Friday, November 21 - Ekphrasis

Man on the Moon
from a ship through the stars
Searching for the answers
to who we really are
Ground of black
painted on a sky of gold
Man stood face to face
with the Creator of old
Disconnecting his oxygen
vapours of steam from the ports
and mix with the atmosphere
Sending red alarms to the bioreport
Man found the one, finally found his home
In a galaxy with beings far beyond our own

Thursday, November 20 - Inside Out

Here I am. Sitting in Creative Writing class, trying to work on my Dreadful Dictionary for the end project of this unit. Only problem is, I have lost all my words.

"You could just make up some new ones," a voice inside my head says.

"I could I suppose..."

"Or you could just not do it at all, think of all the work you put into it and now it's all gone. Its not worth it." Another voice says.

"This is a valid point..."

"What are you thinking?! That't not at all a valid point!"

"This is also true..."

"C'mon, forget working on the project and just play some games!"

"NO, he can't do that, this project needs to be done so he can get a good grade!"

The voices argue back and fourth until a third one chimes in...

"Woah, what is all this noise about?"

"HE thinks Brody should just play games instead of doing his work!"

"He's already lost all his work, c'mon it's ridiculous to have to do it all over again, HE thinks Brody should do it all over again! That's ridiculous!"

"Wait. Have you written that screenplay yet?"

I reply to the third voice.

"Yes..."

"Set your ND filters?"

"Uh huh..."

"Buy your film stock?"

"Yeah..."

"...Is it casted yet?"

"Well no..."

"Okay, make sure you finish up preproduction stuff, then I don't care what you do."

The first voice returns.

"Which will be your work!"

"...Fine."

"Good. Now hurry up and post this blog entry so you can get started."

I finish typing and press "Publish". 

Tuesday, November 18th - Treason

Surprise!!

Giuseppe Marco Fieschi came home to see his friends had thrown him a "congratulations on getting out of prison" surprise party. They all had cake and a grand time, but Giuseppe couldn't get this one thing off his mind.

How could King Louis imprison me like that? After we went to high school together! I broke him out of detention with only a paper clip and a MacGyver rerun! And he just locks me away! Stealing the councilman's checkbook and forging checks into my own account isn't something worth ruining a friendship over!! Banking fraud is not that big a deal!! Ill show him...

A group of Giuseppe's friends walk over and offer him the chance of a lifetime. They plan on assassinating the King, and they want him to do it.

Of course I'll do it! He needs to pay.

Now Giuseppe, this needs to be clean and you need a discreet way of killing him, you need a creative and clever plan to be able to pull this off...

Oh don't worry about that, I'll be super discrete and creative, no one will ever see it coming.

* * *

Giuseppe awaits the king to pass by with his family on his yearly review of the Guard. He looks down at his weapon of choice for assassinating the king. An enormous custom built 25-barrel shotgun.

Nailed it.  He thought.  Total sneaky and stealthy, like a shadow in the night...

The king passed by, this is Giuseppe's chance. He pulls the trigger and unleashes a hellfire of bullets upon the king and surrounding peoples. The massive kick of the 25 shotguns duct tape and krazy-glued together sent Giuseppe flying into the wall, dazed. The enormously impractical and supervillainous contraption killed 18 people, injured 22 more. None of them the royal family. The king was grazed in the forehead by a bullet but not injured. Giuseppe woke up from his daze to see a crowd of people surrounding him looking pretty disgruntled with him. So they put him in a guillotine and hes dead now.

That's what you get Giuseppe.

Moral to the story: If you are going to assassinate someone, don't do it with a ridiculous 25 barreled shotgun.

Friday, November 14th

Franz Gurgenspielheim woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his kitchen for some ordinary coffee. He looks at the calendar; November 9, 1989. He walks outside to do his ordinary routine everyday. He walks to the park and sits on the same bench with the same notebook and the same fountain pen. He looks over to the tree he has been admiring for the longest time, and the same little squirrel on one of the branches, and continues his drawing. For a moment he thought of how strange it was that it seemed the squirrel never moved and how the tree never changed with the seasons, but though the idea silly and wrote it off as just him not noticing. He was so focused on his pen strokes, he didn't notice the wrecking ball that smashed through the wall that the tree and squirrel was painted on. When he looked up to take another look at the tree, he saw a man with an equally dumbfounded facial expression as his looking back at him. He saw the man was sitting on a bench, with a notebook and a fountain pen. Looking down at the concrete wall Franz noticed on the other man's side was the same tree with the same squirrel. The two men like reflections of one another stood up and walked toward the newly discovered person. They each looked at the other's notebook, and saw the drawings of the same tree on both of them. Franz looked back at the man and walked back to his bench which he pulled over to the hole in the wall, and the man did the same to his bench. They sat next to each other and shared drawings and stories. The other man was Jorgen Franzheimstien, and every day he woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his completely ordinary kitchen for some ordinary coffee. Then he would take the same notebook and the same fountain pen to the same bench to draw the same tree with the same squirrel in the branches. He was too focused on his drawing to notice the wrecking crew smash through the tree, which he now realized was a wall, where he saw a man on a bench just like him, doing the same thing, named Franz Gurgenspielheim. As the two men shared their drawings and stories, they realized that November 9th of 1989 was not just an ordinary day.

Thursday, November 13 - Macabre Art

Emaciated souls in the dying void
The spirits of the damned draw closer
One by one they see the light
And breathe in its breathe of life
So they may continue living singing sullen anthems
Personified misery in the form of a thousand phantoms

Wednesday, November 12 - The Haunted House

This whole town is deserted

Thought detective Blair. He looked down to his left side and winced as he pressed against his blood soaked dress shirt.

Broken ribs, great.

After his train derailed a mile and a half away, an in-shock and barely alive Blair saw a light in the distance, a place he thought he could get help. Upon reaching the town he found the source of the only light. A gas station and convenience store, looking dirty but fully operational. Except there was no one, anywhere. He took some chips and a doughnut and threw some cash on the counter. As he ate to refill his strength, he noticed the door to the back office was ajar and the light inside was flickering. He stood and cautiously moved toward the opening in the office and rested his hand on his holstered pistol. He pushed open the door and walked inside. The office was bigger than expected, and had a disheveled desk in the back corner. The corkboard above the desk had newspaper clippings, headlines about disappearing children, paranormal activity in the local area, and several about mysterious cultish rituals and other crimes. Blair went through the notes on the desk, they documented connections between the news clippings. This guy was looking for something. In the bottom of one of the drawers he noticed a little discrepancy between two segments of the bottom of the drawer. He blew away some of the dust and pushed on one part, and it sprang up, a secret compartment. Inside was a wooden box, and Blair picked it up to examine it. he flipped the latch and opened the box revealing a set of glasses. He removed the glasses and looked at them more closely. There were intricate mechanics in them, and there were three sets of lenses on it, all situated on arms with gears so they could be positioned to bee seen through by the wearer. He puts the glasses on and twists one of the dials, setting one set of lenses in place. Immediately the world took on a bluish hue. Blair walked to the front of the gas station and looked out to the house on the hill. And the grotesque creature running from it toward him. He grabbed his gun and fired at it but it didn't seem to do anything. The creature was on all fours now, contorting its frame unnaturally. Blair ran back into the office and closed the door. The creature rams the door and it comes ajar. Blair can see its disgusting yellow eyes and its unnaturally wide mouth with an unnatural amount of sharp jagged teeth. Blair glances at the creature through the top of the glasses, and its gone. He looks at it through the glasses again, and its trying to bust down the door. Blair tries to take off the glasses, but some force will not allow him to. In a frantic attempt he turns another dial and sets in a new set of lenses. The creature is still there and is crawling through the opening it has bashed through the door. Blair looks for a last stitch effort to escape, and notices the wall at the back where there once was nothing now has a door. He runs through it with no time to spare. He collapses in the floor of the next room, and everything blacks out. He comes back into consciousness and he is lying in a bed. He is relieved that everything he just experienced is forever stuck in the dreamscape and that he is now finally back in reality. That is until he realizes that this is not his room. This is not his bed. Looking out the window he can see the gas station below, from the window of the house he saw earlier. He goes to rub his eyes not believing any of this could be real, but his hands are blocked by the strangest pair of glasses...

Friday, November 7 - Macabre Poetry

A dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight
To somber sullen tones in the graveyard of temptation
Where forbidden fruit grow with barbed wire vines
Salsa with Satan in Luna's faint glow
Will be the last dance of your eternal soul