I am aware of he has been clean for almost eight months.” Dr. Monisht interrupted.

“Mebbe someone slipped him a Mickey.” Clyde offered.

“So you’re suggesting that a member of my staff is providing him substances that are offsetting his current treatment?” Dr. Thomas asked.

Clyde looked down. “Dr. Thomas, in all da years I am working here ain’t no one never had access to none of them drugs what don’t go through my staff. They are checked an’ double checked and don’t get no key until we is a hunnud per cent sure they are good. We have three people, me and Valerie evvy day and you once a month go over that drug inventory. Ain’t nothing added, ain’t nothing missin’. If he got something, it was from somewhere else.”

Sebastian smiled. “Thank you, Clyde. So somehow one or both of the other wings need to be monitored and anyone from the outside as well.” He took a deep breath. “Then starting immediately, provided the Board agrees, anyone moving between areas needs to be checked for unauthorized substances…”

Other Stories: Sanity

As promised, here is what I meant to post last week – severely tweaked but hopefully still enjoyable.

The picture for this week’s episode is from http://www.nationofchange.org from their article Fear of Terrorism is Making Us Crazy


Sometimes it’s good to be of celebrity status. Sometimes having a little bit of money lets you get away with doing things normal people can’t get away with. And then money can sometimes help you try to come to terms with certain things.

Marcus’ mind wandered amongst lots of things as he strolled the halls which he was allowed. His goal tonight was to figure out how best to not do the things that got him in here in the first place. True enough he was mostly self-committed, but that didn’t mean he had been in any less trouble.

It was either here or jail and he didn’t feel like going to jail. What he felt like right now was seeing Val. Yeah, he wasn’t supposed to.

He stood at the intersection of the halls that lead back to where he was allowed to walk and the hallway that led to her room on the other side of the building. Once again he turned right and walked away. Once again he cussed himself out.

Three weeks. He hadn’t seen her for three weeks. He had, however, met Jan. That had actually been an accident; being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.

He thought back on that day that he and Clyde were doing their regular rounds in his area of the complex when Vince ran up to them and pulled Clyde aside. Marcus couldn’t hear the conversation but he saw Clyde’s eyes widen for a split second before he looked at the athlete.

“Sorry, Marksman, we gots ta cut dis here short.” Was the only thing Clyde said as he ushered Marcus back to his room. Being in a hurry, he didn’t notice that he didn’t exactly close the door, so as soon as he was twenty paces away, Marcus exited his room and followed them…

…all the way up to the second floor stairs. The well maintained door wasn’t slow closing, but the men were making so much noise running upstairs that they didn’t hear Marcus running to and entering the stairwell behind them. He followed them at a respectable distance and then stayed at the door, holding it open enough to make sure he could hear or see what was going on.

There was a bit of a commotion coming from the second floor: loud voices almost screaming. He could hear Clyde and Vince, and the voices of others he didn’t recognize. Lastly, he heard a woman yelling, cursing, crying and screaming.

Marcus opened the door wider and peeked out to see what was going on. He saw a figure on the ground being restrained to the best of the orderlies’ abilities – even Clyde and Vince. Two other people, possibly nurses, were standing with syringes ready to sedate the person once the orderlies were able to keep her as still as safety permitted – they didn’t want to break needles or stick the wrong person.

Everything seemed to be getting better – or rather the restrained person was starting to wear down. And then the person looked up and saw him looking at the commotion. That started everything again.

Everything after that happened so fast, looking back Marcus found it hard to remember exactly how they pulled her hands off his throat. But he would always remember the gouges she left him across his face when her nails slammed against his cheek.

That was the day he was told you didn’t stare at or talk to Jan and you absolutely didn’t mention Val.

He grumbled. Everything he thought about was focusing on her. Frustrating. He was getting better at everything but that. He was purging himself – getting and staying clean and sober. He hadn’t wanted to drink or snort or shoot up or anything. He was only getting mad at himself; and since he wasn’t prone to violence off the field he was getting good marks on that too.

Oh damn it all to fucking hell that next thought better not creep up on him.

He started walking faster, his arms swinging forward and back as he moved. Think, think, think! Anything just not …

His mom and sister had been by to see him. Better. He managed to convince his sister not to postpone her wedding. He could get out in time if he towed the line and he was trying his hardest to. No fights, no rule breaking, no nothing bad.

No Val.

Damn it!

He clenched his fists and started punching the air in front of him. Wide swings, small jabs, upper cuts. Maybe he could beat himself up. But he was already doing that.

“Shit.”

He turned right again. He lost track of how many times he had come upon the intersection and how many times he forced himself to turn right.

Maybe it would be better if he had company with him. Clyde’s constant rambling helped him not to think. Maybe he could go looking for one of the orderlies – it was Clyde’s day off but maybe he could talk one of the others to sub. Only thing is it would be on the other side of the building, which is where he was trying to avoid.

“You act like you’re in fucking love you damned bastard.”

“No…”

No, it’s just infatuation. He didn’t know her, hadn’t interacted with her. She was something he couldn’t have so he wanted it. What did Doc tell him? Think of something else he wanted that wasn’t easily reachable, that was a challenge and let that replace her. That’s what he had to do. He could do it too. Right?

“Yes!”

He stopped. That’s the second time he heard that voice and it wasn’t his.

When he looked around he saw he was where he wasn’t supposed to be. Shit! Time to go back.

He turned around and stopped.

There was another noise. Soft and breathy.

He smirked. He knew the sound of sex. No one was allowed that kind of relationship here, but someone was having fun.

Curiosity got the better of him so he turned around again and started following the noise. If the halls didn’t have such great acoustics he would have missed it, as quiet as it was.

He moved as quietly as he thought a mouse would, listening to the noise and getting overly aroused. Whoever it was wouldn’t mind him standing outside the door and having a little fun himself.

Except, it was her door.

His brown eyes instantly turned green and he wasn’t hot anymore.

What the fuck? He wasn’t allowed to touch her, to interact with her and someone was fucking her? Oh hell no! Marcus quietly went to the little window and as quietly as he could slid it open. What he saw made his blood freeze.

It wasn’t the fact that Val was lying on the bed. It wasn’t that her hands were grasping her sheets tightly in her fists as she moved and moaned. It wasn’t even the fact that she was about to cum that freaked him out.

Any other time watching two women get it on would have had him climaxing himself big time. He knew that the person between her legs was a woman – maybe that’s why she didn’t like his advances. The woman she was with was slender – at least from this angle she looked slender; feminine hands would occasionally brush her long darkish hair to the side as she worked her mouth.

No, what freaked him out, in the pale moonlight shining through the bigger window on the wall was the sight of a dark puddle near Val’s butt. What freaked him out was who was between her legs. No, not who, what.

Wait, no! That can’t be right.

Wrong or right, whatever it was lifted its head and licked lips that were as dark as the spot on the bed. Then it turned its head and looked over at him. Literally. It looked at him: later he would swear he saw … no, that couldn’t be right either. Could it?

It had … red glowing eyes?

Fuck!

He stepped back, slipped and fell down onto his butt when the … whatever it was … was suddenly at the door. He could hear it snarl just under the soft sound that would have sent his head … and probably his heart … reeling.

He got up as quick as he could and ran and kept running until he got to his room. The panic that wrapped itself around him made it hard to enter the room having forgotten Clyde’s instructions on how to work the lock. As soon as he entered he turned on all the lights, pulled the blankets off the bed and tossed them in one of the corners, then haphazardly pushed the bed up against the front door. Quickly and hurriedly making sure that the closet and bathroom doors were open and dark corners were bathed in light, he sat on the sheets and blankets while he stared wide-eyed at the main door.

He didn’t turn to look at anything else. Even when he thought he heard scratching at the window.

What the fuck?

He stayed where he was and when the morning nurse came in to wake him, once she and one of the orderlies was able to enter the room found him like that: still wide eyed-still looking at the door and rocking back and forth in shock.

Short Stories: Savior

I will be honest with you – I actually didn’t originally have this part of the story written out. It wasn’t even a thought or idea until this week. I actually panicked thinking I needed something that I didn’t have.

And then it came to me. I’ve tweaked it quite a bit from its original form.

The photo I’m using for this is called Chapel of Magi – Florence and is listed as Self-portrait of Benozzo Gozzoli. It can be found at http://www.museumsinflorence.com

There is a part two to the speech.

Enjoy.

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“I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” A soft and low voice stated from behind the two Arch Angels. Metatron blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized that there were more here. Michael and Raphael moved one step to the left and right (respectively) to allow Cassiel to be seen. He smiled, bowed and then walked past Michael, Raphael, Konnor and Karen and made a bee-line for Metatron.

“What secret could you possibly hold that I don’t know?” The Beloved asked.

Cassiel continued as though uninterrupted. “When God came here, here being our little part of existence, she was trying to fulfil something. And I’m using ‘she’ as a pronoun for God because the ‘he’ pronoun has been used way too many times – as has been said before, God is neither male nor female, God just is. God is a perfect balance. It’s something that Terrans will never understand and they have been trying to for millennia upon millennia.”

“I’ve heard the tale of The Beginning….”

Cassiel raised a hand to stop Metatron’s words. “We are by far neither the oldest nor youngest area of life; but whether we are allowed to find these other areas will depend on a number of things, most of which have not been divulged to me, to anyone here, or anyone currently existing that I’m aware of.”

Behind him Raphael motioned for Michael to stay put while he walked over to Konnor, keeping his eyes on the motionless Samael as he did.

“But I digress. God came here, needing to fulfil something. And God created everything that you see before you and behind you, above you and below you – up to a point. Because that’s all God needed at the time. It wasn’t instantaneous and it hasn’t ceased.” As he spoke, Cassiel motioned in the different directions with his arms, all the while keeping his eyes on The Beloved, who quietly followed his motions.

“God then realized that she needed help. She created Lucifer and then you. And she loved you both because you were her creations and she thought – she despaired that she wouldn’t be able to create anything that would bring company to her – only areas. And there was still balance, within God and within the areas that she made. But she wasn’t finished – she just didn’t know what else she needed to do, not just yet.”

“I remember that day, I remember when I first opened my eyes and saw God …” The look on the Beloved’s face was awesome to behold.

“But Lucifer thought she was finished when she made him and couldn’t fathom why she had to create you. You see, although God is perfect, when you give a part of yourself to create something entirely different, it’s only a part of yourself, it’s never a whole. So God’s creations were not entirely perfect, but they were wonderful in God’s eyes and she thought them to be perfect.

“So she gave both of you gifts to show you how much she loved you and how perfect she thought you were. To Lucifer she gave great beauty, to you, Metatron, she gave great love. But her gifts weren’t perfect – no I take that back. Her gifts were perfect, but when her creations – being you and Lucifer – accepted, took them and made them your own, they lost their perfection because God’s creations could only make them as perfect as they were, and they were not perfect. Are you with me so far?” He smiled softly at Metatron, then turned his attention around to the others in the area, even Samael who was still astride his steed and still a ways off from the others.

“She created Lucifer first. I thought …”

Cassiel shook his head. “God was perfectly content, at that time. But she saw that her creations weren’t; she had come to the next step of her fulfilment – her creations needed that as well. So she gave them the ability to create as well. Lucifer did nothing for a while – contemplating perhaps? You’d have to ask Lucifer. But you, Metatron, when God gave you the ability to create – well, you couldn’t be stopped. Together, you and God created us: the Arch Angels and High Angels.” Again, he motioned around, to himself, Raphael and to Michael. “So yes, in a sense Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and I are children of you and God – if you want to go by Terran definitions. Angels, we don’t have that definition, we just are.”

“And we thought you to be perfect. I … I remember that feeling, I remember that moment. It was … perfect.”

“Thank you, but no, we weren’t, not really, even though you are – or rather God is. We had and have only a part of God and part of you, so absolute perfection has eluded us. But we were and still are content. God loves all her creations and she hoped that you would come to know that love too as she had gifted you with that. Were you?”

“For a while I think I was. We went on creating.”

“Yes, because it brought you both such joy. And after a time even Lucifer created … to a point. Up until just before he fell he had a hand in creation. Not all of his creations were bad or evil.”

“No, he was beauty. He still is.” Metatron turned and looked over his shoulder past Samael – in the direction he thought Lucifer had gone to. “Some of his creations still bring wonder.”

The Archangel nodded. “Lucifer was banished from … ‘Heaven’ for lack of a more understandable term. But he took with him something that was so precious that it affected God to this day. He took with him part of your love – and with that love was trust in how God felt about her creations. And unfortunately, it’s that portion of your love that attracts all love – what the Terrans now call temptation. Because their own love, their part of love, the miniscule portion that they have handed down to them after millennia, that is still attracted to the original source, and part of that source resides with Lucifer, though a greater portion of it still lives strong within you, Metatron.”

The Beloved turned back to Cassiel, such sadness in his eyes. He opened his mouth as though to respond, but no words issued forth, not even the song that nearly all of God’s creations sing.

“It’s this part that Lucifer uses from time to time to lure you from God’s side in the hopes of being able to lure more to him so that when he feels the time is right, he will be able to take over – to banish God the way she banished him for what he did to her.”

“What did he do to her?”

Cassiel shook his head and lowered his eyes. “I never saw and I’ve never been told. I don’t think anyone has. There’s only here say. But God stopped talking aloud after that moment. God’s voice is creation and destruction, but after the first time you left her side, her ability to create diminished slightly.”

“I … no …”

“Please don’t misunderstand that – she still has that power above all else – and the Angels and all beings created by her and with them have that power – but she doesn’t speak because now her voice has more destruction than creation. Until that balance is restored. And there are those whose job it is to try to restore that – among other things.” Cassiel now motioned towards Karen and Konnor.

When Metatron looked over at them, he saw tears flowing down from beneath the sunglasses still on Konnor’s face. They dripped down, some of them succeeding on landing softly on her body.

“Hidden within them, while they go about doing their jobs, forgotten within them is that ability to find what was taken and return it to God.”

“How … why do you say this? How do you know this?” He kept his eyes on the twins but his heart ached now, the first time in a long time it had.

“We were all given gifts from God, although not as great as the gifts you received. The gift of observing and remembering is mine. The gift of healing is Raphael’s. It’s how he and I helped Gabriel create the Forgotten.”

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Previous Chapter           ©2015 Dazrahe / Deborah McCarthy                     Next Chapter

Other Stories: Sanity

First and foremost, I want to apologize to all of you for posting this late. I’ll explain what happened – and it had nothing to do with school, my car or my life.

Well, not entirely.

I actually meant to post something completely different for this portion of my story-line but as I was reading it and re-reading it and letting it flow from my mind to my computer and ultimately to this blog site, it became clear to me that someone other than me would see how wrong the post would have been.

In no way do I want anyone to think that I’m making this into some far-fetched horror or sci-fi story. That isn’t what this is about. I have plenty of other stories on the side and posts here for that.

I wanted this to be as realistic as possible, which is ironic considering my current topic and state of mind as I write this. So I want to assure you that although my next post (which was supposed to be this one) may sound completely … well I’ve lost the word for it but I hope you get the gist of this. There are no ghosts, no vampires, no werewolves, no demons, no anything supernatural or paranormal aside from whatever the characters themselves manifest because of their conditions.

I will also apologize for the brevity of this post. I was hoping to have more than I do (I try to type up three Word pages per post) but this was all that would come out. Maybe it will tie in or maybe I will have to use another post to do that.

Today’s picture is from the Saint Louis Health, Detox, And Family Therapy Offices located at http://www.centreccare.com/about/OurFacility.aspx. I’m trying to refrain from posting pictures that contain people unless they are caricatures, clip art or drawing of fictitious persons.

I hope you enjoy.


The early Wednesday morning sun peeked sleepily over the horizon and found the scheduled ingress of nurses, orderlies, and doctors, each holding cups of coffee or other hot, caffeinated drink, some talking, but all trying to get ready for the weekly staff meeting.

Dr. Sebastian Thomas, head of Psychiatry at the facility, was already there, as was Maureen, his secretary. Dr. Thomas was seated at the ‘head’ of the conference table going over notes for last minute information he was going to give to his staff. Maureen was making sure everyone had the proper notes for today’s meeting along with making sure there were plenty of refreshments for everyone (including herself) and that all equipment was functioning properly.

Although there were no assigned seats and the conference table was round, each person sat in their usual spots and waited patiently for Dr. Thomas to begin the meeting.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ve had a good week so far. You’ll forgive our detour from our regular format, but I believe there are a few items of importance that we will need to address first – one in particular that has our Board of Directors very concerned.”

There was a soft murmuring through the staff as they each started reading over the agenda.

“It appears that our resident celebrity has garnered our facility a bit of … notoriety that has our legal team tearing out their hair. Would anyone like to comment?” He turned his attention first to Dr. Monisht then panned his eyes over the nurses and orderlies that were assigned to Marcus’ wing of the complex.

When no one spoke, he continued. “Somehow, this past week someone at our facility took it upon themselves to contact TMZ and talk to them about extremely confidential information. Now, I will admit that when our Board and legal team called me in to let me know about this, I had little to no idea what TMZ is, aside from overhearing bits and pieces of conversation from all of you and the other staff in the other sections. But, it has been all over the Internet that Marcus Williams is currently a patient and he was involved in an altercation with another patient here. Thankfully, the identity of that other patient was not divulged. Our legal department is currently in contact with this … media corporation to cease all disclosure of information regarding Mr. Williams and our facility as long as Mr. Williams is a patient here.”

“And you believe that someone in this room is responsible for their access to this information?” Dr. Monisht’s heavily accented voice asked.

“I believe someone in this facility is responsible, Bami. Rest assured the other departments will be going through this question and answer session at our regularly scheduled meetings. However, if we don’t find out who did this and why, our legal team will be doing one on one sessions with us in order to appease the Board.”

“I guess we should be thankful that Val wasn’t mentioned in this article. I don’t know how much exposure she has to TMZ or any other outside source, but this could add to her current regression.” Dr. Summers stated as she continued reading over the article.

“Unfortunately, Claire, I’m not thankful for anything. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Ms. Valencia as of late, exactly how much regression are we talking about?”

Dr. Summers opened up her own notebook and scanned over her observations. “We had been making a bit of progress, talking about her addiction to video games as a means of escapism. I thought it was a break-through and was going to start talking to her about her daughter at the next session.”

“I take it that didn’t happen?”

“No. She created this Krystal person as a means of hiding from the reality of her situation. Although it isn’t uncommon for those suffering from this type of addiction to use this type of defense, I’m at a loss because this name isn’t associated with any of the games we were told she had played. Also this name nor any variation of it is used in the game she was playing when her daughter died.”

“So she hadn’t been using this form of escapism long?”

“No. It only manifested … about a month ago.”

“That is around the time Mr. Williams arrived here.” Dr. Thomas stated. “Could it be that Enriquetta…?”

“Val.”

“I’m sorry, yes. Val. Maybe she created this to shield herself from Mr. Williams?” He turned to Dr. Monisht.

“I do not believe that could have occurred.”

“I agree.” Dr. Summers added. “Although our records show that Mr. Williams had been admitted around that same time, they had little to no knowledge of each other. No interaction.”

“Marcus’ schedule at that time would have prohibited even concurring lunch schedules. His first week with us included meetings with his attorney and probation officer.” Dr. Monisht concluded.

“We’ll return to possible treatments we can utilize for Ms. Valencia in a moment, Claire. We’ve gotten off-track of what this meeting is for today.”